01 Feb 2010 : Late Night Visitor
Late Night Visitor
Summary: Haven gets a little too friendly with tequila, then knocks on the Preacher's door to discuss recent rumors.
Date: 01 Feb 2010
Related Logs: Spin & Win & Bitch & Boxing Up Lucy

Blue Earth, Church Grounds, Parsonage
Mon Feb 01 19:58:16 2010

This plain white washed building is the current residence of one Rev. Laughing Dog, and the decor shows it. Split into three rooms, the Living room/study holds a big comfy brouwn couch with a blanket thrown over the back, right in front of an older looking TV. To wards the right of that, by a window sits a writing desk and a few cases of books. Along the back wall a tiny fireplace holds council with a shotgun held over the top by a gun wrack. In the back a small and spartan bedroom and bathroom is basically kept away from prying eyes, where as his tiny kitchen looks like it could need a woman's touch. Needless to say, this is a male's residence.

Night has fallen outside, and the town is mostly quiet, aside from a little ruckus, now and then waaaaay down at the other side of Main Street. Most of the decent townsfolk have turned in for the night, but there's the sound of boots approaching otuside, then thunking up the porch of the parsonage, thunk-thunk thunk-thunk, followed by a bang, bang, bang of the side of a fist against the door. It's a knock that means business.

Give it enough time and one might think that someone woke the dead, as the wind blows through the branches and perhaps the fact no lights turn on. Still the person on the other end of the door is allowed to wait a few more minutes, and perhaps a few more bangs, before the door opens on the other end, and Haven's not met with a tired face- ora candle. There's clearly a gun barrel aimed out before the tired face comes with it. Eyes looking back to Haven, Judah squints once, and then twice. "What do you want?"

A gun barrel in the face. Oddly, Haven can roll with that. The smell of tequila shoots hangs around her like a perfume. She might be a little drunk. There might be some lime still under her fingernails. "Get your gun out of my face." And then she starts inside, hands resting on the doorjamb, body leaning in first. Her hair is in her eyes, and she smells a little like stale air, too.

"Quit banging on my door, then." Judah replies, before he's lowering the sawed off from Haven's face. There's a faint brow raised before he's stepping back into the darkness. "Come on in pup.." though it seems she's already invited herself in. Unlike the woman, Judah smells of whisky, and is wearing only boxers…and a robe "Shut th' door it's cold."

"Stop calling me that, asshole." Haven's a charming drunk, yes, she is. The black haired woman kicks the door closed behind her, cowboy boot probably leaving a scuff on the door. If she notices the rather informal attire, she doesn't mention it. "I heard you had some shit to say about me around town," she notes, stalking inside in the dark. She kicks the edge of a rug or a shoe, and grouses something before she half sprawls, half throws herself down on the couch.

Judah looks back over his shoulder as the pump action is slid right up onto the fireplace. "Huh?" Asked back as one eyebrow is raised back towards the woman. A groan and one hand's rummaging through his hair. "Who said I was saying shit about you?" The only person he remembers going over the normal gossip was Benny. Oh Christ, what did the telephone gang turn it to?

"Somebody said you were telling the whole fuckin' town I — this couch," she begins, before sitting up, then swapping directions on it. "Is uncomfortable." She feels around for a pillow, then gives up, uses her arm, and puts her dirty boots right on the other end of it. "Do you have any idea. Any idea, Tonto, what happens when a preacher opens his yap?"

"Make sure there's not a bottle under the cushion. She likes to hide shit." The preacher grumps out before he's moving for a small chair, and camping his ass down in a very ungentlemanly like manner. "I am telling the whole fucking town, what?" Asked again as eyes go over to her boots, and there's a faint tightening of his jaw, but he's not budging more from there.

Haven scowls, her dark brows drawing together slightly as her lips purse into a little annoyed pout. She shoves a hand under the couch, though she really doesn't know why she's bothering. "Who hides shit? Are you listening to me? You can't talk to people about me. I just got her. I can't leave. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Preachers don't behave the way you behave." She finally shoots a look at him, and takes stock of what he's wearing, visibly. The moment she realizes he's camping out in a robe in boxers, her expression goes from annoyed to puzzled.

