"Ya think?" Hanging around the dark room in wet clothes wasn't exactly an appealing option, even if they were surrounded by alcohol. With or without the power hadn't gone out she wouldn't want to stay down there. Clean clothes were a much higher priority than the booze now, even if it meant having to climb several flights of stairs now that the elevators were most likely out.

Isabel had nearly forgotten there were more rooms on levels lower than the one she currently lived on, she was so rarely on the lower sub-levels. After the Stalker raids a number of residents had cleared out and failed to return. The Order's home base becoming public knowledge had chased off some more. Business wasn't quite as booming as it had been in the past, though the additional space left behind had never been a complaint of hers.

The shower could wait until she was back in her own room. She'd settle for just the dry clothes until then. "Guess we'd better get started, then," she sighed, listening to Zephyr stumble around and rattle bottles as he bumped into them. "If you can manage to stay on your feet."

A thin layer of bone covered the bottoms of her feet as she carefully unfolded her legs and slid off of the barrel. She hadn't worn any shoes on her travels since she'd been wearing her pajamas and hadn't forseen any issues with going barefoot. The crunch underneath her feet said otherwise. The glass couldn't have spread too far, though. Once they were back out into the halls she probably wouldn't have to worry about stepping on anything else harmful.

"Probably better than you," she replied, slowly sweeping her arm to the side until she found the wine rack nearest to her. There seemed to be a gradual tilt to the room thanks the the mild spinning that had begun in her head and the glass under her feet made her feel unsteady, but she was pretty sure she could still navigate efficiently enough, even if it wasn't in a straight line. The door would be easy enough to find, but beyond that there might be some difficulty.

"You sure you know your way around this place in the dark?" she asked while she busied herself puling a couple of bottles out of the rack. Just because they were leaving didn't mean they had to abandon all of the booze on their way out. There wouldn't be too much room in her arms to carry things if she had to support his weight, but some was better than none. "I've been here a lot longer than you and even I can't remember where everything is down here."

Gripping the necks of two bottles in one hand she shuffled her way back over to the table. Slowly swinging her arm out again she found one of his arms with her free hand and gathered his sleeve in her fingers with a light tug. "Come on then. Grab some bottles if you want and let's go." Leading him around while blind would be an interesting ordeal, but she'd be damned if she let something like total darkness get in her way.

Hearing the crunching of glass as Isabel got to her own feet with rather less stumbling than he had Simon merely rolled his eyes at her quip, leaning a shoulder against a wine rack as he waited for his inner ear to cease spinning. “It’s not really my feet that are issue; they’re well acquainted with the floor already.” He replied absently as he watched her weave slightly on her way to his wine rack. “I’m more concerned that the rest of me wants to make introductions.”

Honestly, part of him wanted to just sit down and go back to drinking; it was somewhat easier than trying to stand, on the other hand he had been in the equivalent of a cell for at least the past hour or two, even if it was a finely furnished cell; he wanted to stretch his legs and if he couldn’t do that midnight, or whatever godforsaken hour this was, when the power was out, a storm raged overhead and with only a mass murderer for company, when would he do it?

He nodded to himself, yes, that made perfect sense.

Just as long as he didn’t think about it.

"You sure you know your way around this place in the dark? I've been here a lot longer than you and even I can't remember where everything is down here."

Blinking for a moment at the question Simon simply shrugged, then remembered Duskmoor couldn’t actually see him. “It’s less a question of memory than it is senses.” He explained as she cautiously crept closer. “I can make my way in the dark about as well as I can in the light, the hallways are full of air after-.” Pausing as he felt something poke his side he realized it was Isabel’s hand, when had she gotten that close? And what was she? Ah, she getting drinks for the road ahead, not a bad idea honestly but he doubted she was overly fond of scotch, that was more an acquired taste.

Trying to catch her wrist and failing, he ended up guiding her arm with the back of his hand to a rack a few rows above. “Try these, I think they held the better stock, reds should be this row, whites were one below and I think vodka just above, not sure what you prefer but if you make a basket we could try a drop of all of them.”

After gathering their much needed supplies Simon quickly found himself managing something between a walk and a fall as Isabel all but dragged him towards the door, only to come up short when she instead met a wall, leaving him little option but to become briefly acquainted with her back before bouncing off and falling to the floor like a discarded marionette accompanied by the muffled sound of a crack and a dull ache.

When the world at last stopped tumbling the hessian carefully felt down his side with one hand, momentary confusion colouring his features when it came away wet before understanding settled and he carefully raised his head towards Duskmoor and spoke in a tone of pained despair. “I think I… broke something.”

A basket was a good idea. Wanting to take so much with them might have been another sign of shared alcoholism between the two of them, but that wasn't exactly a big concern for her at the moment. Finding and removing bottles from their racks in the dark without fumbling them was more pressing. Or putting down the pair she was already holding without them rolling away.

