laytondressing | 'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius

[Sitting down in a chair, he gives an incredulous smile.]

Is he just as obnoxious and irritating in your world? Did you sleep with him?

In my defence, copious amounts of alcohol were ingested beforehand.

It was in this place. He seemed surprised to find that I was a woman, and also to develop a rather instantaneous crush on me when he discovered. I suppose that desperation will do that.

[Leaning her head on her hand, she stares off into space a moment before glancing back at him.]

Truth be told, I feel bad for the man. I'm afraid that I make something of a jumpy bedmate, nowadays, and I'm sure I did wonders for his self-esteem.

[Descole crossed his legs and leans his head in hisbhand as well. He sighed outwards.]

I suppose I'm the same way. You get that way when...well you know the unfortunate story.

[He sighs again thinking of his stepfather and then he shakes his head trying to get that image out of his mind. He hopes he can kill that man before he dies off.]

Well, that must have been a bad headache in the morning.

Quite, to both. I'm rather unaccustomed to drinking, and... well, I was more accustomed to sex before, but less so nowadays.

I suppose it would have been worse for me had I allowed him to stay the night. Evidently, even while drunk I had the forethought to throw him out, so at least the mortification of the next morning was conducted alone.

[She supposes that Luke might have heard her, but given that he made no appearance she rather hopes that she didn't disturb him. Watching her double, Descole lets out a faint sigh of her own. It's been too long since she's been able to speak to someone openly, like this, and even when she is it's only a different version of herself. Does that even count? She can't quite decide, really.]

In your words, does accustomed, mean used too it? Because if it does, I understand that, completely. I was quite accustomed to it. Until my own traumatic event came too haunt me again.

[Well, it did happen again, only a little different. He hated that he was remembering it.]

The last time I was drunk, I think I fell and hit mt head really hard. After picking someone up at a bar of course. Wasn't a good night.

Yes, used to it. Drinking isn't something I've do often, and sex is a rather rare experience nowadays, too.

[She snorts, just a little, and smirks at him.]

Tell me, was it Don Paulo that you picked up? Because I'm afraid I don't think you can do much worse than that. Though, it might have been a better night if I had hit my head, because at least then I might not remember both the decision I made in the first place and the utter shambles I made of the act itself.

[Groaning, she leans her head back against the back of the chair.]

I think it might have been the most mortifying experience of my life, you know. I'd be interested to know whether you've ever done anything quite so embarrassing, double.

Yes, I was quite accustomed too it as well. Not lately though. Again, we know how that story goes.

Oh no, I didn't pick up Don Paolo. No, it wasn't one anyone would know. I have their number though. It didn't even phase me to call.

[He smirks when she asks her. Something embarrassing...it's harder than he would imagine to think of something.]

My first kiss was with a man. Is that embarrassing enough?

You see, the Hershel in my time, I hate it say it, a nice man. A gentleman, really. We were best friends when we were little and I just kissed him. I don't even remember why, but I remember him being really puzzled.

Is kissing someone of your own gender embarrassing enough to compare with Don Paulo? Hardly, double. Besides, I've kissed girls. I've kissed Layton, for that matter, so I think it rather matches up.

[She considers.]

I'm not sure I can even remember my own first kiss...

Well, I don't know, double, many people could say otherwise. I'm glad you don't.

[He actually has kissed men more frequently then he wants to admit, but he doesn't really want to explain his oversexed exploits. Besides, there were too many of them.]

God, I had to be seven. My stepfather caught me though, and he punished me for it.

[Oh, there's that wretched man.]

Well, I've been rather liberal in my own affections, in the past. Men, women... it's never mattered to me, if I'm honest.

[She frowns a little, watching her double.]

Your stepfather... I suppose I should be glad that I don't remember my parents.

Well I can understand that I guess. For me it's an acceptance I guess.

[He smirks again more melancholically this time.]

I wouldn't say that, my mother is a wonderful woman...so is the man she's married to right now. Just, her second husband was a terrible person. I don't know. I think I'm done dealing with him.

[Or he hoped. The truth was, he wasn't sure.]

Well... I don't think that I could have handled what you went through and what Layton did to me, so... I suppose that it's for the best.

[Pulling her legs up to her chest, Descole leans her chin on her knees. Truth be told, she hasn't really thought about her parents in a long time. Not having them seemed unimportant after a while. She'd been well enough without them, in her own mind, and the fact that she'd had nobody after what Layton did to her had been... easier for her, because it allowed her to just draw into herself, and that had been what she'd wanted.]

...come. I've had enough of being depressed tonight, double, so if we're going to be talking of such things then at least allow me to fetch you a stronger drink than tea.

I don't think that's a good idea...eh, what the hell. Yeah, hit me.

[He knows alcohol can be a vice to him. His stepfather taught him that. That alcoholic probably ruined his life, but for some reason, he could never turn it down. This could only end in disaster. Especially because he has a habit of telling secrets when drunk.]

This shall be an interesting night.

I'm made of bad ideas, you'll see.

[Moving to the mini-fridge, Descole pulls out a selection of drinks to bring back to the table, then drops back down in her chair.]

Take your pick, double, the fridge seems to restock itself anyway.

[She smirks, shifting to sit side-on in the chair with her legs dangling over the arm.]

[Smirking at the drinks on the table, he nods.]

Double, you have to be me, because you're speaking my language.

[He pours himself some brandy, and drinks eagerly.]

