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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whoooa, now he's getting uppity. The way Zhas raises his hands up in surrender like that, smirking again--well, it hasn't been the first time he'd given up. Probably wouldn't be the last. Drinking kind of puts him on this repeating cycle.

But he reaches forward to ruffle his bangs again anyway. The only part of his hair that can really be ruffled without causing much ruin to the rest of his look.

He swats for his hand automatically, and it's at least a far more well-aimed strike than a typical drunken flailing. He might be intoxicated, but he's still got deeply-ingrained muscle memory on his side.

Though, if he does actually smack his hand out of the way, he'll be surprised about it. It happens before he thinks about it.

But, whatever. He stands by it.

Zhas looks a little surprised too, but in a good way. He might not have been so polite about it if he was sober, but then... Coil probably wouldn't have smacked his hand away if he were sober, either. Or he would have at least thought about it a little longer.

Hah, well. He's not done bothering him anyway. He reaches down into something in his coat, motioning vaguely for Coil to hold still with his other hand. A second later he's got something from a container smeared on his finger, and he's trying to reach forward and swipe Coil's face with it. He's going for his nose, since it's the easiest target.

Being that he just smacked Zhas when he didn't strictly mean to, he's not expecting whatever Zhas has to be particularly good.

So, he goes leaning back when Zhas comes for him, trying to keep distance between them long enough to figure out what he's got. It doesn't work, though, and he quickly runs out of leaning room.

He's got a grip on the table to keep himself upright, but neither himself nor the chair he's in have enough balance to keep that up. So, once he wobbles dangerously back once, he stops. And Zhas swipes him.

Totally confused, he reaches up to feel... what he just did...

Zhas nearly falls off the table himself, but that's neither here nor there once he clutches the edge of the table and pushing himself back up to sitting.

It's just black, oily paint. Depending on how much Coil pays attention, he might recognize it as the stuff that Zhas puts on his face--though he'll point that out to Coil soon, gesturing and showing him the contents of the container.

He starts to offer to paint his face, but the gesture gets lost and confused and really wobbly. So he stops. Waits a second. Tries it again, much more clear. And more of a statement.

He signs 'why'--and it's a very pointedly-signed word--but he's already sitting up straighter, not leaning back so much. And even though he's still messing with the makeup, kind of smudging it around in a bleary sort of curious manner, he's also maybe looking for a way to scoot his chair closer without tipping it over.

Oh, good. He waits for Coil to try and figure himself out, drunkenly figuring out how to explain himself too. Why so interested in painting his face? ...Besides the part where he thinks it'd be funny.

But the gist of what he ends up signing is that this way, Coil can have a face too. Just for tonight. Maybe a costume?

And the last bit's said with an odd quirk of a smile, like he doesn't really believe it himself. Like he's making fun of the idea, perhaps. He follows it up with insisting that he'll do a good job and leaning forward to paint more on Coil's nose.

He flinches a little and vaguely frowns, but tries to sit still. ...And he'd probably do a decent job of it if he wasn't almost immediately trying to sign at the same time.

He still doesn't understand. And does that mean they're staying out longer? Also, does that mean that he thinks Coil needs a face?

That's a lot to take in, and he's trying to really focus on painting. A lot of things should be working against him, here: coil's fidgeting, using his fingers instead of a proper brush, and the fact that he's still pretty drunk. But you don't paint a skull on your face for a decade without getting pretty fucking good at it. While it won't be his personal best, it'll be better than most of the other teenage weirdos who decided to paint their faces tonight.

He switches to a different paint, a larger container. That's the white. That should come next, before he does the eyes and the mouth--but he's stuck trying to think really hard about one of the things that Coil tried to say. The only thing that stuck.

Oh. His answer.

Does Coil think he needs a face? That's the only part that's important. But tonight, this is just playing. It's sharing.

And it's something very important to him, but Zhas doesn't mention that part. He's too busy smearing white all over Coil's face.

Playing, sharing. He was going to further question it, but then there is paint being smoothed over his face, and that in itself is enough to get him to shut up. He automatically stills, lowers his hands, and is forced to just think for a minute.

And he thinks through a couple of different things. It's a slow, drunken path of thoughts, and he finds his eye wandering with them.

His gaze ends up settling on Zhas' face, of course. Looking at the painting he'd done earlier, and wondering what something like that would end up looking like on his own features. It's hard to imagine that Zhas would really...

But it's just playing. He said that already.

Theeeere we go. White on, then back to black. The little teeth are his favorite part, though he has to use his nail to get it right--he tries not to do anything intentionally painful. Just little scrapes across his lip, getting the lines close enough to look good.

The eye part's his second favorite, and he's really careful around Coil's eye, since eyes are rather sensitive and Coil's got half as many as most people. The eyepatch, though... He...

"...Hm."

It was fine until he got to the side where Coil doesn't actually have an eye. He decides to just kind of mark around it, get as close to it as he can... figures people will get the gist of it.

When he's done, he pulls out his little mirror so that Coil can look. Skull face, see?

His staring is finally interrupted when it comes time to really paint his mouth. Despite the alcohol, he's still a little touchy. The line of his mouth presses flat, which probably helps while Zhas draws in those little teeth.

The eye is almost worst, though. He needs to take a moment, take a little breath, before he shuts it.

And then it's done in no time, and there's a mirror for him to see.

It's a shock to see it. He straightens up in his seat, takes the little mirror so he can really get a good look. Turning his face one way and the other, tilting so he can see how Zhas drew the line of his skull-teeth and cheekbones.