She managed it, though, and went to work fashioning something similar to a hand basket one would find at a grocery store, roomy enough for several bottles and sporting a pair of handles so she could hang it over her arm and still leave her hands relatively free. Following Zephyr's directions Isabel grabbed a bottle from each of the indicated shelves and retrieved the pair she'd set down, whatever they were, and started heading toward the door.

Had their table always been that close to the wall?

The bone of the basket cracked against the wall hard enough to loudly jostle the bottles but thankfully not quite hard enough to break any of them. Isabel just barely managed to turn her head and avoid crushing her nose, though it felt like her cheek gained and ugly scrape when Zephyr collided with her back.

She almost didn't hear the crack when the young man hit the floor over the sting of curses escaping her as she rubbed at her stinging face. "You're supposed to be steering, you jerk," she grumbled, taking a step back from the wall and toward where she could hear him complaining from the floor.

Hearing something splish when she set her foot down halted her movement and raised some concern. What did he mean something was broken? Had she heard a bottle break? The basket had done a lot of rattling, but did something break, too? She couldn't remember. Did he mean a body break? A body break was a lot worse than a bottle break.

A little unsteadily Isabel put her basket down and descended into a crouch. Her hand fell into the puddling liquid when her balance faltered and she had to catch herself. It wasn't warm so it wasn't blood. Probably. It was suddenly very hard to recall how quickly blood cooled once it had left a body. Not that fast, right?

"What did you break?" she asked, wiping her wet hand across a relatively dry spot of her pajamas once more. "Cuz if you broke you I don't think I can fix it if I can't see it." The Infirmary would still be up and running, but they'd have to get there first and given their rough start that might take some time.

This was not good.

Shifting his weight to brace himself with one arm the fallen hessian tentatively continued to explore his side, applying as little pressure as possible as he sought the source of the puddle that was steadily spreading across the floor.


He found it quickly enough, fingers lightly testing the edge of the opening before reaching the cracked remains of a bottle of port in his jacket pocket. The fall having split it along the base and up the side, turning what had promised to be a delightful drink into little more than growing stain across his clothes and the floor

Cleaning was it was going to be a nightmare.

Still that was a problem that could be dealt with another day. More pressingly he was wearing a drenched jacket that was doing it’s best to soak the rest of him, How did such a small bottle hold so much liquor? And did he mention it was cold? Giving a sullen sigh over the the entire situation Simon shook his head and started shrugging one arm out of the wet jacket as best he could with-

"What did you break?"


He blinked, and when nothing changed he did it again before realizing why it wasn’t before lifting his head out of habit to confirm what his senses were telling him. When had Isabel gotten that close? For a moment he thought she was going to trip over him but she caught herself with one hand so she was only leaning over him instead of...

Huh, that shirt really didn’t provide much support.

None really.

Someone was, no, Isabel was talking. Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts the hessian instead found the room began to spin slightly and he reflexively brought his free hand to his face to try and make the world stand still, which annoyingly, only served to make his face as wet as his hand as he quickly took the limb away again.

Wait, Isabel had asked a question hadn’t she? Something about breaking?

“Nothing hurt but my pride.” He told her as he collected his wits. “Wasted a good drink though.”. Shrugging out of the rest of his jacket he balled up the cloth and tossed it back towards the center of the room. He’d pick it up later, when he was sober, and could see. Not to mention walk straight.

Carrying a pocket full of glass just wasn’t a good idea.

Speaking of walking though, he should probably get on his feet again. Simple enough in theory but with Isabel leaning over him and uh, was she swaying slightly? No, no , focus. He had to stand up and if she wasn’t going to move well, “Give me a hand up?” He tried to catch her hand but missed and instead quickly settled for bumbing his arm into hers and guiding it down until he found her wrist, at which they clasped hands and the girl hauled him up with rather less effort than he was comfortable with, granted he was light, but still.

Carefully not shaking his head Simon tried to focus on keeping hold of Isabel as he waited for the sense vertigo to fade, a task which wasn’t made easier when she crouched down again to pick up the basket. Still he managed to keep his balance and once they were both upright he began leading the soubrette by the hand as he [staggered[/s] walked down the hallway.

That lasted all of perhaps 30 seconds before he abruptly found himself dragged backwards as Isabel yanked his arm up and around her neck so they were shoulder to shoulder and she was effectively acting as a crutch for him as she proceeded to set a more stable, if not faster, pace down the corridors.

Then again, speed generally wasn’t the best of ideas when one was in less than full command of their motor skills. So perhaps it was for the best. That said he still had a job to do.

“Another three steps then make a right, there’s a fire extinguisher on the right wall.”

“Could you pass the drinks?”

Directions were thirsty business after all.

