laytondressing | 'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius

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.

I don't mind hearing it, double. I find it interesting to hear, and as we've established you're certainly not displeasing to look at, either. Definitely an improvement on my last drinking partner, especially as you're not trying to get me into bed.

[She flashes him a smirk.]

I wish you luck with your all your murderous endeavours, as well. I wish you luck in any attempts to accomplish those other goals of yours. You have all the time in the world to work on such things, after all, stuck in this place. You should write an opera, double. Perhaps we could write one together, in fact. It could be about narcissism.

[Descole titters a little at her own joke. She wasn't lying when she said that she was unaccustomed to alcohol.]

[Descole finds himself laughing at her last comment and sips his drink again before he responds.]

Well thanks for the luck. My stepfather is like a cockroach. I've tried to kill him so many times. Not to mention Layton is in the way as well.

[He sighs and shakes his head.]

Anyway...I wish you well on your revenge too.

[He guzzled down his drink and poured another.]

Layton is a damnable man in every world, then.

[Following his example, Descole downs her own drink in one, although leaning over to refill it seems much more complex than the last time. She just about manages it without falling out of her chair, though, and seats herself more securely once she has a full glass.]

I suppose it's easier for me, then, as the problems of 'Hershel Layton' and 'everything that is wrong with my life' are one and the same in my world. It's unfortunate that you don't have the same ease in your own life. Although for all of that it's not as if Layton is exactly easy to kill.

Still. He's not here, so there's that. I don't know what I'd do if he was. Lock myself in here with you, Luke and this place's fine alcohol selection, I suppose.

[Descole laughs again. He's becoming increasingly drunk and laughing a lot more.]

Well he's bad, but in my place, he's a nice man. But I want to kill him sometimes. Usually, I just want to push him away, but ugh, I dunno.

He's not like my stepfather. That man blamed me for every fault in his life. He blamed me foe the fault in he and my moms relationship. He beat me, and raped and this was daily. I will kill him.

[He shook his head and took another swig.]

But you know how that goes.

Yes... with Layton, I suppose at least it was only three days. Well. He said it was three days, but it certainly felt like longer.

[Descole contemplates her drink in silence for a moment, then glances back at her double.]

As I said, I'm almost glad to not remember my own parents. I don't really remember any of my childhood, for that matter. You say your first kiss was with Layton, at nine? Perhaps it could have been the same in my own world, and I simply don't remember.

[Chuckling a little, she raises her drink to her mouth, managing to slop some of it over the rim of the glass to splash on her boa in the process. She doesn't seem to notice, though.]

How interesting that would have been, for Layton to be my first kiss. I wonder if he would have still been shorter than me at that age?

[Descole finishes his drink and slams it down on the table dramatically. He laughs at his own action and cuddles into his chair more, putting his legs up on the cushion of the chair.]

[He laughs louder at her words.]

I think I was shorter than him as a child. Actually, I was pretty short, that's why I got a lot of professional spots, I was short enough. Then, of course, I shot up. I think that's typical for men, I don't know about women.

[Considering he had never been around women that much. His life.]

No, I'm kinda glad I remember my parents. I like memories for the most part. I like to think it makes me stronger. I mean I hate remembering, but I like having them. Does that make sense?

I don't know I think I've drunk to much.

[And he pours himself another glass, giggling again.]

I understand you perfectly. You think you've drunk too much, though? I don't understand that part. How can you drink too much? I think that there's only the right amount, or perhaps too little.

[Descole snorts, sipping at her drink and lounging back in her chair.]

I think I ought to make this sort of thing a more regular occurrence, too. Drunkenness suits you, double. Or perhaps it's suiting me, and that's why you look so pretty right now. Well. I only have one eye, and I'm drunk, aren't I? So m'hardly the best judge of looks right now. Especially with the narc-- narcisssss...

You know what I mean.

[She titters drunkenly, draining her glass so that she can sit forward without spilling any. Setting it down on the table, she reaches up to pull her boa off, without the presence of mind to remember that she's baring the scars around her throat in the process.]

It's hot in here. Isn't it? Or perhaps it's just me.

[Descole, giggling at her drunken state and her use of the world "narcissism", he poured himself another drink.]

You are so drunk. I think I am too, because yeah, the narcissism is getting to me too. You're so pretty. Damn, I wish I wasn't pretty and I was handsome. My stupid stepfather used to call me pretty, well when he was pleased with me. When he wasn't he called me the opposite and he had this thing with calling me overweight. I wonder what his problem was. Well whatever. That was...pfft...years ago. Hm...I'm rambling. I'm drunk.

[He watched her remove the boa and noticed the scars. He cocked his head to the side and wondered if he should ask about them, but then decided not too. In his drunken state, he removed his muffler as well and took his hat off. He ran his fingers through his long brown hair and smiled crookedly.]

Yup. It's hot. 'Ey, what's your hair color?

I like pretty men, double. And you're certainly pretty. I like that. And the drunk part. I think I like that, too.

[Watching him, Descole reaches up to take her own hat off, too. Her hair is brown, like his, but quite short and fluffy.]

You have hair like a girl, double. I like that as well. Well, I like men and women, so I s'pose it makes sense to like my men feminine.

[Grinning, she pulls her suit jacket off, as well. At the moment, it seems like a good idea to see how far he'll follow her in this.]

Stop complimenting me, I'm not that pretty. It's the mask. You are pretty with out it.

[He shakes his head and laughs. Taking another long swig he sighs.]

Seriously, how many more clothes are you going to take off? Jeez, you *are* me!

[Following her, he takes off the jacket. Exposing his slim arms and torso, he playfully flings the piece of clothes at his double with a smile. He found himself liking her, and trusting her in a mix of alcohol and grief. How could he not? She was his double.]

So, you sleep with both genders? [He rests his head in his hand and raises an eyebrow.] So, you must have had a lot of sex before Layton, huh? Me too. Hm...did you ever get picked on for that? M'friends used to pick on me a lot. Hershel and...and those guys.

[Still grinning, she catches his jacket, pulling her tie off a moment later and then toying with the buttons of her shirt, though she doesn't move to actually unfasten them. Yet.]

Perhaps. I don't really remember that, either. Well. I remember having sex. A lot of it, yes. I don't really remember having friends. Boyfriends, though. And girlfriends. Liked the boyfriends better in bed. But the girls were usually more fun to be around.

You're fun to be around though, double. Maybe because you're me, and-- and...

[Descole frowns a little, trying to remember what her point is. Had she had one? She's sure that she had... ah!]

And, well. Maybe I'll take all of them off. Clothes, that is.

[Descole laughs and shrugs.]

Yes, I remember all that. I had lots of bedmates. A couple companions. You know. All that jazz.

[He gets silent as he sits up in the chair.]

Hey can I tell you a secret? Heh, don't tell anyone this, but I've been with more men than women. Shh...the only people who know that are my friends and my butler. You must be special double.

[He finishes off the glass and looks down as a face of realization shows.]

Perhaps I shpuldt have told you that. That's supposed to be a secret. [Slurring and looking down he shakes his head.] We might be better off taking off our clothes.

[He laughs at his words and pours yet another drink. How many is he on? Descole doesn't know, but doesn't care.]

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