« arianna deburgh : whiskey bent and hellbound

**urbanchimera** · March 3rd, 2007, 02:32 AM

</center>

I've been down so long that down don't worry me.
I've been down so long that down don't worry me.
I just sit and wonder, where can my good man be?

When it rains in here, it's storming on the sea.
When it rains in here, it's storming on the sea.
Every time I come here, everything happens to me.

I lose my man, I lose my head.
I lose my money, feel like I'm almost dead.
I need you honey, need you bad as can be.
I've been down so long that down don't worry me .

billie holiday

Two years ago
January 3rd, 1928

?????There was so much blood on the bed..

?????Moving from the doorway, further into the room, shaky hands lifted to push back hair falling into eyes too wide for her face. The prone body, face down on the bed, was stared at in simple horror-- flickers of panic and sorrow streaking the indigo surface like a lightning cloud. In an almost cinematic sort of flashback, the memory of just two hours ago sprung up unbidden:

"Two more weeks. That's all before we can leave here, and move to a place no one's heard of either of us."

On that same bed, they lay together, fingers tangled, and her head on his shoulder-- her eyes lifted to rest on his as he talked. A brow furrowed with what he said, and her mouth worked for a moment before, "Are you sure we can do that? What if--"

Fingers lifted to her mouth, stopping the words that had just began. "No what ifs. We'll leave, and they can have at the running. It's time we stopped that, and started thinking about a family. Our family." With a half-grin, he bent down enough to peck a kiss to her nose. "Just us, Ari..."

?????Blinking away the last of the memory, her head whipped around at the sound of the front door being violently kicked in. As time as the sight of three uniforms registered in her brain, she met the wall unceremoniously as one of them grabbed her and proceeded to slap on a pair of handcuffs.

?????"You have the right to remain silent.."

<center>* * * * *</center>

?????The holding cell was nothing short of disgusting. With all of the bodies crammed into a single space, there was barely any room to breathe. Women of all types occupied the fifteen by fifteen room, though most of them seemed to be 'ladies of the night'. Garish make-up and gaudy, sequined clothing bright enough to make you squint, it was all she could do to angle her shoulders to the side, and try to pretend they weren't there.

?????"Whatcha in for, honey?" was asked from the gum smacking woman on her left, a gnarled finger coming up to tap her on the shoulder a couple of times when she didn't answer immediately. Pretending like she wasn't there wasn't working, and Ari finally glanced over to her. "Dunno," mumbled almost inaudibly-- attention quick to redirect to the floor at their feet.

?????Patrick was dead. As much as she tried to comprehend the fact, it didn't seem to want to sink in. The man she'd married only a short year ago was now occupying a slab in the morgue, waiting for an autopsy to confirm something that wasn't true; that something being that she had brutally stabbed him to death. She may have done some illegal things in her life -- or .. a lot, depending on who was counting -- but murder had never been her cup of tea. A pacifist at best, violence was so far off of her radar, it was ridiculous. Or, it had been four hours ago..

?????"Honey.. hey, doll, you gotta light?" The same woman began her shoulder tapping again, and this time, when Ari looked back her way, the hooker quickly averted her gaze. "Touch me one more time," started quietly, "and I'll dislocate every single joint in your hand." The corner of her lip turning upwards into a sneer, she pushed up off of the narrow bench that she'd been sharing with the broad, and moved for the opposite wall. Shoulder hitting the cold stone, indigos trained outwards through the bars, into the hallway just beyond where they were all held.

?????Concentration made her expression pinch-- lashes lowering and falling rapidly in effort to staunch back any tear flow as thoughts of Patrick began infringing once more, it wasn't until the scuff of several pairs of shoes behind her sounded, that she realized...Oh hell. The first punch managed to rock her back on her feet, but the second and third set her to the floor. Anything after the fourth was a blur as stars exploded behind her eyes, and darkness swept in to block it all out.

