psychoshenanigans | Goodnight // AU

Entry tags:

coil,
zhas

Goodnight // AU

Zhas loves Halloween. And Zhas doesn't really love anything, so that's saying something.

The lights, the sounds, every painted face and every bizarre mask... The way everyone runs around, drinking and laughing at fairies and zombies alike. It's kind of ironic that the biggest holiday for vampires is also the one day a year that he refuses to do any work, often completely shedding his persona in favor of pretending to be something like a normal person.

He's gone halfway, now that he's convinced Coil to come. He's still mostly himself, but he's talking more. He interacts with people who approach him, he smiles strangers claps him on the shoulder for how kickass his face paint is. And he has to talk for Coil, of course, getting him things or explaining to strangers that try to ask the kid what he's supposed to be. It's usually a "joke" about him being a one-eyed, silent necromancer dressed up as a respectable gentleman, followed by waving him off as some obscure movie character if they don't have the right sense of humor for that sort of thing.

But while he has his fun, drinks up the sights, wanders plainly in the streets like he belongs there... He pays a lot of attention to Coil, too. Makes sure he's well-informed, makes sure not to take him anywhere he hasn't already been, tries to treat him to things he might like... Lets him explore anything he seems to have an interest in, hopes he doesn't come off like some pandering babysitter about the whole thing.

But really, after three or four drinks, Zhas's ability to worry about it completely vanishes. It isn't until after midnight that he finally settles them down somewhere, dragging Coil over to the little park in the middle of town and letting them collapse onto a bench for a little while. It's not a whole lot quieter--the place is filled with brave children playing hide and seek, teenagers negotiating candy trades, adults drunkenly trying to remember where they parked their cars--but it's sitting, and it's nice to have less immediate stimulation for a minute.

That, and to finish his drink. Zhas doesn't actually remember how he got this one out of the bar. But he's still holding it, and it's delicious, so he should finish it.

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He hadn't thought he would be, but he's glad to be sitting again. Most of it is appreciating the fact that he's somewhere darker and quieter, where he doesn't have to worry about what could be coming at him where he can't see. He has jumped too many times already tonight, spooking when masked things appear up from his blind side. They're all lucky that no one ended up with a bloodied nose or crushed windpipe. ...The rest of it is just because he's having trouble mentally tracking the exact path that led them to where they're sitting in this park, and he doesn't like that.

But Zhas is settled and seems content, so it must be okay. He glances over to check and make sure.

He's done that a lot tonight, too. Peeking over to inspect Zhas' features, usually when the other's attention is off somewhere else, like he does. He's been checking more often then usual. There's plenty he doesn't understand about this night, and Zhas' peculiar behavior is a big part of it. He doesn't get it, and he's not sure that he likes it. With the way that Zhas has been seeming so... involved with their surroundings, there's been this irrational fear that has picked at him. He found himself able to picture Zhas somehow losing himself in it. As silly of a thought as it is, he could imagine Zhas abruptly getting pulled away somewhere, forgetting how separate he is, and not coming back.

But he's caught the glances in his own direction. Anytime that the worry began to get too big, Zhas would come back. Reel back and check in. It's enough to reassure him that, as different as things feel, nothing is really about to change. It's all temporary. It's just one night to be a little bit different.

And that he can almost understand. He's been able to follow along with that. He'll try a drink; he'll pretend to understand the appeal of plastic skeletons and rubber bats.

At first it was all fascinating in the way that observing the bizarre mating displays of wildlife is fascinating. It wasn't until later, a few drinks in and able to wander out through the crowds without riding a skittish high of hypersensitivity, that he found it truly engaging. That's when he finally felt like he could understand enough of it to pretend to be a part of things. Moving along as a part of the mob of ghouls instead of just observing it.

It's a vastly unfamiliar feeling. And he finds himself in a weird place once they've detached from the others again. Either way, he's glad to be sitting. It makes it all easier to think about at a distance.

...An oddly blurry distance.

He's deep in thought, but he's squinting. It's not really clear what exactly he's squinting at out there in the thinning crowd, but the fact that he's having trouble focusing on it is probably more important anyway.

Oh, he's very happy. Funny enough, as much as he embraces losing himself for a little while in the crowd, playing pretend, he somehow always feels better when it's time to return to himself. He doesn't know what it is. Maybe something about being appreciated, or... Feeling like... He remembers that the normal world is a bunch of lies that people tell themselves, a big show, and he's very lucky to be able to see through the the truth of the matter. That sounds better.

Coil's being quiet. But it's a thinking quiet, so he lets him keep at it for a little while while he looks up at the empty black sky and quietly delights in how detached and clean it makes him feel. Maybe that's it. A system of re-learning appreciation. ...Hrmm.

No, Coil's being too quiet. And kind of squinty, now that he looks at him. He was sure to sit down on his good side, open himself up to conversation--so Coil shouldn't be surprised when Zhas reaches over to nudge his shoulder with his knuckles.

