ataraxionlogs | Louder than sirens, louder than bells; closed

CHARACTERS: Odessa Knutson and John Kennex
LOCATION: John's room
WARNINGS: Alcohol. Will update as needed.
SUMMARY: John wants to see Odessa. Odessa obliges.

It might not be the best idea. But here he is, waiting for Odessa to stop by. By now, he's collected himself enough that his appearance is back to what it used to be. He's got just a bit of stubble, his hair is gelled, he's wearing jeans, boots, and a t-shirt, and he smells clean, like soap.

He's miraculously doing better today. No tears, no hoarse voice. Or it could be that he's learned how to put up a front, became a little harder. His priorities have shifted, his manner less tragic than yesterday. Not quite a different man, but not quite the same. The wound was reopened, and there's just no way he's opening himself to anyone for a long time.

And calling Odessa is not about opening up. He's not even really sure what he wants from her. But there was nothing holding him back from contacting her, so he did. He's got the good liquor out, playing with the edge of his glass while he waits for Odessa to come, waiting to partake with her, should she wish to.

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The two of them aren't the sort of acquaintances who get together for idle chatter. Either she's done something to upset him (again), or he actually needs something from her. (God help him.) If he had second thoughts, he could always leave before she arrives, hide in a lounge or something. But Odessa has a knack for getting places much faster than people expect her to, making his window of opportunity slightly more narrow than it might otherwise have been.

She didn't put on her little black dress for this one, opting instead for her (pilfered) simple black shorts and white tank, with her hair pulled up into a ponytail on top of her head. That she's wearing her thigh high boots that conceal her knives is simply because she isn't certain of her safety around him these days. (Not that she doesn't trust him...) The black liner around her eyes and the shade of pink on her lips may just as well be war paint.

She knocks, and she waits.

He's at the door after a few seconds, opening it for her and stepping back so she can get by him.

"Odessa," he says in way of greeting. He shuts the door behind her and heads for the table.

"Gotta be honest. It's nice not to be worried about who I'm friends with."

He sits and settles his gaze on her, a lot calmer and detached than normal. "I broke up with Sally, if you're wondering about your safety."

"John."

Odessa makes her way inside and makes herself immediately at home. It isn't as if it's the first time she's been here. At least this time she isn't busted up. "I'd say I'm sorry, but..." She spreads her hands out on either side of her. Sorry, not sorry.

"But you didn't call me here to talk about it, did you?" That's just not their style. He doesn't seem to have been drinking enough for that to be the case anyway. Her eyes drift to the liquor, quietly expectant.

"Drink?" he offers, pouring them each a glass and holding one of them out for her.

"No. I didn't." His smirk over the edge of his glass says that she's not here for him to whine at. He swallows a bit of his drink, the pause not long between his sentences.

"If we're both being honest here, then, it was probably inevitable. We both were attracted to other people. Her mistake was giving in to the desire."

He takes another thoughtful sip of his drink. "That's what I wanted to talk about. Desires."

"Please." She takes the offered glass and brings it to her lips for a sip while he explains himself. Her eyebrows shoot up when he mentions Sally's mistake. "She cheated on you?" She's actually surprised by that. "With who?" A little gossip never hurt anybody, did it?

And besides, maybe it deflects from where she's pretty sure he's headed next.

Wow and here he thought he was being all suave. He pauses a moment, his eye maybe twitching just a bit. It's definitely not a thing he likes to talk about, but he replies.

"Mhm."

If you can call that a reply. He thinks about it, and what does it matter if she asks Sally about it? Not much. Not like they'll ever be friends again.

"Sirius Black," he informs her with no small amount of distaste in his voice.

He volunteered the information. He can't seriously expect that Odessa of all people would simply let it go at that. She has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing when he reveals who his romantic rival is, but the mirth is in her eyes anyway.

"I'm sorry. But for what it's worth..." For this, Odessa turns her face away, seeming to study the wall of his room, rather than actually invested in this conversation, or what she's about to say. "I think you're better off."

A roll of his eyes, and he's swallowing the rest of his drink.

"Go ahead and laugh."

He lets her pretend she's not invested, but still watching her closely.

"Thanks. Can't imagine you care if I'm better off or not, though."

It's a mean thing to say, especially after the boggart thing. But that's them, isn't it? Constantly hurting each other, playing this bizarre game where no one really wins.

That brings her eyes back to him immediately. She's more obviously invested now, and irritated. She takes another drink.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," she all but snaps. "If you didn't care what I think, you wouldn't have asked to meet at all."

Maybe she deserved that for (nearly) laughing. It's a bit like poking a hornets' nest when he's like this. But it's a thrill to wind him up.

He glares for a second before filling his drink back up and taking a swallow.

"What am I supposed to think Odessa? Am I just a toy to you, or am I your friend?"

He sips at his drink before holding a hand up.

"Don't answer that. I'm pretty sure I already know."

He's still not being fair, but it feels great to get this angry energy out.

"Why not both, John?" There's a grin to her words that shows in her eyes, but not on her lips. But then... Then there's that vulnerability he's come to see in her more and more. "Since that first run-in," in the gardens, where she tried to murder him (no big deal), "have I lied to you?"

That's rhetorical. He can certainly posit that she has, and he'd probably be correct, but the implication here is that she hasn't lied to him about anything important. "I don't know how to just be friends with someone. None of this is familiar to me." She means the situation presented by the Tranquility. She's certainly not alone in that, but taking that at face value isn't precisely what she means. "I don't know what we are. What this is."

He holds his drink close to his lips, about to drink, but listening closely to her words. His face seems to get harder at her vulnerability, but he's paying more attention, and he's not mouthing off anymore. His jaw tightens, and takes a swallow of his drink, just to stall so he has time to think.

"I don't either. Don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore."

He seems older at his words, his free hand rubbing at his forehead. This was supposed to be about bad decisions, about self destruction, not thinking or feeling.

Odessa takes a long drink from her glass. It burns going down, and in the best way. "I don't think anyone here knows what they're doing anymore. This place makes us all a little crazy." She sets her glass aside and closes the distance between them, resting one of her hands on the side of his face. Her thumb caresses over his cheekbone, then drags over his mouth lightly.

"Tell me what you need from me." She watches his eyes intently. "I don't know why... but I want to make you stop hurting."

Louder than sirens, louder than bells; closed

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