?????"Uppity bitch is gonna learn the hard way, I reckon." Shaking out the hand that had landed the first punch, the talkative prostitute spat down onto the unconscious woman before heading back to reclaim her abandoned seat. Her helpers broke up as well, and milled back to where they'd been-- feigning ignorance when the guard finally meandered by and inquired after what had happened. With little more than a looking over through the bars, he shrugged and went on with his business of checking the rest of the cells. Like the other had said: She'd learn the hard way, in this place.

[ March 04, 2007 09:59 PM: Message edited by: partially inclined ]

**urbanchimera** · March 3rd, 2007, 03:02 AM

Two years ago
February 10th, 1928

?????The interrogation room was little more than a closet with a small table and two chairs in the middle of it; the smell of nicotine and stale coffee lingering like a vengeful spirit. Pushing away the chipped mug that her lawyer had managed to finagle out of one of the guards, a distasteful look was swept around. "I didn't kill him," repeatedly flatly, for the fifteenth time in five minutes. Scratching nervously at the back of his head, James Harkin -- otherwise known as Jimmy to his friends -- flicked bloodshot eyes up to her face. "They say they got evidence that proves ya did, dolly. Might as well 'fess up now and save everybody some tax dollars. Ain'tcha heard there's a recession?"

?????There was a sudden clatter when he said that, and you can bet your ass it wasn't Saint Nick. The chair she'd been hunched in was kicked back as she pushed up to her feet-- both hands planting on the scarred, sticky table top, and she leaned in to get very up close and personal with him. "To hell a recession, to hell with the people that say I did it, and to hell with you, you little snake. I know I didn't kill Patrick." The words were getting easier to say without the memory of his blood soaked body flaring to life to cause a stabbing pain in her heart.

?????Three weeks of sitting in a small cell, getting knocked around whenever the other broads felt like it, had kind of made Ari not really dwell on anything other than basic survival. Why she didn't fight back was still a question those women asked themselves each time. At the moment, her eye still hadn't gone down from the last 'attack', and her lip was still slightly puff. Everyone turned their heads and pretended like they didn't notice. Ari was just following along with the trend.

?????"Whether ya know it or not ain't the point. If they got evidence, yer up a creek without a paddle, and there's a hole in the boat." Shrugging thin shoulders beneath the cheap fabric of his jacket, he began picking up all of the folders and papers he'd brought along. Grabbing one of his hands mid-gather, he was nearly jerked across that table. "What about people I got that know where I was when he was getting killed, huh? That don't matter?" It didn't, and they both knew it. Meeting her steely gaze, Jimmy simply stood there-- staring at her with a look that said just that. "I'll be back in a week. If they tell ya to plead guilty, I'd be smart and plead guilty." The way he said it, it was almost like a warning, and she released him as if his skin was actually harming her.

?????"Tell whoever you're working for, or whoever set you up to this, that they can kiss my ass, and somehow -- someway, I'll meet up with 'em one day." With that, she moved past him and thumped a palm onto the heavy door several times, signaling the guard she was ready to go. When the structure swung open, arms were held out-- wrist up, so that they could put the cuffs on her, and lead her back to her cell. On the way, while passing by the other cells, chin lifted high as remarks were yelled out to her-- their voices smug, sarcastic, and belittling.

?????"Prisoner D451-521, returned," called out from the guard when she was deposited to her own little slice of 'paradise', the cell door shut with a resounding clank once she was inside. Sinking down onto the bottom bunk, her face dropped to her hands-- shoulders slumping with the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks.. and with the knowledge of what was more than likely going to happen later on during break.

?????Maybe this time, they'd actually kill her.

[ March 25, 2007 11:10 PM: Message edited by: partially inclined ]

**urbanchimera** · March 5th, 2007, 02:03 AM

Two years ago
March 5th, 1928

"I'll have you out by morning. Your personal belongings will be waiting for you at the front desk, and I have advised the guards that you're to be ready by eight."

