laytondressing | 'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius

[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.]

Of course you should have told me. And of course I'm special. I'm you, right?

[Descole grins again, unfastening the top button of her shirt.]

I will if you will, double. Then it won't matter if I spill my drink. I think I'm a bit shaky. Drunk. Same thing, really. I'll take my clothes off and then if I spill my drink you can just lick it off me.

[Laughing, she reaches over to refill her own glass, retrieving it from the table and gulping down a large amount in one go.]

What am I saying? You should shut me up, double, I'm going to embarrass myself.

[Descole begins laughing at her and shakes his head. The laughing begins to get more uncontrollable.]

I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. [He snickers.] Oh god, what's wrong with me?

I'm only laughing for the narcissism factor. Wow, this is ridiculous. I'm sorry. I probably seem like a bastard, don' I?

[He drinks more and leans his head against the chair.]

[Descole laughs as well, descending into helpless giggles after a moment.]

It's fine. It's fine. Told you I'd embarrass myself.

[Finishing what's left of her drink, she leans forward to the table, and this time manages to fall off her chair. She stares up at her double for a moment, then bursts out laughing again.]

[Descole, also can't help but to laugh, considering the situation. As he stands up to help her, he ends up stumbling and ends up sitting on the ground next to her.]

Wow, that didn't work like I'd planned.

[Instead of trying to get back up, he stays next to her on the floor, and leans his head and his arm on the table.]

Y'know. At first I was anxious being here. No, worried. But now, actually seeing what's around, I'm starting to wonder if this place is better than the place I call home. Sure, I miss my butler and my little brother, and Bradley, but it's so much nicer here.

[Her giggles dying down a little, Descole moves to lean her head against her double's shoulder.]

I agree, double. I... I don't feel safe here but I feel safer, you know?

[She bites her lip, thinking about it for a moment.]

You have a brother? And who is Bradley?

[Descole sighs and shakes his head.]

Oh, no one. And yeah, I have a half brother he's like 8 years younger than me. His name is Simon.

[He shakes his head, he hates how talkative he gets when he drinks.]

Life's okay over there, but I feel safer right now. Maybe cause I'm drunk.

[Nodding, Descole thinks about it for a moment. She supposes a sibling would be nice enough, although it would have meant a barrier to her disappearing and drawing in on herself after what Layton did to her. Would that have been helpful, having a reason to let someone else in? No, she thinks, but perhaps she'd think differently if she'd had something like that at the time. There's no way of knowing, really. She shakes her head, letting her eye slide shut and grinning again.]

Maybe you just feel safer because I make such an imposing bodyguard, did you consider that?

[Descole laughs at her words.]

Hmm, maybe. I didn't think of that.

[He sighs and shakes his head. Thinking about his baby brother, he was such a good kid. He hated how Jerome made him. How will Simon hold up without Jean? Well, Bradley was there, and he'll take care of his brother.]

I think my brother will be okay. He's got people to look after him, right? Of course right.

[Descole shrugs.]

If he's got people to look after him I don't see why he'd have any trouble.

...sorry. I'm bad at this. I'm bad at people.

[She's never really had the opportunity to be good at dealing with people, to be honest. And she's never really wanted to deal with them, as long as she can remember. People are so unpredictable, and she hates not being able to predict things.]

[Descole nods, understands where she's coming from.]

I get that. Me too. Both Simon and Bradley always scold me for that. Hershel, who, I hardly consider my friend anymore, had been used to it.

[He shrugs back and leans his head against hers. He feels kind of safe for the first time, and he likes this.]

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