So, you share drinks with people around here often?

[Laughing aloud at that, Descole takes a long swig of her own drink.]

Not at all, really. And after the last time, I really ought to refrain from drinking in company, if I'm honest.

Nonetheless, here we are.

I should be too. I always end up losing guard.

[Descole shrugs at his own comment and drinks the rest of his brandy. Then of course, he pours himself another glass. Should he even be sitting here and drinking with this suspicious woman? He's not sure how to answer his own question, but at a time like this, Alcohol tasted like candy.]

[With a smirk.] So anything depressing you want to talk about?

I don't think one's guard can be any more dropped than sleeping with Don Paulo, no?

[Returning the smirk, Descole hums faintly to herself. She's got no qualms about drinking with her double, honestly, besides the little voice in her head telling her that she probably ought to refrain from sleeping with this one, if only because it would undoubtedly be evidence of dangerous levels of narcissism.]

Well... current etiquette in this place suggests I ought to take my mask off, I suppose. My face is rather depressing at this point, you see.

[Descole smirks at her suggestion. He suddenly gets it.]

Oh, I see, this is some trap? You think, if you take your mask off, I'll remove mine, and Scotland Yard will have a field day, no?

Well, sorry Double, I don't trust anyone.

[Not even the ones closest to him could he trust. How could he trust a woman who claims to be his double when he still wasn't sure about this whole situation. He didn't mean to be rude, but he isn't in his right mind.]

Perhaps I'll show you after a few drinks?

[Descole laughs, setting down her drink so that she can reach up to pull her mask off, momentarily touching at the scarring where her left eye had been.]

I assure you, double, there's no need for you to feel pressured to remove your mask. I'm sure I can imagine your face, more-or-less, and I certainly understand the lack of trust. I rather find that I'm more comfortable without my own, though, at this point. I'm aware, however, that my face is rather depressing, or at the very least disturbing, and that is why it remains most of the time.

[Perfectly calm, she sets the mask down on the table, refilling her glass and then returning that to her hand instead.]

Of course, if you find that the sight offends you at any point, I'll be happy enough to put the mask back in place.

[Feeling slightly guilty, he took another long swig of his drink and gave a sincere smile.]

You're still pretty without it.

[A compliment. That wasn't something he'd done in a while. It would be a lie if he said it didn't feel good. And he meant it. A missing scarred up eye wasn't enough to through off someones looks in his opinion. Then again, he was slightly biased and felt slightly narcissistic]

I'm not. There's nothing special behind this, it simply just hides my eyes. Yet still, no one knows who I am. Or I hope so.

[The real person he had to blame for that was the same man, he still didn't know Jean Descole. Thank god.]

...yes. Well.

[She hasn't received compliments in a while, either. Not since... Well, even before the incident with Layton she'd hardly received compliments for her looks, always hiding her face behind the mask and her figure beneath the cloak. And the compliments she'd received during that time... they hadn't been for her at all, had they? They'd been Layton admiring his own work, admiring what he'd done to her, rather than actually admiring her.

Shaking her head slightly, Descole drops her gaze down to her glass.]

Flattery will get you nowhere, double, particularly when the compliment has such an obvious hint of narcissism in it.

[Her expression twists into a nervous smile; the compliment has left her wrong-footed, and in the wake of that, her sarcasm is falling flat. To be told that she's pretty despite the wounds is... it's not something that she'd ever expected to hear. Don Paulo's response, the little Luke's response, those had been the sort of reactions that seemed natural to her. Shock. Disgust. Even that Layton, because like her own he'd been admiring the wounds themselves. That other Luke had shaken her as well, by ignoring the scars, but not nearly as much as her double has done with that one sentence.]

[Descole gives her a smile and shrugs.]

Narcissism maybe. But you're still pretty and so am I. Trust me, that's a better trait for a woman. You're certainly more attractive then I. Those who care too much about scars don't know the feeling of being stared at in disgust because they look difference.

[He lifted his pants leg, showing a skinny limb with scars all up and down. He shook his head.]

I have them everywhere. The last person who saw them...the last person told me they would help me get back at the person who did it. I wouldn't let them.

...I have them everywhere as well, double, and Layton's name scarred across my chest, for that matter.

[She shakes her head again, sipping at her drink with a sigh.]

Sorry. I'm being a bitch, aren't I? I can understand that, though. Not letting another get back at the person who scarred you, that is. I wouldn't let another have Layton. If he is felled it will be at my hands... if anyone beats me to it, I don't think I'd even hesitate to hurt them in turn. I won't have my revenge stolen from me, after all, and anyone who thought they had the right would pay for that.

[Descole downs the rest of her drink, then, leaning over to refill it again.]

...I certainly think you're attractive enough, double, even if by my own admission that's only narcissism speaking. Prettiness in men has always been something that appeals to me, though, if I'm honest.

[Descole finishes off his drink and pours himself another glass. He sips it and then can't help but let out a laugh.]

We're so narcissistic.

[Letting his smile fade he breaths out in shakes his head.]

I will kill that man. That man who made me who I am today. I didn't want to be this. When I was a small boy, I was going to be a professional ballet dancer, and a professional musician. I was going to write symphonies and operas...

No, he told me all my childhood, I wasn't good enough I was only good--

...well, again, we both know how this story goes. Jeez, you give me two glasses of brandy and I start giving you my life story. I'm sorry if I'm being depressing. You're not bothering me at all.

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