He'd been thinking about him again. It wasn't good. In fact, it was rather damaging. He'd been incessantly cleaning for the best part of two hours and was getting to the point where he was running out of stuff to scrub. The wooden furniture had been polished, that was a new one for him. Just one layer of see through lacquer, most of them already had a stain anyway; it was just to make them shiny again. He was happy he had done what he could for the room; the rest was up to it for the time.
'Why can't I stop thinking about him still...'He felt miserable. Miserable to the level that leads to nothing but trouble, and lots of it. Or at least the type that leads to a headache the next morning and very little memory of the night before. He had dressed for the occasion, completely average clothing. A shirt, a thin zip up hoodie, jeans, the normal sort of stuff. All that was left to do was grab his wallet and move his ass. Preferably somewhere where they have very little scrutinising of I.D. involved. Mutant fear helped too, though only for a short while.
'Lets see what these yanks have got.'Cafas left his room, boots thudding down on the floor in a determined manner. Determined to get absolutely smashed. He'd never had to deal with emotions that extreme before in his adult life. Adult by Australian standards anyway. He would emulate the movies. Inaccurate portrayals of life as they were he had nothing else to base his conclusions off. Thus, downstairs he headed, and out the front door.
'Should I get a cab? No, I'll run it.'Reaching the gates with the satisfying crunch of gravel C.J. started off at a slow jog, building up to a maintainable pace in the direction of the city. In no time the light of the sky had faded, and had been replaced with what had to be the largest collection of fluorescent lights in the world. He scanned the vicinity for a club, a pub, a bar, just about anything. He had his I.D. on him. To be fair it listed him as nineteen but that hardly seemed to matter to some people. He had to hand it to America though, it was still stricter than Australia in that manner, he'd been turned around plenty of times in America. He wasn't interested in legality that night though.
'Look for a crowd, they won't be as likely to check.'He spotted exactly what he needed, a bored bouncer. The line was long but fast moving; the night was, as they say, young. Cafas popped in behind someone who looked roughly his own age and started the process. He didn't care where he was, as long as it had noise. He didn’t want to hear himself think for the next... however long was necessary.
'This is taking too long...'Eventually it was his turn. He flashed his card for a moment and was waved through. Not even a proper check, he was just making sure they had something to show. Professional... Cafas stepped through the door and was hit almost instantly by the wave of sound. Worked for him. The bar was crowded; the dance floor alive, the population of the club was only increasing. That suited him just fine. He sighed to himself, pulled himself together, approached the bar, and sat on the only available seat. He was automatically rounded on by the guys around him; he noticed them sizing him up. Clearly they were together, a team. Had they been expecting a woman to sit there? they had that sort of look to them, so he wouldn't put it past them.
'Say something and piss off, or start a fight, make my day a**holes.'"Bartender, a beer for my friend here!"Cafas was surprised. Apparently they had sized him up as 'worth their time'. Maybe they were gay? It didn't matter; he'd had a beer bought for him within minutes. The guys seemed to be smiling. Good enough for him, he'd take it as a friendly gesture. Each of them already had a drink.
"Thanks mate." C.J. yelled over the noise, nodding his greeting to each of them. His own drink soon arrived; the leader seemed to grin wider. Cafas proceeded to drown the unending torrent of thought of Calley in his first beer. That would get him nowhere though. He indicated for another and slapped down the amount indicated on fingers.
'I bet he hates me for it... God damn why did I have to say anything...'”Long day?”It was the leader again. Were they still there? Apparently so. He looked up from his second drink, already half empty and nodded with one of those expression on his face that said ‘You’re not wrong.’
”F***in’ oath. Just need to unwind.” He finished his drink and slid the glass away from himself. Two in five. Likely not good for him. He wasn’t thinking about that though, it was one of those days. He had an automatic third placed in front of him. Apparently the bar tender thought he needed more. Well, clearly he was the expert. Cafas let it sit there though. His stomach may have been empty, but that much to drink could still fill him up, at least a little.
’I’ll wait a little while.”Sup? Need something stronger? I agree.”Cafas was confused... Had he actually said something? He was fairly sure he had not. Regardless another liquid in a small glass was placed in front of him. He observed it momentarily. He had no idea how to work a shot. What was its purpose? Did it taste nice? Many questions kept him occupied as his remorse deepened in a part of his brain that he couldn’t quite detect at the time. He watched one of the guys next to him and emulated. It wasn’t that bad as a taste. Actually it was but he wasn’t admitting that, it warmed him up on the inside. That was good. Why was another already in its place? Hey, that guy’s wallet looked just like Cafas’... small world. He drank the second one and looked around. Right now, talking seemed like a good idea, talking to anyone.
”You know, I was on T.V.” He paused and nodded
”Yup, taking down a giant monster, Christmas eve.” A general consensus that that was cool, and drink for all from the wallet that looked remarkably like his but couldn’t be because his was in his pocket.
*************************************
One hour later.
’How many is this?’Cafas had lost count a long time ago, but the bartender was refusing to serve him now, saying he needed to leave before he puked. What? C.J. didn’t even feel sick! Either way, he was insistent, so Cafas stood as upright as he could manage on the boat like ground and bid his new friends farewell in what could only be described as a ‘wicked slur’ before walking in the straightest line he could toward the door, laughter and farewells behind him. He was angrily shoved by some one... two... three. Then he was out, straight onto his face. Still, he reasoned, if the ground wasn’t so unstable it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe there was a mutant near him playing a game with him. What a jerk.
’Right, mansion.’He went in the direction indicated by the guy who had clearly read his mind, or heard him say something he didn’t think he had. He stumbled his way onward, searching his immediate viscinity for the joker playing with the ground. What had he been drinking anyway? He didn’t know. All he knew is that he had clearly left his wallet back at the mansion, and that he needed desperately to curl up and cry. But not just yet, the mansion was a better place for that. He wasn’t quite sure how people kept knowing where he was going. Possibly they were all psychic? And why did the lamp posts all keep getting hand prints in them? What were they made of? Jelly? He pushed himself off yet another one.
’Oh, I can see the gates. I wonder if Calley is back.’That was when his stomach gave in and expelled the intruding poisons. Toxins really. Right into the gutter. It was a good shot too. Cafas righted himself back right onto his ass and pushed himself up again, feeling considerably lighter. He’d been getting worse since leaving the club, likely due to the volume he still had him. He managed to get to the gates without incident, but there came into a roadblock, he was not able to keep himself up without support, and there wasn’t much in the way of usable between where he was and the front door. He tried anyway. He found himself on hands and knees.
’Calley can help...’Cafas got inside. He was completely disoriented. Very very much so. The first person reminded him that the last time he had seen Calley; he had been running away from him. This made Cafas want someone to whom he could cry, possibly talk. He asked for mirror with the next person, but it seemed everyone was sending him somewhere else. He ended up in another corridor, where he promptly collapsed onto the floor, possibly the ceiling, maybe a wall... Regardless, collapsed.
’Kill me...’((OOC. continued in
Code of silence ))