Words she'd been longing to hear ever since being thrown into this God-forsaken place. Pacing back and forth across the stone floor, eyes flickered nervously to the cell's door. It had been an hour since they'd said they were processing her release. With her luck, they had decided to lose the paperwork, and take another four or five days. Of course, the rest of what Catalina had said hinted that anything of that sort was unacceptable.

"Get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow. There's another run scheduled, and they want you heading the operation."

Another run scheduled. Heading the operation. She didn't know about the business well enough to actually start heading her own runs. Patrick had always been the one in charge. Though, with him dead, it was kind of hard for him to reclaim his rightful position...

"deBurgh, ya moving out."

Head lifting sharply, the guard unlocking the door was given a look that was almost delight. Of course, that was before a hand lifted to rub at the newest bruise accumulated. When it seemed like the prisoners were giving up on using her for a stress relief punching bag, the guards had thought it funny to knock her around every now and then. Whoever had framed her apparently thought it was hilarious, in any event. Having declined the advice on pleading guilty, she'd been stuck in lock-down. Time to think, the judge had called it, though you could see the look in his eyes. Dollar signs practically danced across his face.

"Ya hear me, toots? Move it o--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you."

The rough tone of her voice even caused Ari to wince, and a grimace twisted the curve of her lips. Having no belongings in the cell, other than herself, it didn't take very long to brush past the over-weight, arrogant ponce, and head up the long hallway that led out to the front. "Where's the fire, sweetheart? Ready t'leave us already?" Lewd laughter followed the comment, and per usual, she ignored anything that might've been perverse or underlying.

Stopping in beside the front desk, both hands dropped to the polished wood as she waited for the clerk to hand over what little had been confiscated the night she'd been arrested. It seemed like forever ago, when in actuality, it'd only been about two months. Time really didn't have any meaning when all you had to do with your day was eat, sleep, walk around the yard, and get hit occasionally.

Pulling the plastic bag from the cabinet behind him, the clerk unceremoniously dumped everything onto the counter, and began rifling through it-- calling out for all to hear, whatever he handed to her. "One wedding bang, yellow gold. Two set of keys. A tube of lipstick. A--"

"And a partridge in a friggin' pear tree. Just let her go already."

The clerk glanced nervously over to the Lieutenant, who was giving him a glare that could melt a preacher. Apparently Catalina had put the fear of God into the man, and without another word, the rest of her belongings were shoved over. In turn, shoving it all into whatever pocket it'd fit into, Ari didn't give a backwards glance to the place as she pushed through the doors.

Once outside, the first thing she did was lift her chin, and stare up at the sky-- a deep, shuddering breath taken in as if she'd never been in fresh air before, and eyes squinting at the brightness of the sun. Shoulders squared as the chill of the air hit her, it didn't take very long for feet to turn and shuffle her off into the direction of her new temporary home. A cheap hotel room near the docks, that had probably been a whore house at one point. Not really the lap of luxury or anything, but for now .. it'd do.

After all, she had a business to run.

**urbanchimera** · March 9th, 2007, 02:38 AM

Two years ago
May 13, 1928

????? Exhaling a stream of smoke through pursed lips, eyes lifted to scan over the barb-wire topped fence enclosing the prison. It had been a long train ride to Chicago from Jersey, but Ari was hoping it'd be worth her time-- that the man she was here for was worth her time. In the beginning, Patrick had been the one to make the trips, recruiting new people.

????? Hell, he'd recruited her from some backwater po'dunk town in Georgia; away from her father's small time moonshine running set-up. Moonshiners distributing to other mule-towns could only get a person so far. Either in jail, or in the ground. With that thought, she smiled at the irony of it. Been to jail, and Pat was dead...

????? Shrugging out of that reverie, it didn't take very long for her attention to shift to the gates that were now opening-- revealing the prisoners that had finally made it to that all important day. Release day. He was easy to spot. Six foot - three of broad muscles, dark eyes, and an air about him that almost literally felt like violence. It was exactly what she was looking for, and with that in mind, she pushed away from the post she'd been leaning against, and meandered slowly across the road towards him.

