laytondressing | (no subject)

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[Bradley walks into the Dressing Room, completely confused of his surroundings. He was supposed to be walking back to Jean's house, but he found himself in an unfamiliar lobby. He's holding a black and white round ball under his arm, as he was just finishing up a small football game with his friends. He did not expect to be in such a place.]

Wha--

What is this? Is this some sort of joke?

[ooc: we need more OC's. I got convinced to throw my OC out there. OC's are fun.]

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[Descole nods;] I never come up with my schemes sober. They generally tend to work...until some puzzle prick ruins them...

[Bradley shakes his head.]

See, me may always come up with the plans, he needs me, the sober mind, to perfect them.

Ahh, so you're what I was missing in my world? How very inconsiderate of you, not existing or at least not finding me there.

[She snorts a bit to herself, moving to refill her glass and emptying the bottle in the process.]

Perhaps you just haven't met me yet. Whoa, maybe I'm a woman in your world. Oh damn, it may be the alcohol but you blew my mind.

(OOC: Aw, that's a cute image. Fem Jean with a similar love. Aw.)

Mmm... though so far everyone else in my world seems to match up with the average version of them, gender-wise. So it's probably more likely that you'd still be a man back home, if you exist.

[She shrugs and sits back down, making sure to put her legs over Bradley's as well as her double's this time.]

Well perhaps there's one of me where you are. Maybe it's just a matter of time.

[At this point, Bradley begins lightly drumming on her legs that were strewn over him.]

[Descole glances down, watching his hand.]

...what are you doing?

[He moves his hands away and shrugs.]

I have no idea. It's an automatic things my hands do. They never know what to do with themselves so they start drumming.

[Descole laughs;] You should take up smoking. There's something.

[Descole shrugs a bit herself.]

You don't have to stop, it doesn't bother me. I just wondered. And, hmm, I wonder if the place would supply me with something like that, given its record with alcohol.

Eh, I need to stop. It's a nervous habit. I do it with my finger tips on things too, people say that one is more annoying.

This place doesn't like to encourage addictions, huh? Or at least, it seems that way.

Well, I don't know, really. I mean... it only stopped giving me alcohol after I'd thought myself that I ought to stop drinking. It seems happy enough to let you develop addictions in the first place.

[Considering it, she steps and moves over to the drawer, returning moments later with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She sits back down and contemplates it.]

Hmm, see? So long as you don't feel bad about it, the place doesn't care.

That seems...benevolent.

[He crosses his legs on the bed, Indian style, and bits his bottom lip thinking.]

I'm supposed to teach tomorrow. But...if you said you've been here a while, and I only missed you for a couple hours, after I left, does that mean that this place doesn't take up any time from where you're from?

Does that make sense?

[Descole raises an eyebrow;] We don't know anything. You're basically like asking a brick wall right now. I wish we could help, but we know next to nothing.

Well... it doesn't make sense, not really, but then what does about this place? So I suppose it's perfectly likely that time doesn't pass. I don't see why not.

[She shrugs, pulling out one of the cigarettes and eyeing it.]

...would either of you like to join me, if I take this place up on its generous gift?

[Bradley sighs.]

I've been trying to quit for the sake of my job, but this is one if those cigarette moments.

[Descole laughs and shakes his head no. The last thing he needs is another addiction hazardous to his fragile health.]

[Chuckling, she pulls out another cigarette and passes it over, lighting her own and then passing the lighter as well.]

I'm probably going to end up choking, I'll admit. Oh, well. Less embarrassing than what I can get up to when I'm drunk.

[Bradley laughs, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag.]

I am so embarrassing when I'm drunk, too. The last time I was drunk, I was with my parents and I made my dad practice Ballet with me. My father is a six, four, two-hundred pound man. You can imagine how silly that looked. And I MADE him dance, this wasn't any of his choice. I woke up thinking, "oh my poor father..."

[Descole finds himself laughing at the incident and shaking his head. Of course, it's funnier to him because he knew Mr. Cryptsell;] Why wasn't I there?

[Bradley snickered.]

My parents didn't know you yet! [He turns to his double.] What's your worse, if you don't mind me asking?

[Descole chuckles a bit and takes a drag of her own cigarette, which she promptly chokes on. Once she's stopped coughing, though, she smirks and glances at her double for a moment before looking back at Bradley.]

I slept with a man named Don Paolo. I'm not sure if you know him. Suffice to say, it's not a choice in bedmates I would have made while sober. In fact, I'm pretty sure I had to stop at one point to continue drinking. Which probably should have been my sign to stop what I was doing, right? But, no, I slept with him, and I think he thinks we're going to be married or something. It would be the most awful wedding if we were.

[Descole can't help but laugh at her choking on the smoke. When she glances at him, he promptly stops.]

[Bradley laughs at her story.]

Oh yeah, I know that guy. The weird one...you slept with him? Yeah, it's never good when you have to stop in the middle of sex to keep drinking. That's a big problem.

[Descole snickers.] I dunno, I've been in some people's beds where I had to stop drink, and it was just fine. Sex is too sobering.

Well, certainly as my partner was him, I should have taken it as a sign to stop.

[She laughs, taking another drag and just about managing not to choke.]

God, though, it was like... he was insulting me when we met, because he didn't immediately realise that I was a woman. And when he found out, it was like someone had flicked a switch, you know? Suddenly he was being all nice to me. I kind of hate that. I must have been really desperate, ugh. I know he was.

Well, I can't imagine a man like that meeting women who talk to him at all very often. He's not the...most polite and well mannered person, from what I've seen.

Anyway, we all get into desperate modes. Don't beat yourself up. It's never good to get drunk and humiliate your father in front of his benefactor though. That was bad.

I think I preferred him when he was just being an asshole, too. The way he's been with me when he's seen me since then is just plain pathetic.

Yeah... the father thing, well, at least that's not something that would ever be an issue for me. I'll have to find someone else to embarrass like that, if I'm going to get drunk and humiliate someone. Maybe it'll have to be one of you two.

[Descole laughs;] Good luck trying to embarrass me. I don't think there's anything you could do.

[Bradley let's out a sarcastic snicker.]

Bet there is! How much do you want to bet?

I'm sure we could find something between us, right Bradley.

...though, even if we can't, this place will undoubtedly embarrass you at some point.

I turn pink easily. Jean doesn't, so if this place can do that, we've reached our goal.

I think we can do it though, Ms. Descole. There's not much stopping us.

[Descole snorts;] Yeah right. Good luck.

All we have to do is make him blush? God, I know a hundred ways to make men blush. Not sure how many I could actually manage nowadays, and how many of those would actually work on double, but I'm sure something would work.

[She chuckles, taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing the smoke at Descole with a smirk.]

I don't know if THOSE methods count. That's too easy.

You know what we can do? Just compliment him a lot. He gets blushie when other people are proud of himself.

[Descole looks over at him;] I do not!

[Bradley shakes his head.]

He lies. After you watch him perform, even if you suggest how beautiful he was, he gets blushie.