"A bruised ego is good for someone like you." Any concern Isabel might have felt rapidly washed away as it was revealed that the broken object was just a drink. A shame to waste it, true, but it wasn't like it couldn't be replaced in a heartbeat given where they were. He was so dramatic sometimes.

Ignoring the goosebumps she could feel forming when he ran his hand down her arm in search of her own hand to grasp, she planted her feet and hefted him up with about as much effort as it took to lift the basket a moment later. It was almost hard to tell which one of them was heavier. Certainly the basket was easier to hold onto, though. It didn't sway quite so much.

And while being lead around was all well and good she didn't exactly want Zephyr's unsteady steps to wind up dragging her down and risk breaking any more bottles. Hooking his arm up around her shoulders was a much more sensible way to do things. Isabel was heavier and steadier than Zephyr, so even though there was still some sway in their steps and they progressed in a less than straight line, there was a smaller risk of him floundering around on the ground again.

Following his instructions she counted her steps and felt along the wall for the extinguisher. The metal frame of the door that covered the alcove it was housed in was set lower on the wall than she had expected and as such she very nearly missed it. "Do we need a fire extinguisher?" she asked, wondering why it had been pointed out. They probably didn't need one, right? It seemed like a thing no one would ever really need without a fire.

Standing as they were Isabel couldn't handle the bottles individually so instead she paused to slide the basket handles down her arm and into her hand, maybe bumping it into the young man's stomach a little harder than intended when she moved to offer it to him. Distance was hard to judge in the dark.

"Are there even rooms down this far?" Sliding the basket's handles back into the crook of her arm once she felt one of the bottles lifted from it, she started walking again, slowly, and rounded the corner as directed. She couldn't remember which level the rooms stopped occupying before the floors changed into spaces for things like storage and wine cellars and gold vaults. It was getting more difficult to sort memories from fuzzy drunk!brain ideas insisting that they were memories.

"Should we find stairs first?" Stairs made sense. Hunting around for extra clothes made sense, too, especially now that they were both covered in alcohol, but clothes hunting in the dark sounded hard. Stairs meant up and up meant finding levels with power on them.

“A bruised ego is good for someone like you.”

Delivering Duskomoor a dry stare over her oh so sympathetic words at his tragic plight, Simon gave an exasperated huff when he again realized she couldn’t see. “Well I’ll do what I can to pass the lesson along, what are friends for after all?”

Wandering down with the hallway with Isabel as a crutch was an… odd way to travel. He had a slight height advantage over the soubrette by simple dint of the fact that he still had shoes, but their strides were roughly the same so keeping pace wasn’t hard, as long as he kept one foot in front of the other, and even when he didn’t Duskmoor simply seemed to shrug her shoulders and he was back on track.

A quiet, almost murmuring part of him said he should be annoyed by that but he couldn't quite figure out why so he ignored it.

The other odd thing about walking with Isabel like this was that he felt like a scarecrow with slanted shoulders. Even with his slight height advantage having his up around her neck meant that he was slightly off kilter, it also pulled him close enough to her side that he could feel the damp cloth of her tank top seeping through his own shirt, and he couldn’t precisely pull away since she had one hand clamped down on his wrist at the hollow of her neck as though she thought it would get lost somewhere.

On the other hand she was warm and he had just lost a jacket, so perhaps it was best not to complain?

As they rounded the corner he’d pointed out the hessian felt their pace slow almost to a crawl as Isabel crept towards fire extinguisher and patting her hand along the wall until she found it. On asking why they needed Simon shrugged himself, settling a little more comfortable over the girls shoulder before he answered “No, I just didn’t want you to hit it. Not much of a guide if I run you into walls, assuming I don’t want you to go through them that is.”

In thanks for the care he had taken Isabel passed the basket of drinks with a little less care then he would have liked for someone who couldn’t currently see. That said he still had one hand free and managed to grab the edge of the basket, slowing it down so it stopped at his stomach instead of ramming it.

Just one of the many benefits of spatial awareness, which included but not limited to trying to identify a bottle by it’s shape and size. Hmm, the taller thinner one was likely a vodka, the wider pronounced shoulders were for a bordereaux, so usually a red, then the in between could be a white. “Is there anything you’d like?” The question was posed more out of habit than anything else, old school manners ground into him from a young age by father and teachers both and which had a habit of rising to the surface when he was distracted.

After choosing a bottle and letting Isabel take the basket back they began moving on once more, they bare made it a few steps down the new corridor though before she questioned their direction, leaving Simon to shake his head as he carefully took a sip from his liberated libation.

“Have a little faith Isabel, this place is like a warren I’ll admit but we’ve only been going a few minutes, it probably feels longer because we haven’t been walking in the straightest of lines.”

“Should we find stairs first?”

“We could, or we could go another ten feet and try the room on the right that has a bed and closet, it’s a little picked over but it’ll will be dryer than what you have now.”

