demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

[as much as she considered her ability to stay on the bull, she was certain that the crown wasn't going to stay on her head, so it got left at the bar with her drink.]

Yes, very good point.

[she finds both the drink and the crown right where she left them and lifts the glass to toast her friend.]

To removing inhibitions.

[and finishes it.]

[She finishes something, but it's quickly miracled water, rather than whatever the contents of the drink was before.]

Listen, that's great, I'm a big fan of removing inhibitions, properly in line with my work that it is, but we don't drink alcohol we've left unattended. That's how we get drugged.

[And knowing what Duplicity is like, there's a lot worse things that could be given to someone than a roofie. He's sure Wynonna runs a tight ship, especially with Diana on security, but there's only so much that can be done about these sorts of things.]

[that didn't taste quite right and she gives the small glass a curious look as if it's somehow betrayed her before glancing up at her friend.]

Drugged?

[well. the glass goes back on the counter, the crown gets scooped up in her hand and she gives him a very pretty smile.]

You might be right, Anthony. [she shakes her head as if to clear it, which only heightens the dizziness, and she sways where she stands before motioning toward what she thinks may be the entrance.]

Onward.

Not everyone's all that chivalrous.

[He'll explain when she's sober, about being careful with unattended drinks and accepting them from strangers.

When she sways, he steps in close again, a hand returning to her back, the other gentle beneath her arm to offer some balance. She's apparently forgotten about her shoes, but he decides not to bring it up, he'll just buy her a new pair.]

I miracled myself here, d'you think you're up for travelling that way, or should I call us a ride?

[Teleporting himself drunk usually just ends up with an impromptu trip to some country in Africa, but he's not sure what effect it'll have on a drunk mortal.]

[he's always so kind to her and the shoes have long been forgotten, so she taps him gently on his shoulder before going on bare toes to lift the crown to his head.]

I trust you. You are my dearest friend, Anthony. And now? You're a queen.

[is that 'yes, let's just go' or 'yes, call us a ride' because she's not sure, but he does look quite fetching wearing the crown of the queen of france.]

[Worry aside, there's no helping his chuckle as he realizes what she's doing. He even bends slightly to make it easier for her to set the crown on his head.]

If I'd known I was coming to my coronation, I'd have worn a nice dress for it.

[Gently, he takes both her hands, holding them firm in his own.]

We're going back to my flat now, alright?

[Without moving in any conceivable way, they're suddenly standing in his kitchen. It currently smells like freshly baked scones, because there's a dozen of them sitting on a wire rack on the counter.]

I have plenty of dresses for you, though you may be a bit...

[well, tall. but her eyes go wide as if to insinuate that he should know that and forms a knowing look, so it could really mean anything at this point in her drunken state.

when he takes her hand and attempts serious, she does, too. and then they're somewhere else entirely and that's a new trick and though she feels unbalanced, she's absolutely delighted at scones.]

You are utterly magical. Scones.

[give her a minute on the transport.]

I've plenty of my own dresses, thank you very much. M'not going to trying squeezing into yours.

[That's not entirely true, he really only owns one dress at the moment, since he doesn't actually have many physical items of clothing, but still.

He releases her once they're in the flat, stepping back to make sure she has plenty of space.]

You can have one, if you'd like, they're only a test run for tomorrow.

[Getting some food into her is probably a good idea, too.]

Is there an occasion tomorrow for scones?

[honestly, the kitchen is not her space, but she'll peek over the ones he's made. occasionally athos cooks, though she often wishes he wouldn't.]

I cannot cook. One of the many things a queen is not allowed to do.

[she lifts one and picks a piece from it, humming her pleasure at the taste.]

I've got a date.

[It likely goes without saying that it's with Aziraphale, that the scones are for him, because he's the only person Crowley puts in this much effort for. He'll share food he's made with other people, but only specifically cooks for Aziraphale.]

You could learn, you know, it's not half as tricky as it seems.

[He's glad she seems to like them, though he's well aware that drunk people don't have the highest standards.]