"Maggie." And then there's a pause before he's shaking his head "Never mind." No one would even seem to believe him, specially in this state if Judah was to tell her. "I am listening to you. What am I accused of saying?" forget the fact she called Tonto, and such earlier. He's still at least trying to get to the bottom of this. "And actually, I can talk about you if I want to, because I am a person. And you know-there's no rule against that. As for how do I behave, that's tween me, an god. And the congregation if they want to boot my ass out." A shrug there. "So far, they haven't. And I doubt they will."

Maggie. Maggie seems to be a good enough answer for the EMT for the moment. Apparently her raging rudeness at showing up in the middle of the night, drunk, then barging in, does actually set a limit for the amount of unwarranted personal questions she can ask at once. "They're just desperate." Haven has the good grace to sit up then, and kick her boots off of the couch. She might leave a little dry mud smear on one end. She kicks back, sulking in one corner. "This seemed like a better idea before. Were you just being a dick before cos you don't like Vargas?"

Silent for a moment, and then he's shaking his head. "So you came to my house because someone said something, and you can't even remember what I said?" or was reported saying. Judah just groans and rubs his hand along his forehead, before eyes are looking to the couch for a second. "WHose idea was it. Yours or the tequila?" as for not liking Vargas…"Yup." and with that he's leaning in his chair. "Smells funny."

Haven slouches at one end of the couch, rumpled and smelling of the bar. Her tee rides up one hip a little, showing off dusky skin, no tan lines, underneath. What she does have is a sizable bruise across her hip, like maybe she had a run in with a stationary object recently. "He smells funny? That's your big excuse for being a giant cock?" She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, mutters, "Jesus Christ." And then sinks a little lower in the couch. "… Tequila started it."

Judah looks for a moment as he looks back towards Haven, and there's a raised brow towards her hip, and a shift of his jaw, before he's pointing. "How'd you get that?" Might as well ask. See what he can indeed find out. "He's in my..You know what?" A shake of his head "I thought you would understand. Never mind." And with that he's moving to the small kitchen. "Don't say his name like that in my house, okay?" A look over his shoulder, before he's opening the fridge for something.

It's apparent she's not used to dealing with priests or hanging out in church-adjoining buildings, because it takes Haven a full twenty seconds of scowling to figure out why Judah doesn't want her saying Vargas' name in his house. Oh, but then the light kicks on like someone smacked her upside the head. "… Sorry." She pulls her shirt up, and glances down at her hip. "I fell down the stairs and then I walked into a tombstone earlier. It was probably the tombstone, because it was only a couple stairs. I'm a little drunk, so I'm gonna bruise easier. S'fine." Her hands remain tangled in her shirt, just under her ribs. She grunts, then reaches back to drag the blanket off the back of the couch, and tug it over her shoulders.

"Did you creep through the graveyard?" Oh God, please don't let her have done anything hasty back there. He's already had to chase teenagers out for stupid dares…now all he needs is drunken violence on that poor cemetery. Judah takes a pause to pull out a bottle of water and toss it onto the couch where Haven is laying, before he's shutting the door. "You shouldn't." whatever that means.

"Please. I walk through graveyards all the time." Haven's voice gives nothing away. She could have performed some acts of vandalism. "Hey, watch the hair." She grouses, but reaches for the bottle nonetheless. She cracks it open, and tips it, sucking down at least half before she pauses to breathe. "… I shouldn't do a lot of things." She lifts a hand and gestures, "No mas, no mas, no mas." There's a shrug, then she mutters, "No es possible. Pero, que se la va a hacer."

"I am going to tell you something. I don't speak spanish. I don't like spanish, and that's more cultural than anything else." Judah says as he shifts and leans against the fridge for a moment. "So all I know what you said, is Dog, and not possible." A shrug added before he's coming to peer back over the couch. A subtle sniff. "So why were you drinking tequila?"