????? "You Tom?" No use in starting with pleasantries. He stopped dead in his tracks and gave her a once-over-- eyes slowly starting at the long hair curling over a shoulder, and stopping at the small feet encased in square-heeled pumps.

????? "You're Murphy?" The incredulousness in his voice made her smile. No one ever expected the broad to be in charge.

????? "Maybe if my dad hadn't tried so hard." Tongue darting out to run over dry lips, Ari tried her best at not smiling again as the joke went over the guy's head. "Don't blow a gasket thinkin' on it, sport, just come with me."

????? Gesturing to the borrowed Duesenberg parked not too far away, she didn't look back to see if he'd follow or not. Assumptions were things of evil, but the sound of heavy footsteps following her got little more than a nod. Money talked, even if it was only the prospect of it, right now.

????? "I ain't workin' for no broad," was the first thing he said while climbing into the passenger seat-- a nervous glance given back to the correctional building. The words might've held some conviction if he hadn't gotten into the car, and as it were, Ari merely snorted before cranking the Deusy up.

????? "If it'll make you feel any better, junior, you won't be workin' for me. Not directly. I'm only in the middle of the food chain." Which.. was the truth. Her orders were passed down to Cat, who in turn gave them to Ari, who gave them out to whoever was working the dock that week. "Plus, if you don't like workin' with skirts, you're free to jump out the car." Gesturing to the door he was half-leaning against, she graciously moved her foot off the gas pedal, so they slowed a little.

????? Grimacing, fingers tightened convulsively on his knee, and dark eyes shifted over her way. For a woman, she was kind of mouthy. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen. In a grudging tone, he asked, "What's the bank on it?"

????? That's more like it. "Thirty five bucks a crate, no less than twenty crates a shipment. We pull four jobs a week, unless the boss decides that ain't enough." Shrugging, she leaned forward against the steering wheel and peered both ways as they halted at a stop sign. Instead of making a turn, she looked over to him expectantly. "S'up to you, sparkplug, ain't nobody holdin' a gun to your head."

????? The look he gave her was shielded, though he did finally chime in with, "Stop with the nicknames." So witty. "Fine, but make up your mind already. I gotta get back to Jersey in two days, and if you're wastin' my time, we can end it right here." As in, he could get the hell out, and walk to where ever it was he had to go. "Tick tock and all that jazz." She even tapped her watch, and held it out his way.

????? Inhaling deeply, he nudged her arm back over her way. "Fine, but once we get there, I meet the boss."

????? Grinning, all she gave was a shrug before pointing the car in the direction of the train station. She figured he wasn't exactly needing to pack, and her gear was already in the trunk. "We'll see, doll."

????? Yeah. They'd see.

[ March 22, 2007 09:44 PM: Message edited by: partially inclined ]

**urbanchimera** · March 23rd, 2007, 02:28 AM

One year ago
July 6, 1929

?????"Hey, Murphy.. can I ask ya somethin'?"

?????Standing at the edge of the dock, almost shoulder to shoulder, Tom and Ari were looking out at one of the boats coming to port. Tonight was an unloading night, and it was hotter than Hell. Sweat was already beading on their brows, even with the slight help of the breeze coming off the water.

?????"Yeah?" Not much more prompting than that was needed, or expected, and he glanced down to her.

?????"Ever get tired of doin' this?" The question was asked so solemnly, it almost took her by surprise. Brows ticked upwards, though she didn't bother with looking back at him. Instead, she shrugged off the long sleeved white shirt she'd thrown over the undershirt, and tied it around her waist as the boat docked, and the gangplank was lowered.

?????Once she was satisfied with the shirt placement, she began walking up the plank to start the job. Just when he thought she wasn't going to answer, "Every damn night of my life," was thrown back to him.