You want a cup of tea with that?

[Despite having offered alcohol earlier, getting something not boozy into her seems smarter.]

[her drunk self would argue that he's currently cooked for her, even if that wasn't his intention, but it'd get lost somewhere in the translation. probably.]

Learn to cook? [she waves a hand and this is probably as entitled as he'll see her.] I've never even seen a kitchen, Anthony. It's not allowed. I made a fish once. [wait.] Several fish. For my Musketeers.

[it's all said while she pops pieces of the scone into her mouth and then it's gone and she's confused because... who ate her scone?]

You said you had very good alcohol. [and another look around shows her that they're in his kitchen.] I was hoping to find someone in that bar who could... [she lowers her voice to a whisper:] help me with my problem.

You've seen a kitchen, you're in one.

[He looks terribly amused, and considers asking her about this fish story when she's a bit more sober, so he can get it out of her properly.

For now, he hands her another scone when the first is finished, determined to ply her with food, especially if she's going to keep drinking. Which she's apparently determined to do.]

Ah. [This is something different. He softens a little, watching her carefully.] Quota?

[Whether or not that was a bad idea, he won't deal with right now, since she's not likely to take any kind of lecture to heart. He just wants to be sure they're on the same page.]

I am in one!

[it's a declaration of truth as she takes the scone and begins to eat that one, too, as if she hadn't stopped with the first one.]

I shall let you teach me how to cook. I want to learn... [she ponders the scone in her hand, takes a piece off to eat, and then goes with:] Bread. I adore bread.

[her eyes go wide as he mentions quota and she gives him a solemn nod.]

I released an advertisement on the network and had an offer from a vampire and a wizard. [without horror, and that's the alcohol's effects, she merely asks:] Are you aware of what a vampire is capable of, Anthony?

[She shouldn't be this adorable.]

Alright, alright, I'll teach you how to make bread.

[He has a feeling she might change her tune in the cold light of morning, so he doesn't mind agreeing to it right now. And bread isn't the most difficult thing to make, it's more tedious, than anything.

He's a little worried about the vampire thing, though. He reaches out gently to touch her shoulder.]

No one hurt you, did they? I'm well aware what vampires are capable of, and if one's hurt you, they'll be in for a rude bloody awakening.

[she may change her mind, she may not, but he's agreed and she's thrilled. nothing has made her happier since setting foot in the city, she's sure of it, and that happiness is apparent on her face.

and then he's somber with the touches and showing concern and she attempts to ease some of it.]

I must confess that I've made no promises with him simply because of his... nature. Perhaps it was rude of me, but I do not wish to put myself in harm's way unneces-- [hold on.] -- unnecessessar-- [wait.] -- needlessly.

[a quick smile.] The wizard is not allowed to look anyone in the eye and I find that disconcerting -- [on the first try!] -- so I must continue to search.

It's not rude to look after yourself. [It's not that he thinks vampires are necessarily evil, but they can do a lot of damage if they're anything like the myths he's familiar with, and that worries him.

Her comment about the wizard reminds him that he's wearing his glasses, and he carefully slips them off, folding them up to leave them on the counter. If she finds it disconcerting not to be able to meet someone's eyes, he should let her see his, considering what he's about to offer.] Anne, I don't —

[He's trying not to make this awkward, but he's not sure there's a way around it.]

If you need help with that sort of thing, you're welcome to come to me. You don't have to, I'd never — not if you didn't want to. But I'd rather not see you get hurt with strangers, or end up in realignment.

[as queen, not looking her in the eye has, in the past, been considered the rudest of gestures and she's finding that the people she's meeting don't have the same level of propriety that she's known in her life; an odd distinction to make in a city where sex is the best way to make friends.

she's touched by his concern for being harmed by a vampire, but as he takes off his glasses, she realizes that he's done so because of what she's said and though her emotions are heightened because of the exceedingly large amount of alcohol she's consumed, her entire expression softens into fondness anyway.

then he goes on and her brow furrows out of concern, reaching to place a hand on his forearm.]