"No. Perro is dog. Pero is but." There's a subtle difference between the two, one is just a slightly longer 'r' roll. "Perrrro," she says again, demonstrating. "Dice… er. I said it's not possible, but what are you gonna do." She lifts a hand and rubs it over her forehead, then back through her hair. "You should learn. It's a beautiful — my roommate sings like a cow being roasted alive on a spit, and the creepy house I live in creaks all night long, and I can't get out of this shithole. I think I might really be stuck, so I decided to paint the creepy house, and going through Lucy's shit is just depressing. Tequila usually makes me feel better, but then I walked past the church." And knifed a tire. She does not say that part.

"Ah." said softly as Judah falls silent for a moment. Eyes looking to the woman there, as a brow raises. "I didn't realize anyone lived up there with you. As for that house…Bad land. You'll never find good land out where you live, sad. Europeans ruined it something fierce." As his family has always called it. Still he's pushing off from the couch and begins to stalk back towards his bedroom. "Well if you need help, I can offer some company. I did her funeral.." and silence. "I dunno. "

"No one did. I just moved in. An' then Mia came home from Vegas to move back in. What am I gonna do, say sorry your adoptive tia esta muerta, fuck off and join the circus." Haven scowls, then sucks down the rest of the water bottle, tipping it up to slosh the water around inside. "… Ugh." She shoves off the couch, more or less steadily, and stalks into the kitchen, boots rapping heavily on the floor, to find the recycling or trash. Whichever she comes to first. Do they even recycle in little podunk towns? "Stop being all… reasonable. It's throwing me off." She might have to feel guilty about petty vandalism now. "I have to pee, where's your Head?"

"That would explain it. I remember when.." well the kids got the fuck out of dodge does feel appropriate. There's a shake of his head, as Judah doesn't finish, before he's pointing back to his bedroom. "Through there, on the right. If you hear sobbing. Just…don't look in the mirror, alright?" Odd enough request. And with that he's moving to sit on the edge of his bed and shrug out of his robe. "I never said I wasn't an asshole. However I am not reasonable either. Sorry. Two edged knife there."

Haven is already about half way back to the bathroom before what he said just sort of seeps into her tequila soaked brain. "What?" She turns half around, and almost walks into the doorway, just glancing it with her shoulder. "Fuck." Ow. "… Fuck." She glances over as she wanders by, both because she can and because he's standing there. "Nice ass." She walks into the bathroom, and kicks the door partly closed. Ziiiip. Jeans aren't difficult to navigate, even while drink. She's silent in there for a moment, then the obvious tinkle occurs. "… I don't even know what you just said."

"Thanks.." muttered as he's crawling back into his bed. "You can stay on the couch.." that's all he's getting out before he's pulling up his blankets, and begins the process of falling asleep again. With the exception of a few soft snores from Judah, Haven might notice the eeriely smooth silence that settles in…And the faint feeling of being watched.

Haven takes a while to notice anything. She gnaws on a thumbnail absently, feet tapping while she sits there. After a moment, she reaches over for some TP, and does her womanly business. "At least the toilet seat wasn't cold." She stands, leans down to flush with the heel of her hand, then heads over to the sink to wash up. She glances up into the mirror partway through this process.

What she might glimpse is a small face looking back. Definitely spanish, and possibly a nun. But, the question that demands answering, is that did she really see something, or was it the worm talking to her brain? The only one who can answer that is Haven, as Judah is passed right the fuck out.

"Did you go to sleep?" That's a first. A guy going to sleep when she comes over. Her eyes find the mirror, and the face looking back at her, which isn't quite her own. "I must be drun — huwhathefuck." Haven jumps backward, and falls over the toilet hard enough to rattle the plumbing. There's a scramble of boots on the floor, and she busts out of the bathroom, careening through the little house. Fleeeee.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License