"Booze is booze, it's all the same to me." Not that she even knew what was still in the basket, or really what exactly she'd put in there in the first place outside of the vague descriptions Zephyr had offered her while she had been picking over the shelves. Some alcohol was harder to get down than others, sure, but as long as she wound up at least a little tipsy then she could power through it with gradual ease.

And as luck would have it, she was more than a little tipsy. When exactly had she barrelled over that line? She thought she'd been doing so well with keeping count, too. Kind of. Details always got fuzzy a lot more quickly than anticipated. She was definitely not drunk, though. Isabel did not get drunk around people like Zephyr because bad things always seemed to happen once the drunk line had been crossed. And she'd definitely not crossed it yet. She was just toeing the line very carefully. So carefully.

"Yeah well you're a drunk driver and also a jerk so I gotta be sure we're goin' the right way." Not that she'd know if they were headed in the wrong direction either way, but he didn't have to know that. She was pretty much steering the ship, anyway, seeing as she was all but carrying him down the hallway. He just had to make sure she didn't run face first into anything. Again.

Hearing there was a room so close was a little surprising. Or maybe it wasn't so close. Time and distance were hard to keep track of in the dark. But Zephyr said it was close, so it was probably close. Ten feet she could imagine in a general sort of way, at least enough to not crash into anything. Keeping a hand against the wall as she went helped, that way she could feel for a door frame or any corners. Or fire extinguishers, even if they didn't need one.

When she found the door she went to test the knob only to find it wasn't even latched and just needed a nudge, which made opening the thing a lot easier when juggling a basket and a legless drunk. And once they were inside she could finally drop the young man's feather-light dead weight from her shoulders. Carefully drop, because he might break himself for real if he fell again and that would probably be a bad thing.

Working her way around the edge of the room by following the wall, she found the closet without to much trouble, though a couple loose items of something or other on the floor gave her a little difficulty for a moment. Maybe they were more clothes, but if that were the case then they were floor clothes and closet clothes were much better than floor clothes.

Placing her basket on the floor and opening the closet door she started feeling through whatever was on the hangers, occasionally pulling things down and tossing them back in what she was pretty sure was Zephyr's direction. He could have them once they were floor clothes. Fabrics that felt nice were draped over one arm. She could figure out approximately what they were when she was done rifling through the collection.

Retrieving a bottle of something from the basket on the floor, she blindly shuffled across the room until she found the bed Zephyr had mentioned and dumped the small pile of clothes onto the mattress. "So where we goin' next?" she asked offhandedly as she managed to open the bottle and take a sip. Vodka, eugh. She shivered as it burned its way down her throat and decided to focus on trying to figure out exactly what she'd grabbed from the closet. "Cuz even though spending time with your jerk face in the dark is just a ton of fun, I still think stairs is the best thing to be finding."

Was that a skirt or a belt? Blind guessing might be tougher than expected.

Turning his head to stare at Isabel in the darkness Simon felt no need to mask the bemused tone in his voice. “I may be a tad tipsy,” he admitted easily enough “but I can tell up from down, I just can’t always get from one to the other.”

“That aside though, how precisely would you be able to tell if we were going the wrong way? Last I checked you hadn’t reinforced the walls this far down,” largely because she hadn’t misbehaved enough to warranted him giving it as punishment duty. “I’m genuinely curious,”

The room they entered was, as best he could tell, fairly spartan; bed closet and another door which led to a bathroom whose shower lacked a curtain. There were a few odds ends on the floor which could have been anything from clothes to over sized dust bunny’s but all in all it gave the air of place that had been forgotten, which only made sense given these levels hadn’t seen real use since the time of camps.

As for why that was well…

Feeling his arm being lifted from Isabel neck Simons attention switched back to buxom brunette as she carefully returned his limb and even took a moment to steady him. In the handful of moments it took his hazed mind to process what she done the girl had already headed off in search of the aforementioned closet.

Huh, had Duskmoor just done something that could be called ‘nice’?

Shaking his head the elemental opted to take another drink rather than try and grasp the implications of the girls odd behaviour. Easier that way, they were both drinking, odd behaviour was to be expected, yes that made sense.

Wandering over to take a seat on the bed, and coincidentally be within arms reach of the basket Isabel had left on the left, Simon briefly ran a hand over the top of the covers and gave a slight sigh when he felt the familiar grainy texture of dust; he’d expected it but still would have liked to be surprised. Still the closet cloths should at least be clean-

A wad of cloth hit the floor and was soon joined by others as Isabel began to root through the closet heedless of the small dust clouds she was raising.

Well, if that was how they were going to do things…

Getting a good grasp on the duvet Simon heaved the cover aside and onto the floor before taking a seat on the newly revealed, and dust free sheets, or he would have, had Duskmoor not dumped a handful of garments where he planned to sit. Instead he chose to stand aside and enjoy another sip of the merlot as his drinking partner picked the vodka and found it to be less than to her taste, if the shudder she gave was any indication.