------------------------------

?????She wasn't the most talkative person in the world. Usually, she only spoke when spoken to, or when she had to pass down an order. It was sort of a reverse, considering most people expected the 'big goon' to be the strong silent type. Tom would talk to a wall, if there wasn't anyone else around.

?????Sometimes he wondered if she was different when her husband was still alive. Tom didn't know the full story behind that, other than the guy had been found in their bedroom, without a pulse, and she'd taken the fall for it. Of course, all the speculation was kept to himself. The one time he'd tried to ask her about Patrick had nearly resulted in a fist fight.

?????There were few moments when he'd seen a real smile on her face. The most genuine one had been when he had told her that his wife, Marie, was pregnant with their second child. She already got along famously with his oldest, Angelina. The two were as thick as thieves when they were in the same place together. Maybe she related better to kids. Or maybe it was that they didn't know about anything going on in the adult's lives, and the change was appreciated.

?????Sighing heavily, he dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs, and dropped his face to his hands. The whole thing was getting to him, it seemed. A year ago, he'd been sitting in a jail cell, in Chi-Town, thinking he'd never see his family again. Now, it was like another jail sentence, just without the bars. Go do this when told, be back when told, have this amount of money, or you'll get shot..

?????"Everything okay?" was asked from the doorway. Marie was standing there, a hand holding the front of her robe closed, as she eyed her husband. She never asked about what went on, or where he was half the night. Without waiting for an answer, she walked over and dropped fingers to the back of his neck, kneading gently.

?????Glancing up blearily, eyes shut again when she started massaging. "Yeah, just a little tired."

?????"Maybe you should ask Ari about a night off this week." The words were slow in coming, because she already knew the answer before he even said it. "Nah, I can't leave her by herself with it all. It'll be alright. We'll go to the park Saturday or somethin'."

?????Turning towards her with a smile, arms slid around her waist-- chin dropped to rest on the barely there swell of her stomach. The smile was returned as her gaze slid down to him. "Angie'll like that. Invite Ari too, she can do with some fresh air."

?????The only thing he had to come back with to that, was an infamous, "We'll see."

------------------------------

?????While Tom and Marie were on one side of town, speculating on her, Ari was on the other, almost doing the exact same about them. To look at Tom, you wouldn't expect the guy to have a wife that was a Betty Crocker/Donna Reed clone, and a kid that could give anybody in Atlantic City a run for their money. Angie was an entity all within herself. Ari could see her running the business one day, if Tom didn't kill her for the idea first.

?????Marie was unlike anyone she'd ever met. All smiles, all the time, with dinner on the table promptly at six, and a drink waiting on her husband as soon as he walked in the door. It didn't matter what time of day -- or night -- they walked in the house, you could count on something freshly baked.

?????Pushing up off of the unmade bed, arms crossed over her chest as she walked over to the smudgy window of her two room apartment-- blank eyes staring out towards the water.

?????Every time she saw Marie, even Ari couldn't deny the small bit of sadness that settled in her chest. It was just idle wondering if Patrick had lived, maybe she would've been like that. Having children, baking cookies.. Not running rum, standing by while people got beat up on her order that had been passed down from the Boss, and living in a rat-trap by the bay.

?????Trailing a finger down the glass, a heavy sigh was exhaled, coupled with the word, "Pluvia." With that, the clouds began thickening up, and moments later, fat rain drops started falling to the ground as she made her way back to bed, and face planted one of the pillows.

Where is the coastguard?
I keep looking each direction
for a spotlight, give me something.
I need something for protection.
Maybe flotsam junk will do just fine,
the jetsam sunk, I'm left behind.
I'm treading for my life believe me.
How can I keep up this breathing?

Not knowing how to think,
I scream aloud, begin to sink.
My legs and arms are broken down
with envy for the solid ground.
I'm reaching for the life within me.
How can one man stop his ending?
I thought of just your face,
relaxed, and floating into space.