Hey, buddy. What're you thinking about over there?

He blinks out of it, whatever it is. After sending Zhas a glance, he rubs his eye like it will actually help him sharpen up.

He's probably just tired. That's all.

Just won't mention the fact that it's hard to grab onto the tails of whatever he was just dwelling on. So, he makes it up.

Pointing across the way, he gestures at whoever it is that he'd seemed to be looking at. He was obviously just watching those people, being interested in whatever they were doing. Don't worry about it.

Though, he squints again after that, because he should probably actually look at them and see what they're up to, if he's going to blame his distraction on them.

Zhas leans over to see what Coil must be looking at--and I mean that he really leans, the gesture overexaggerated until he very nearly bumps into Coil in the process. He thinks Coil's focused on the group of kids running around, now more hiding from their parents than each other. And that seems fine, and checks out, and is a perfectly legitimate thing to be looking at.

So he scoots back away, digging around in his hilariously normal pockets for his cigarettes. He fidgets for a lighter, too, but not before he's reached over and placed his drink suggestively close to where Coil is sitting. You know, just. If he wants it.

He'll smoke over here for a minute. He's pretty sure the wind will take it in the other direction.

The fact that Coil doesn't automatically lean away when Zhas tips in his direction is probably pretty telling. He doesn't even notice that he's gotten close until a moment or two after it's happening. Then he's left looking at him as returns to his original place, and then finds his attention mindlessly wandering down to the glass a few moments after that.

He picks it up almost automatically, turning it in his hands like he's inspecting an oddity. He doesn't drink it though. He might have been considering it, somewhere in there, where he's still trying to recall what he'd been thinking about, be he doesn't. He just holds it, as if that's his job.

Oh, good. He'd hoped. Why hoped isn't particularly important, and he couldn't figure that out if he tried... But he gestures anyway, after the fact, asking Coil to hold that for him. He didn't want to knock it over somewhere around lighting his cigarette and putting things back in his pockets.

And he might try to drink it while he's got a cigarette in his mouth, and that's disastrous . So maybe it's for his own good.

Normally, when assigned a task, even an insignificant one, he follows it to the letter and does nothing else. Normally, he'd just sit patiently with the drink and wait however long it takes for Zhas to take it back. ...Normally, he wouldn't be feeling lightheaded and only halfway himself, however.

Here he is, a part of the rest of the world--if still a very odd part--and maybe a little bit tipsy, if he's really quite honest with himself.

It's strange to be standing outside of his habitual range.

So, he would normally just sit with the drink and do nothing with it. But with his thoughts wandering so far, and feeling a little fidgety with Zhas smoking and him doing nothing... he dares to sneak a drink. For him it's an impulsive move.

And it's easier than before. He's more numbed to it now--the taste of it and how it burns. And with a glass already half empty, it's easier to tip his head back and take a sip without choking.

...He still does choke on it, but not as badly. It's an improvement. He sputters a little, covers his mouth with an embarrassed hand, and then goes back to just sitting there. Holding the drink like he was told.

He doesn't mind. He actually smiles to himself a little, under all that skull makeup, since he might have hoped he'd do that from the beginning. He remembers what starting to drink was like. Must be even harder without a tongue.

Mm, but he supposes he should ask... He stops surrounding himself in a cloud of smoke, waving some of it away long enough to ask Coil how he's feeling.

He switches the glass from one hand to the other so he can answer... and that is a markedly delayed task--watching carefully, making sure the glass is good and balanced in his other palm before he takes his hand away.

And really, he didn't necessarily need to switch hands. The sign for 'fine' is very simple.

It's a non-answer, but he doesn't particularly want to go into more detail if he doesn't have to. He doesn't want to mention how lightheaded he's feeling, and he really doesn't want to admit that he's already regretting sneaking that drink.

Oh, but there is something else, and it's something he wouldn't normally bother mentioning. But it's not like they're on the job, in some tense situation where he actually has a reason to keep things to himself. And it's really on his mind right now for some reason. Watching kids divvy up candy certainly isn't helping.

After a pause, he signs 'hungry.'

Coil doesn't usually admit to having wants, so that keeps his attention. He makes one of those occasional, non-descriptive sounds, one of his little "hm"s of his, before trying to think of how they could fix that.

Which really doesn't get very far, because the first thing he thinks of is burgers, and burgers sound really good, and is there even a place like that around here? And how would they get there? Was there one in the market district? Which way is that? Does he want to get up and walk all the way there? He'll get lost. That would be stupid.

...And then he remembers that Coil probably couldn't eat a burger very easily anyway, so it seems like a horrible idea entirely. Which means he's out of ideas, so he blows out a big cloud of smoke and sinks down in the bench until his long legs are the only things keeping him from sliding right off.