When she question him on where they were going next Simon could,’t help but give an amused hum when he answered. “Hmm? Are you sure you want me leading? I might take us in the wrong direction you know.”

“...even though spending time with your jerk face in the dark is just a ton of fun, I still think stairs is the best thing to be finding."

“Well look at it this way Isabel, since we’re in the dark you can get a wonderful of view of good side.” he told her dryly as he shuffled over to the closet to see what she’d left. “On another note you may want to be careful about over using the jerk line; if my sister hears it too often she’ll think it’s a sign of affection.”

Watching Isabel shiver as she took yet another sip of the Vodka Simon sighed and made his way over to her, being sure to make his steps audible regardless of the dust they might cause. “Here take this,” He placed the merlot in her free hand. “If you’re going to drink something it should at least be something that doesn’t offend you. A red wine will be smoother and it’s even meant to be taken at room temperature.”

Taking a seat on an empty part of the mattress Simon considered their situation again as he waited for Isabel make up her mind about the drink. “As for what we do next, well the back up generators are on this level, so if we don’t have power neither does Sanctuary, so little point going up stairs. That said, water lines tend to run separately from the power grid, so running water shouldn’t be a problem, it’s more a question of whether the shower here is still connected.”[/b]

"I'd figure it out," she replied, making a face in no particular direction. She probably would, eventually. They could only turn in the same direction so many times before they wound up going in a circle. Also Zephyr sometimes liked to gloat and she wouldn't put it past him to give himself away for the sake of making fun of her, especially with alcohol in him.

"You don't have a good side, even in the dark." That was probably the point he was already making, wasn't it? Well it didn't hurt to make it a second time. Dumb jerk face. "And Ghosty hears what she wants to hear. She already thinks we're some kinda thing so I'm gonna keep calling you names cuz it's not gonna stop her anyway." The woman really was delusional. One night at a bar and she was hearing wedding bells in her head. Ridiculous. Why was Isabel friends with her again?

Trying to examine clothes with a bottle in one hand was proving to be tricky. It was even harder when a second bottle was passed to her as an offer to switch drinks. She was a bit surprised by the gesture, but maybe the young man just wanted to trade off on a bottle that wasn't quite as empty. Still, any kind of wine would be better than what she was currently trying to stomach. Apparently she wasn't quite drunk enough to handle straight vodka. "Isn't offending me like one of your favorite things to do?" Still, she accepted the offer and handed off the less desirable bottle. Booze was booze, but it was a lot easier to chase off her sobriety with something that didn't make her cringe every time she took a sip.

Not having power on the upper levels wasn't what she wanted to hear. She groaned at the thought and went back to rifling through the pile in front of her. She thought she'd found a shirt that felt like it was big enough to fit her and set it aside. "Showering in the dark sounds difficult," she commented, not exactly relishing the idea of trying to shower in the same room as Zephyr, either. Still, running her hands across the walls had made them feel grimy from the dust that had gathered since the rooms were last in use and walking around with a dried film of wine on her skin until the power came back on wasn't exactly appealing. Maybe it was worth the risk.

Were those shorts? Those felt like they were probably shorts. They joined the shirt off to the side. "And are we supposed to just stay here until the power's back? Cuz it's dark and dusty and I don't think I like that." Also they had less booze than they had started with. They could probably go back and get more, but then they'd be right back where they'd started and that seemed counterproductive.

"You don't have a good side, even in the dark."

Was she being redundant on purpose or was she just playing? He gave a mental shrug, little matter really; in for a penny and all that. “True enough, I suppose I’ll just have to hide behind yours, oh wait.” He wasn’t smirking no, not at all. And no one could prove otherwise.

And as far as his sister hearing- wait, “Ghosty?” Had Isabel just given his sister a nickname? Of her nickname? He opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again to take a drink. On the one hand it made sense and rather fit his snow haired sister, on the other hand she was responsible for that one night debac- and now he was thinking about it again, just peachy.

“There is no fairness in this world.” The bemoaned comment was directed more towards the ceiling than anything.

Switching drinks with Isabel, Simon took a tentative sip of the vodka and managed to only wince as it burned down it’s throat. The stuff was just a potent and tasteless as he remembered, Little wonder Russians were so belligerent really.

"Isn't offending me like one of your favorite things to do?"

Coughing slightly to clear his throat from the vodkas passage he used the sound to adopt a posh, holier than thou inflection. “I believe the common parlance is ‘teasing’, its rather the thing among one’s companions.” His voice fell back to a more casual tone, “and don’t pretend you don’t give as well as you get. If, what's the term? ‘Sass’ was a mutation, you’d have it.”