I want to swim away but don't know how.
Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean.
Let the waves up take me down.
Let the hurricane set in motion.
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down.

( into the ocean, blue october )

[ March 23, 2007 08:36 AM: Message edited by: partially inclined ]

**urbanchimera** · March 26th, 2007, 02:15 AM

<center>don't kid yourself,
and don't fool yourself.
this love's too good to last,
and I'm too old to dream.</center>

She was there again, standing in that same door way she'd stood in over two years ago-- eyes fixated on the neatly made bed with it's pretty floral print comforter, and pile of pillows. It seemed as if the bed was waiting on her to climb into it, like she had so many times before, and wait for Patrick to show up. Deep in her heart, Ari knew that it was an impossibility, but the mind liked playing tricks on you.

Hands stretching out in front of her, eyes closed, almost like she was blind, she tried to feel.. sense.. something. Over and over again, she did the same thing, and over and over again, she received the same answer. Nothing. Eventually, the new owners of the house would find out that she'd been breaking in, every now and then. Until that time came, though, she'd continue with what was happening. Trying to find Pat's killer-- either legally, illegally, or mystically. So far, the triad of options had turned up a big, fat zero.

There was a devoid of emotion in her gaze when eyes reopened, and hands dropped back to hang idly at her sides. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway prompted her into motion-- black clad form slipping quietly through the half open window she'd used to enter the house. While the family ushered themselves through the front door -- voices light and full of laughter -- she blended easily into the shadows and made her way towards the street-- slowly walking down the path that led to her hotel room.

<center>don't grow up too fast,
and don't embrace the past.
this life's too good to last,
and I'm too young to care.</center>

Once safely back in her sanctuary, the door was closed firmly-- all four dead bolts turned into place, and a chair propped against the door handle. As well, there were a few broken topped bottles under each window into the room, and a knife handily in reach beneath her mattress that could be accessed at a second's notice. Did she think all of this was necessary? Probably not, but whoever had killed him may want to come back one day and tie up any 'loose ends'. She'd rather be safe than .. dead. Most of the time.

Shirt tugged off and thrown into a corner, boots quickly followed, along with the slim case that held the tools used for breaking and entering. A rum runner by trade, it never hurt to have a few 'extra' abilities, should the opportunity arise. With a muffled grunt, her form dropped into the one rickety wooden chair in the room-- elbows dropping onto the table, and fingers reaching out to grab at a few papers lying there. Nothing important; a schedule of next week's harbor activity, with some of the days marked with a star.

Giving the lot a brief glance, the papers were thrown back to where they'd been, and fingers crept past them towards the small bottle on the edge of the table. Two tapped out and dry swallowed, a dull look was given to the far wall as the bottle was recapped. Maybe one day, they'd actually do what they were supposed to in the way of knocking her out. As it were, they merely made her dazed enough to not think so much.

Moving over to crawl onto the bed, a pillow was grabbed and hugged to her chest-- lower lip bitten tightly, and eyes widened considerably in an effort to not cry. It had been so long since she'd shed a tear, that the thought of doing it now seemed to be a weakness. Even if nobody else was around. Her time in jail, and her time running with this new boss had taught her that. It had been tough to get through, but she'd finally gotten her degree from the School of Hard Knocks.

<center>don't kid yourself,
and don't fool yourself.
this life could be the last,
and we're too young to see.</center>

( blackout, muse )

[ March 26, 2007 09:38 PM: Message edited by: partially inclined ]

**urbanchimera** · April 26th, 2007, 07:26 PM

<center>I am realizing that everybody's lost their simple ways.
And now that's it here, I see it all so clearly.
I've come face to face with the enemy.
So predicting, you're the reason why I lie.
Simple decisions took me too much time.
Tough life, checkmate.</center>

????"Leaving so soon?"