I would be honored. [and grateful, so it's said with sincerity and inebriation.] But I refuse to put you into an uncomfortable position with your angel.

[she's not even about to attempt aziraphale's name.]

[No one's ever been honored to fool around with him before, and he'd be more amused by the choice of words if this weren't serious.]

We're not, uh, exclusive. Not here, we both know it's a bit tricky to maintain in a place like this, and I was sort of seeing someone, before he got here. He said not to break it off, so I've got to assume he's alright with me being with other people, as long as we're honest with each other about it.

[It isn't at all how they'd be back home. Crowley hates the idea of sharing Aziraphale with anyone, and has very little interest in other humans, but it's not really practical in Duplicity.]

Then be certain you are honest.

[it's decisive as she can make it and she pops the last piece of scone in her mouth before reaching for the ties at the side of her shirt. it buttons all down the front and those would be a mess for her, but the problem with standing for too long and either not drinking continuously and/or having a serious conversation is that the exhaustion sets in.

especially if it's getting late. so, while she wants to focus on the slender ties holding the bottom of the shirt closed, she sways where she stands, a consequence of lowering her gaze. she lifts her head too fast to compensate and has to put a hand out to steady herself.

only then does she realize:]

I may have had quite a bit to drink tonight.

[Crowley steps forward easily, settling his hands on her waist to help her steady herself, not wanting her to go toppling sideways in his kitchen.]

Why don't we get you tucked into bed, hm? You can sleep off all this alcohol, and we'll chat in the morning about what you want to do with all the... other things.

[He's not about to let anything happen tonight, when she's drunk enough that she left her crown behind in a crowded bar.]

[she lets him steady her, the first person to put his hands on her like so in a very long time and, for a moment she panics, even though nothing else is happening.

it's still the alcohol, and she's there enough to realize that he's right and so she nods.]

Yes, you're right, of course. [hey, he looks good in that crown.] Perhaps... a glass of water, if it's not too much trouble?

[At the end of the day, Crowley will always be a predator, and there's a certain taste that panic has, when it's in the air. He's not about to mention it, but he releases her slowly, moving to grab a fresh bottle of water from the fridge.]

I'll do you one better. [He twists the top off and offers it out.] Little easier to drink from than a glass.

[With a quick miracle, he makes sure the bed has fresh linens and there's an unopened toothbrush sitting by the ensuite's sink.]

Once you're done with that, I'll show you up to bed. I can make you some clothes to sleep in, if you'd like?

[in the morning, she will be horrified by her actions, all of them, but in the moment, she's grateful and that's far more obvious than her momentary panic.

she takes the water with a smile and her genuine surprise shows itself at his offer of clothing. it's been a while since anyone's had anything to do with her clothes; she's always had someone to help her with them, either to dress or undress, or to lace her into her dresses, or to pick her clothing for the day, so his offer touches a melancholy chord and she nods.]

Please, if you don't mind.

[and though she clutches the water bottle close to her chest, out of comfort and necessity, she asks:]

Will you sit with me?

Of course. Bedroom's up this way.

[He won't touch her again without her initiating, but he'll stay close enough that she can reach out if she needs a steadying hand, especially with the flight of stairs to traverse once they're out of the kitchen and through the living room.]

Is a shift alright? Or have you discovered the joys of modern sleepwear?

[Either can be done with the snap of his fingers, so he'll defer to her preference.]

[without the constant adrenaline keeping her going, she's a little dizzy and quickly becoming tired and maybe a little queasy. not enough to actually be ill, but she's certainly more aware of her drinking habit gone wild than she had been a half hour earlier.

up the stairs, she waits for him to motion to a room, a nagging voice telling her that she's taking advantage of his hospitality, but she doesn't say anything about it.

instead, her voice turns lightly incredulous.]

I trust you implicitly, of course -- [despite her earlier panic] -- however I cannot imagine how sleepwear could have changed much over the years.

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