"Showering in the dark sounds difficult,"

He shrugged, the gesture again going unnoticed. “It’s not that different from washing your face, you’d feel the water and know where your body is in relation, you’d just be a little slower and it’s not as if we’re short on time.

Toeing a pile of nearby clothes that had avoided the duvet he tried to determine if the top item was a shirt or a pillowcase with little success. “Honestly a warm shower sounds rather tempting right now.” Basements were not known for their ability to retain heat, nor were wet, slowly drying shirts.

Turning his attention to the items Isabel had dumped on the bed Simon neatly whisked one of the top articles away before Isabel could notice, flicking it through the air once or twice to find out it was… an apron? Why on earth was there an apron in a closet?

“And are we supposed to just stay here until the power's back? Cuz it's dark and dusty and I don't think I like that.”

Blinking as he turned his attention back to the soubrette the elemental considered the question for a moment as his senses swept through the room. The dust was rather noticeable now, what with the duvet having been tossed onto the floor, but it was beginning to settle again, still didn’t change the fact they’d likely have a fine layer of the stuff before they left unless…

“Power could come back in minute or one hour, no way to tell. As for the dust, getting rid of it isn’t hard,” he claimed, rocking onto his feet again with only a few stumbled steps. He’d been aiming for that wall, it hadn’t jumped up on him and anyone who suggested otherwise was a degenerate liar. “But I’m not sure we want to be in here when I do it.”

Blowing dust out of a room while drunk? Simplicity itself. Doing so without covering both of them from head to toe, well that was a horse of a different colour.

He took another drink, this time enjoying the burn as it made its way down. The cold was starting to getting annoying.

“Bathroom or closet?”

And what did it say that he didn’t find asking such a question odd in the slightest?

Isabel had all the good sides, they were just full of murder and it was hard for people to see the goodness while they were being stabbed. But she wasn't going to argue the point with him because he wanted her to be angry and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Not like he complained about any of her sides before, but that was definitely not going to be a thing that was discussed. Ever.

"Ghosty. But I think she got put in my phone as sistyfriend5eva or something like that." She patted down her shorts where her phone would normally be as if to double check, forgetting that her pajamas didn't have any pockets. She should probably change that contact name soon. And maybe delete the photos and texts. They seemed like incriminating things. Why hadn't she deleted them yet?

She waved a hand through the air as if to wave off Zephyr and his weird voice nonsense. Teasing, offending, it was all the same. He harassed her nonstop and any sass she gave back was simply retaliation. Turnabout was fair play, duh. "I don't remember agreeing to be your companion. More like mutual inconveniences." Not that she'd agreed to that, either, but there they were.

Showering blind still sounded difficult despite his reassurances. Not only was it dark but they were in a strange room, similar as it might be to the others in the Sanctuary, and her head was really starting to swim now that she had something easier to drink. Showering blind while the room spun would really be a challenge. She could manage it, though. Probably. If there was something to hold onto.

The prospect of dusting the room took her focus away from her doubts and back into the present. She couldn't see how much dust had settled everywhere, but she could certainly feel it. It made her feel grimy all over and she didn't like it one bit. "Yes, do the dusty thing," she encouraged, the idea of spending an undetermined amount of time in the dark room seeming less horrible if the room could be at least a little cleaner.

As for the options presented for getting out of the way, she didn't particularly care for either of them. Couldn't they stand in the hallway? No, maybe not if that's where all the dust was going to go. The bathroom was roomier, but if they went in there then it would still be dusty and showering in a dusty room seemed like it would ultimately be pointless.

"Closet it is, then," she sighed, a little less than carefully making her way back to the small enclosure. She might have tripped over the clothing on the floor on her way there, but miraculously she managed to catch herself and avoid winding up on the floor herself. Once she'd reached the closet she proceeded to toss the remaining hanging clothes out onto the floor to make more room to stand. And she didn't even trip on any of them.

"Alrighty, let's go," she said, turning to back her way into the closet and speaking to the room in general, having lost track of Zephyr while she'd been moving around. "Chop, chop, make with the dusting!" She would have clapped for emphasis, but she still had a bottle in her hand and she wasn't in any hurry to spill more booze on her. She supposed she'd just have to hurry and drain it if she wanted to be more emphatic.

"Ghosty. But I think she got put in my phone as sistyfriend5eva or something like that."

He blinked. That was... It didn’t... Why would- No. No. He knew the path of madness when he saw it and even his drowned sanity wanted nothing to do with it. He’d take the high road and just not say,

“Dare I ask why?”

Intoxication, meet low impulse control, you’ll be the best of friends.

He could drink to that.

He did.

"I don't remember agreeing to be your companion. More like mutual inconveniences."