????The question came from behind her, voice barely above a lazy murmur as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. Grabbing at the sheet, it was tugged over his lap as she glanced back to him. "Got work to do," was her only reply as a shirt was pulled over her head. Twisting a little, it didn't take much for knees to plant into the mattress and she half-crawled back over to him-- dropping a kiss to his forehead. "You know," started off drolly, "I'm starting to feel a little used." If there was any seriousness to the words, he wasn't letting it show.

????Hands sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt, they rested on the bare skin of her hips and gave a small tug down. Half laughing as she almost fell, Ari maneuvered around until she was right at looming over him. "Just a little? Guess I'm not doin' my job."

????Any amusement that was on his face immediately vanished, and dark blues leveled onto amethyst. "Yeah you are, you're just working for somebody else." Jaw setting, he gave her shoulder a light push, and slid from the bed. Making a noise of exasperation, she dropped onto her side, and lifted a fist to support her head-- eyes following his movements of getting dressed. "We've been over this, Brad. Over and over, to be exact. Don't act like it's somethin' new."

????"Yeah, I know," replied angrily as his slacks and shirt were tugged on-- buttons left undone as he began the hunt for his shoes. "He's dead, you know Ari. Not coming back." Turning back to look at her with that, the sudden flare in her eyes almost made him wish he hadn't said it. Then again, you can't take back something once it's in the open. "I think you're oversteppin' yourself," was all she said in a tight, heated voice-- bed vacated as she too began tugging on her pants.

????"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd quit acting like some bereaved saint. Jesus, Ari, it's been tw-- what the fuck?!"

????Arms going over his head as something crashed into the wall right beside him, he spun around to see her hefting another lamp. The other was lying in a few pieces at his feet, and the smell of kerosene was overpowering. "Say.. one.. more.. fuckin'.. word about him.. and I will_kill_you." Each word bitten off precisely, she unconsciously took a step back away from him, in case she forgot herself and followed through.

????Waiting until she lowered the lamp, Brad took the step forward that she took back and aimed a finger at her. "Don't fucking threaten me," was the most clever thing he had to shoot back. Of course, he knew she wasn't threatening. Ari, at best, was a pacifist in most regards. Violence was a route she veered away from, unless pushed. Right now, he was shoving her -- figuratively -- with both hands. "You know the reply to that, so I don't even have to voice it," was replied eerily on cue, as if she'd read his mind.

????Turning on her heel, she bent down long enough to slide her shoes on, and on the way to the door, her shirt was buttoned. Having had quite enough of this bullshit for the evening, she was feeling her welcome had been overstayed. When she was wrapping fingers around the door handle, his voice called to her, holding an almost amused undercurrent. Even with everything that had transpired, he knew she wouldn't leave. Not just yet anyway.

????The pill bottle in his hand was lifted in the air and shaken a few times-- pills hitting against the sides and making her stop dead in her tracks-- making shoulders stiffen, and her chin lift. Slowly, Ari half turned back towards him; teeth gritting together as she worked at swallowing all of that bravado and what was left of her pride. "Going without these?" asked of her, conversationally, as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Shirt still gaping open and hair bed-tousled, Ari wasn't sure which looked better. Him or the drugs.

????Jaw working for a moment, it didn't take long for steps to re-direct his way, even if they were a little slow. Swinging a leg over and settling herself directly onto his lap, arms wound their way around his neck, and her mouth dropped to the side of his neck. "'m sorry," was mumbled there moments before her head lifted, for eye to eye contact. The smugness she saw on his face nearly made her leave him sitting there, but...

????"Don't worry about it, babe, I know you didn't mean it." Smiling then, the bottle was tucked into her hand before his own settled on her hips, holding her in place. They both knew she'd meant every single, solitary word, but that's how their relationship worked. They put up with each other for a few unencumbered romps in the sack, and what he'd just given her. "It'll be alright with Lorenzo if you're a few minutes late, I'm sure," was said after a long, quiet moment, and he began undoing the buttons she'd just fastened.

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