He signs the equivalent of "what do you want" from his spot a foot lower.

First, he shrugs.

Then something must occur to him, or he has some other new thought bloom in his head, because he spontaneously goes to continue after a minute. He explains something.

But it's rambly and mostly made up of spelling, using only the hand that is not currently occupied with a drink, with no effort made to turn enough for Zhas to actually be able to see what he's saying.

After the shrug, it takes Zhas a minute to realize that Coil is even talking. It takes him embarrassingly longer to realize that he has absolutely no idea what about.

So he starts shaking his head, waves his hand a little to keep his attention, and then explains--with a sort of definitive clarity usually reserved for drunk people trying to pretend they're not drunk--that he can't understand any of that.

It's probably a good thing that he waves his hand like that, because Coil's having some trouble focusing. Has that aspect gotten worse in the last few minutes? He should probably find some water.

But, right, he can't understand him. So, Coil first looks at his own hands as he tries to figure out what he was doing wrong to make it hard to--

Oh. He still has Zhas's drink. He should probably give that back.

So, he offers that instead, handing it toward him and clumsily shaking the glass a little, as if there would still be ice left to jingle.

Zhas has to shrug himself back up into properly sitting before he can reach out for the glass. He plucks it out of Coil's hand, just narrowly avoiding sloshing it all over the place.

But he's already busy smirking at him and putting the glass down somewhere so that he can sign and tell Coil that he's drunk. In the most self-satisfied way possible.

The accusation apparently hits him as something of a shock. He straightens up too--the slouching had just been to match Zhas, really. Surprised and indignant, he shakes his head!

And then he signs it back at Zhas. Clumsy and insistent. He's the one who's drunk here, not Coil!

Zhas chuckles to himself, shaking his head. He points to Coil, gestures for a little, and then fumbles around for where he put his drink.

No, no. Coil's drunk. And he's not going to be convinced otherwise--draining the rest of his glass so that he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.

He's fine, he insists. Perfectly fine.

And he's stubborn about it. He even folds his arms--a gesture which is normally not done with as much defiance behind it.

Aaaaand then he's laughing again, which is still kind of scary.

The last of his cigarette gets flicked into the grass. He stands after it, pitching forward with the difficulty of suddenly being on two feet--a situation fixed with an unsteady wobble and the repositioning of limbs. And then he's up and holding his hand out towards Coil and gesturing for him to come on, get up, like he'd never been unbalanced at all.

Time to go again, kid.

Coil's not drunk... until he tries to stand up.

Of course he doesn't take Zhas' hand, because he doesn't need it. He's obviously fine. So, he pushes himself up under his own power... and then does nothing but teeter there for a minute.

It's like magic. As soon as he's trying to actually use his legs, it's as if half of his brain pours out into them, and he's left with very little to do anything else with.

Give him a second. He needs to collect all his limbs together and get used to this awful blurred-up feeling in his head.

Zhas says something, but in that way he does that isn't actually words so much as a sound in the shape of something helpful. That hand is suddenly bracing Coil up at the shoulder, and he's got one of Coil's hands in his other, free one--and he'll just make sure he doesn't go toppling over into the grass.

He tugs on his hand after a minute, though. Come on, this way. Permanently smirking, of course.

He doesn't even know quite why he tries to shrug that hand off of his shoulder, aside from the fact that it generally goes along with his continued insistence that he's fine... though he is sure now that he's really not actually feeling very fine.

Luckily, however, Zhas has a hold of his hand, so he's kept on his feet when he almost throws himself off balance toward the bench again.

...Okay fine. He'll let him hang on. For now.

There we go. We're avoiding falling over, here. Zhas isn't exactly the epitome of grace right now either, but at least he's used to it. He signs for 'water', at least, so Coil will know where their next goal is.

He also switches over to Coil's bad side, keeping a close arm around his shoulder or at his back. The celebration will be winding down, but habits are habits.

Water is good. He's really thirsty, and he hates being thirsty, so he'll go along with that plan.

He's frowning almost immediately though, as he stumbles his way through their first steps. He doesn't like that one bit, and he can't tell if it's his own legs betraying him or if it's Zhas throwing him off.

So, since he can't glance over easily at his face like this, he's looking down at their feet. They're walking all out of synch, and the arm on his shoulder is messing with his balance. All he can do is look really disgruntled and just... try to make his steps match Zhas'.

His steps are kind of small and everything, since Coil's so short.

Thinking about it, he gives Coil kind of an unhelpful shrug in the shoulder. If it wasn't obvious that he thought the whole thing was funny before, he tries to sign out with his free hand that he could carry Coil there if he wants.

Coil's not finding the humor in this yet, apparently. The shrug irks him, and the helpful offer definitely makes it worse.

He tries to shrug into Zhas in retaliation, but is still kind of roped by the arm that is attached to that shoulder... so he just ends up jostling them both a little dangerously.

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