Tilting his head in bemusement Simon gently swirled the remnants of the vodka in his hand. She was precisely wrong; the pair of them generally got along like a house on fire, one still full of women and children. While things had calmed somewhat since their last… escapade, they weren’t precisely amicable.

Hmm, now that he thought about it, this was probably the most civil they’d ever been to each other. It had only taken what? Half a winery, maybe more? And here he thought alcohol was meant to fray ones rapports.

“Oh? Is that the term these days? I suppose I should count myself fortunate indeed. A mere inconvenience to the mighty Miss Duskmoor.”

"Yes, do the dusty thing,"

At least his offer for cleaning met with approval, though the decision to move to the closet was unexpected. When had he last hidden a closet? That was what they were doing wasn’t it? Had he hidden in a closet before? He wasn’t sure, not that he couldn’t do it. You just walked in and shut the door. Simple.

He measure the space from his spot by the wall to the door across the room, then finished the vodka. Perhaps if he kept drinking he’d push past inebriety and start back at sober, that was generally how these things went wasn’t it?

A tangle of, shirts? Shorts? Something. Something flew over the bed to land by his feet as Isabel, having already navigated the treacherous path of the floor, had made it to the aforementioned closet and seemed determine to empty the entire contents across the room.

At least she hadn’t hit him yet.

Staggering away from the wall and crossing towards the bed as Duskmoor groped through the closet Simon made an immediate beeline back towards the bed. To the untrained eye, assuming one could see, it may have appeared that he was moment away from toppling when he reclaimed his previous seat, but in reality he was merely taking a leisurely pause as he chose his next drink from the basket his buxom companion had thoughtless abandoned.

"Alrighty, let's go,”

Libation in hand the hessian switched his attention back to Isabel, who seemed to have finally cleared the closet and was now gesturing quite energetically with one hand, almost as if she wanted to clap-

“Chop, chop, make with the dusting!"

Rolling his eyes in the darkness Simon pushed off from the bed, bracing one hand against the doorframe as he resisted the urge to give a bow; there was wasn't much point if she couldn’t see it, instead adopting a desert dry tone. “As you wish M’lady, though if you’d take a mite step back it would help safeguard thy vanity. ”

Ah, high school drama courses; you prove you lack of worth in new and unimagined ways every time, truly you were little more than an excuse for unappreciative adolescents to butcher Shakespeare and make a further mockery of British culture.

When Isabel didn’t make any immediate move to give him room he let out a sigh of his own and debating carrying through on his earlier threat to launch a cork in the gamines direction. As bad as the English education system might be, it was at least better than the bloody colonies. “I can’t shut the door if you don’t make room.”

That apparently got through to her and the brunette managed to shuffled backwards slightly enough to let Simon step in after her, or he would have, had a certain someone not dumped a pile of clothes right inside the door.

With both momentum and coordination acting against him a startled curse left his lips as he found himself falling into the closet after Isabel.

"Drunkbrain is a weird thing." How had that nickname come about? She couldn't quite remember, so much of that night was more of blur than anything else. The real question was why the name had stayed after soberbrain was back in charge. Probably best not to dwell on it. Soberbrain wasn't exactly running the show at the moment anyway. She'd worry about the phone name later.

"I don't speak old timey nerd," she said, tipping the bottle back and giving a dismissive wave. A couple of her books had stories written in that weird Shakespearean kind of way, but she didn't spend much time reading those particular ones. Thee, thy, thou. They all ran together after a while and reading enough of it just made her glad no one spoke like that anymore. Well, almost no one. Zephyr was just proving her inconvenience point with his dumb old man words.

Once he fell back on normal people words and she could understand what he was trying to say, she moved back into the closet as far as it would allow before her heels hit the back wall. It felt a lot shallower from the inside but not uncomfortably so, especially without any of the clothes hanging in it. "Alright, now hurry up," she complained, lifting the bottle again to drain the last of the liquid inside. He was always so long winded and hardly ever in a good, useful way.

Hearing the expelled curse and feeling the sudden impact of the young man's body nearly caused her to lose her mouthful of wine. She lost the bottle, but managed not to spit out all of the booze, some of it dribbling down her chin but most of it going down in a hard, less than comfortable swallow that she felt make its way all the way to her stomach.

He didn't weight all that much, but when he fell into her so suddenly it was still enough to knock some of the wind out of her and pusher her back flush with the rear wall. It was not a very soft wall. "Those are mine. Rude!" she protested, feeling a vague sense of deja vu while she swiped the back of one hand against her damp chin and pushed at Zephyr's chest with the other to try and get him away from hers. "There's no dust in there! Stop being so clumsydrunk and go do the dusty thing where it's actually dusty!" The closet was suddenly feeling so much smaller and her face much hotter. The faster he whisked all the grime out of the room the faster they could get out of their enclosure and she could put some space back between them.

She needed another drink.

"Drunkbrain is a weird thing."