He's caught up in looking at his reflection for a while, really absorbing up all those details hiding his face, before finally returning Zhas' mirror.

Too bad Coil isn't one for smiling. The shift in his features is probably the closest he ever gets, though.

He likes that look. It's pretty funny with bones on the outside. But he likes it all the same. He thinks he did pretty good, all things considering.

When lids are all screwed back on and the mirror's stashed back in his pocket, he slides off the top of the table and back onto the ground. He's got to lean on the thing for support, but he's up.

He signs again: they'll go get food, then go home. Okay?

He nods. He likes this plan.

Somehow, with his face painted, a huge part of wanting to not waste the night has been satisfied. He feels like some goal that he hadn't ever actually decided on has been met.

So, he unsteadily makes his way up to his feet, fails at nudging his chair back toward the table, and almost forgets his water bottle.

But he's got it now. He's all good.

That reminds him to take his own--but he just ends up shoving it in the pocket at the front of his jacket. It'll be forgotten in a few minutes, since he's not really interested. Food's a pretty all-consuming thought all of a sudden.

And since he thinks Coil's doing a little better, he'll just lead on--keeping a drunken eye on him, but definitely not dragging him along this time. He tries to look back and ask him what he wants to eat again, but it's really hard to pay attention to what he's signing and where he's going at the same time.

Zhas doesn't have an arm around him anymore, but he's managing just fine. He's actually able to keep his balance better this way and following is simply in his blood, so he totters diligently along at Zhas' heel.

He's not paying enough attention to be able to catch what he's saying, though.

He's too busy trying to figure out how to scratch his chin without screwing up his makeup--and mostly failing.

Yeah, he... won't be able to. Zhas never managed. Eventually you develop little tics, like scratching your head. Or murdering people at the slightest provocation. You get used to it.

But Coil not paying attention isn't helping, so he claps to get his attention. And then tries again. Hey, what do you want to eat?

He jumps, but not as much as he would have if he hadn't had alcohol cushioning his nerves.

He's paying attention now. ...However, he also has paint on his fingers, so he's trying to find someplace that isn't his fancy clothes to clean them off on. Half of his brain is on the question, and half is on his own problem--he's working slowly through both.

He shakes his head and shrugs, finally. He doesn't know; doesn't particularly care. But the way his head kind of lolls to the side a moment after says that he's maybe a little bummed about this fact. Eating is hard.

...Either that or it's just because he can't find anything better than the side of this water bottle to wipe his fingers on.

He tries to decide what to do with the minimal answer... but just ends up shrugging himself. Guess it's up to him, then.

Since it's getting late, he just navigates his way towards whatever smells good, whatever's still open. And hopefully, whatever's easy to eat. He takes a couple of turns, leads Coil down several streets...

And then he suddenly stops, tracing a couple of steps backwards--maybe bumping into Coil, if he wasn't paying attention. There's a little place tucked between two buildings that serves that kind of soup you can put practically anything in--so he heads in there. That'll be a good start.

Coil is paying attention this time, but not to Zhas. He's been busy trying to keep track of where they're going. Squinting at street signs, trying to quiz himself, mentally tracing the line back to where they'll need to go--that's where his attention is.

...And Zhas is on his blind side, so he gets bumped right into before he follows the change in direction.

Then they're heading inside and Coil is faced with the prospect of a new food. He's almost immediately tugging on Zhas' sleeve and asking him what he gets here, whether he actually gets Zhas' attention or not.

He does, thankfully. It's a smaller space, and they're kind of here for Coil, so it's easier for him to zoom in. Futhermore, looking invested keeps other people from bothering them.

He points to one particular thing on the menu up there, gestures a vague approximation of what's in it. And then he signs that he can choose... Fish, chicken... beef... He runs out of options after that, since those are the only three he gets anyway.

That makes it nice and easy--he appreciates the simplicity with how inordinately confusing the menu is seeming to him right now. He's not even entirely sure what it is that Zhas is referring to, but he can at least handle the choice of ingredients.

Beef used to be his favorite, back before it was a challenge to eat with any efficiency. Those days are long over, so he opts for something easy and hopefully flavorful enough to taste with only part of a tongue.

He makes a silly little swimming motion with his hand--the sign for fish.

Zhas nods and immediately wanders up to the counter to get them food. The man behind the register doesn't even give his makeup a second glance, seeing as the last person who ordered was Spiderman. It makes things easy.

Soon he walks back to Coil and grabs his upper arm, dragging him over towards one of the tables and getting him to sit down again. In his mind, it's easier than just telling him to go there.

And, in this case, it probably is easier to just put him where he's supposed to be. When Zhas grabs him, it's in the middle of him squinting mindlessly up at the menu, pretty zoned out. He's surprised when he's pulled along, but he also seems surprised to see Zhas in general. He'd missed his entire approach. There is quite the delay between blinking up at Zhas' face, and trailing down to look at the hand on his arm.

...He's pretty drunk.

At least he's less surly, however--obediently ragdolling along until he's guided into a seat.

There. When that's taken care of, he slides into the seat across from him--nearly falls over onto the seat, but dragging himself back up by the time works wonders--and settles down to lean on his elbows and lace his hands up over the back of his neck.

A weird resting position, but he does it a lot. Keeps him from touching his face. He just kind of settles into watching Coil, trying to figure out how drunk he is... Which is difficult, when he's still pretty drunk himself.

And hungry. That's distracting. And he wants another cigarette, too, but you're not supposed to do that inside.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject