with your feet in the air and your head on the ground, try this trick and spin it

[facilitated]

Who: Laura Hawley and Jesse Pinkman
What: Apologies and stuff
When: day 49; evening (after this
Where: Lighthouse
Warnings: Always always language, maybe mentions of drug use and previous violence. Dumb drinking perhaps


It's not the most foolproof method of trying to arrange an apology session, but it's the best she's come up with. Out of the house seemed like a good idea - the last thing she wanted to do was go to his room to apologise, find something she didn't want to see and start an argument up all over again. So out of the room it was, and out of the house seemed smarter. Neutral ground and all that, and that's where the lighthouse came in. The alcohol, well everything goes smoother with a drink to wash it down, right?

Basically it's not her best idea ever, but it's still an idea and better than the slow crawl towards something resembling a friendship that they're both trying to do right now. She's had enough of that, time to suck it up and wing this apology and hope to hell she doesn't completely screw it up. She's got two glasses from their kitchen, a bottle of something sweet and cheap for herself, and she's carrying her gun again. Sorry everyone, but she's not going to just lie down and wait for someone to come up and kill her too. Lord knows she'll never use it, but that doesn't mean that whoever it is killing people knows that.

Now all she can do is wait at the foot of the lighthouse. That is, of course, provided he even shows up.

Comments

[magnets]

Wow, rude. Jesse looks vaguely offended by this fact for whatever reason, as if ghosts are going to start pouring into town tomorrow and he's going to be completely useless against them. "Yo, but I could learn," he shoots back, a hand in the air.

He knows pretty well about that, how small this town is. It's kind of restricting, incredibly suffocating, but there's really not much they can do about it. No space for freedom, just the illusion of it. Can't even head out to a strip club whenever he feels like it (not like he's felt like it for some time). He nods his head along, setting down the six pack on the ground and gesturing around the room with the bottle as if it's something extravagant.

"Ya got a real good setup here," he comments, scratching idly at one of his eyebrows - he wants to ask and doesn't at once, like he's not gonna like the answer. "What's, uh. What's this all about anyway? Partytown for just the two'a us?"

[facilitated]

"What - from me? Dude, I'd be even more useless. You're not getting me anywhere near that freaky shit." She holds her hands up quickly, universal sign of surrender. She jams the door open with an empty bottle - clearly they're not the first to drink up here, and she doubts they'll be the last - there's no way in hell she's getting stuck up here.

The illusion of freedom is better than nothing, and for someone who's far more used to open spaces than confined rooms, the space up here is a godsend. She can't see the boundaries, and that alone makes her feel a little more comfortable. Comfortable enough to maybe get through this without making things worse, with any luck.

"Chill, I'm not going to jump down your throat." She gives him a quick shrug as she leans against the wall, sliding down into a seated position and settling down before going back to the wine. At least she's using the glass this time? So much classier. "This ain't the spanish inquisition, I just wanted to hang. Don't look so stressed, okay?"

[magnets]

Her shrug's met with another shrug, though a belated one that he gives before he heads his way a few more steps into the room, sets down his collection of booze next to Laura's own.

He doesn't know what to expect here, not with their relationship such a tumultuous thing as it's been lately. They'd gotten over some of the initial awkwardness at least, but that was something still in the works, worryingly so, and it meant he had to tread a little lighter, step around conversations a little more carefully than he used to have to. "I ain't stressed," he rebuts weakly as he takes a seat down on the ground next to the booze, cross-legged and tapping his fingers listlessly, in some kind of rhythm against one of his shoes.

Liquor. He's going to need liquor. He heads straight for the bottle of whiskey that she brought on her own, dumps a healthy amount into his own glass and raises it to her, tipping it towards her in a toast. "To classiness, am I right?"

[facilitated]

Straight to the spirits, she's got to appreciate that. His toast earns a small chuckle, and the corner of her mouth tugs into a half smile as she nods, raises her own glass and taps it lightly against his. "To classiness, for sure. Nobody doing it better than us right now."

Partly to live up to that toast, and partly because she could still feel her fingers and that meant she was too sober to have this conversation, she tipped her head back and downed the rest of the liquid within it. She's drinking to get drunk though, so she follows suit and pours a (notably smaller) glass of the whiskey before sniffing the contents of the glass slightly. God, she's really not a fan, but it's that or the only slightly more pleasant wine. She swallows a mouthful, and promptly pulls a face as she scrunches her features up.

"Wow, no." She laughs, shaking her head, and sniffs it again before quickly leaning over and dumping the last of it into Jesse's glass. "You can keep that, man. Do people actually like that stuff?"