That… didn’t really answer anything. Then again, perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t sure his mind was quite ready to try and interpret whatever mental gymnastics had led Isabel to arrive at her chosen sobriquet for his sister. Judging from her lack of care the soubrette likely didn’t even remember how the name came about though the fact she didn’t find it odd enough to change said something, what precisely he wasn’t sure, but that was a matter better left for a more sober mindset.

“But not weird enough for you to change the name?”

That didn’t mean he couldn’t ask now though, or that he even needed to remember the answer. It was just oddly compelling, the social equivalent of a slow motion trainwreck.

Fascinating as Duskmoors thought process was (and wasn’t that a perplexing notion in and of itself?) the gamine herself was rather more focused on his earlier offer and had patience for little else as she hurriedly urged him into the closet with her.

Unfortunately, gravity was a fickle mistress or, to utilize the more colloquial parlance, an utter bitch, who was more than ready to kick one when they were down, and even when they weren’t. Thankfully though the closet was only a few feet deep at most and before he really knew what was happening Simon found himself with one arm braced against the back wall, his free hand finding purchase in something warm and soft, as the rest of him fell against the soubrette, with his face close enough to hers that he could hear the light gasp she made at the contact and the panting breaths that followed.

Why did this seem so familiar?

Almost without thinking he turned his face to meet hers-

"Those are mine. Rude!"

And stopped, the breathless protest taking a moment to work its way through his thoughts; what was hers? Was she talking about the clothes? “If you didn’t want them stepped on you shouldn’t have left on the floor” He grumbled as he used her own hand to help push himself back and balance on his feet, at which point he realized precisely what his other hand had grabbed hold of as it rose and fell in time with Isabel’s breaths.

Huh, had they been that heavy-

"There's no dust in there!

Blinking in the darkness he tilted his head to the side, was he hearing things or had she just squeaked? Her voice got high enough that he couldn’t quite tell, before he could take that thought much further though another one rose from the fog in his mind “How can you tell? Isn’t it too dark to see?”

Stop being so clumsydrunk and go do the dusty thing where it's actually dusty!"[/b]

Yes, there it was again, either a squeak or a hiccup, but it was second now to the flustered note which had crept into her words. Still, he took the moment to reach out behind him and pull the closet door closed, only struggling for a brief moment in getting it over the pile of clothes that had been left in the way, before it slipped into its frame with a dull click that gave him yet another sense of deja vu as he found himself pressed flush against Isabel once again so that they were almost nose to nose.

“You can’t step back anymore can you?” No stupid question he could feel the size of the room and she was already up against the back wall.

...dusting, he was meant to be dusting. A gradually growing gust began to circulate outside the closet as he tried to focus on anything except the fact that he was all but hugging Duskmoor, which wasn’t helped by the fact that she was pleasantly warm and soft- this wasn’t working.

Tilting his head to the right, he focused for a moment on the patch of wall just over her left shoulder and then swung his head into it.

That worked.

((OOC: apologies for the belated reply. As you can likely tell I’ve gotten rusty again so if you want anything changed let me know.))

Isabel shook her head. No, there was no where else for her to go in the mall space. She was already pressing her back against the wall fairly hard to try had make as much extra space as possible. With the door closing them in it didn't feel like they could get any more cramped. She though she felt her nose brush something. Was she still shaking her head? Yup. She quickly stopped shaking her head. At least being flush against the wall made her less dizzy from the shaking.

Finally the dusting was a thing that was happening! She could faintly hear some of the loose fabric fluttering around and the closet door rattled a little. It sounded awfully loud in the small space, but it was loud in a good way, not like the too-loud Zephyr talking too close to her face. It was a productive sound and it meant that cramped space time would be ending soon.

The sudden movement from the young man and the loud bang next to her head effectively startled her enough to make her jump with a small squawk. What the hell was that? Had he really just smashed his face against the back wall? Like on purpose? It had certainly felt forceful enough to have been a deliberate move, but why? What could he possibly gain from breaking his face?

She was just as surprised to realize that her free hand had shot up to try and find the side of his head, but she wasn't really sure why. Was she concerned? It felt more like apprehension than worry, though his trouble with headaches did come to mind.

"Don't break you face!" she chided in lieu of considering her reflexes any longer. She dropped her hand again, unintentionally noting that she hadn't felt any blood just yet. "Breaking your face is supposed to be a thing that I do! Eventually. And when it's not dark so I can see the breaking."

That would be so satisfying, too. His big dumb jerk face all smooshed. Isabel smirked at the idea, then a giggle bubbled up. "Your dumb face would look so much dumber if it was broken." The idea of smooshed face Zephyr was striking her as funnier and funnier. She was starting to laugh in earnest, suddenly grateful for the wall at her back to help keep her standing up relatively straight instead of doubling over. "Big dumb smoosh face!"