Bar
Oh, should he be recovering his hand? It feels nice where it is.

"What gets on your bad side?" A touch of worry there. "I rarely do?"

Blink he missed, sadly. Next time.

As for his parents, he just nods, glumly. It hurts. In a time when his world is hurt.

Brow furrows, until he decides you do seem to mean it. A slow nod.

The bleak hopelessness beneath the heartbreak is showing through now, can't be helped, even as he lets you take his hand, or just touch it.

Their voice so quiet it's practically inaudible. "No. I can't - if I hate me, they'll hate me too. They should. And I just - I can't." They fully believe what they're saying - whether it's true outside their head, is a different question. The fragility in and around them speaks volumes, perhaps.

If he was speaking to his friends, yes, they would have told him that. The logic in what you're saying is... logical. They also have him fighting tears. Drunken confessions to a stranger, evidently, are easier than you might think. Or he'd have thought.

"You're right. You're right. But if I don't have Holly, then there's... no one. I'm barely surviving this right now." It's not a thing he's admit sober. He's pretty sure it isn't. Maybe he souldn't have, but too late now.

The faintest of smiles for the nudge, a rueful turn of lips. "Oh, I'm pretty open normally." A slight brow furrow. "I mean, no, probably not, like, admitting that I'm not sure I can survive this is a little tooooo open."

Their words, still, the carefully enunciated of someone who is drunk and trying very hard not to sound like it.

Bleak eyes hold yours, like he's trying to read you. Your sincerity. "If you want to hang out with my depressed ass, I'm not going to argue. I'm Leo. Experimenting with pronouns, but like, he/they right now. Either's good."

The House
snorts

How could anyone possibly resist...

Luxor Heights
He follows you down one hallway, and then as you double back, you almost run right into him, He slips out of the way, and then back toward the other staircase with you...

"Not that Car-show's boys would have been much happier to see us. I still think he thinks we're going to zero him for stiffing us on that Klep-job. And he's right."

As you open the satchel, Mike's fingers were born of speed as he reaches to try and nab the bag of pills before you could correctly identify them...

 

And then he'd pull his hand from his own pocket, and in it was just a slip of paper.

"Look! Maybe it's another map to rich—"

He has unfurled it, and his face scrunches up...

"Hunh...."

He turns the note over, and shows it to you.

𝐼 𝒹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝑜, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒹𝑜

WHO WANTS TO TALK ABOUT

AMWAY

WHILE I GET OFF

WHO WANTS TO TALK ABOUT

AMWAY

WHILE I GET OFF

snorkel in Fiji... can we add a boat at anchor?... please

sharper is good!

Absolutely gorgeous!

I adore Atlas Obscura!

I think I could divide my answers into two categories
TARDISes and geography.

The library is a great choice, I still love the smell of books.
My grandfather's workshop where I learned woodwork and metal fabrication.
My grandmothers kitchen garden (and kitchen) where I learned some arcane chemistry.

As far as places that changed my path and shaped the person I am, Jiddah, Amsterdam, and the Channel Islands.

Looking in as I pass by

looks

Luxor Heights
"Wait I don't know this area quite as well as I—" MILLIE started to move with you, stopped, and then started to double back and move towards a different stairwell as more voice could be heard, distantly. Difficult to tell if they were coming from above or below, given it was carrying through the whole stairwell.

Someone told a very funny joke, evidently.

"Okay let's take this path. Holy shit, I didn't know this was a Gongo hang, wasn't this Giancarlo's spot last week?"

Not too surprising, given that territory changes hands all the time, just something that caught her off-guard in the moment. Even as she was moving, she started to rummage over what she pulled off of Krank.

A leather satchel, unzipped to reveal some bags of pills and other substances, presumably for redistribution.
Some XBD shards.

Spare mag and power source for his gun, just a standard Liberty Arms pea-shooter.

"I'm pretty sure you killed him, dude…" Like she should be too concerned. A fate that was waiting for them all, one day.

"…uh what was on the sidekick?"

Bar
A grateful sound as you help him with his balance, letting you bolster - hand staying on your shoulder, though.

"Wait, that you're clever? That lesson?"

Oh, see, he doesn't think he's drunk enough yet.

"I'm not. It still sucks, though." It was an afterthought, tagged on, because you're right.. it's the least of things.

Seaglass eyes narrow, leaning in close as if that will help them discern if you mean it. "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

A blink, and you've hit on a sore point. A wound. Even drunk, his voice quiet, "I don't have anyone else. And I offered to never talk to Holly again. I did." But they can'tlose everything. They won't survive it. They're barely surviving this. They're hanging on by a thread, and they're too drunk to try to hide the bleakness of it, the darker thoughts they keep having.

Take away their only support, and they will fall.

Voice quiet and hurting, "I don't think you know enough. Just... not seeing Holly won't fix things."

Brow furrows. "This somehow made you want to hang out with me? I mean, I'd like that, pretty girl offers to help you be less lonely, that's a clear yes, please. Just... why would you want to?"

Luxor Heights
Even knowing precisely what was about to happen, MILLIE didn't quite anticipate the lethal violence of your metal-festooned rabbit punch to the back of Krank, whose awkwardly strewn body ragdolled into an awkward posture before her.

MILLIE startled, earning a few extra inches of space as she reeled back and stared down, gawking at Krank whose arms were tangled awkwardly with his fists half-closed, thumb and index and half of his middle finger jut out like he were holding an invisible pistol in each hand, head cocked sideways against the couch and breathing forcefully yet completely unconsciously, snorting wet and loud and rapid with his eyes almost closed and staring in opposite directions, colorful mohawk disheveled and folded in starched disarray against the pummeled leather.

Fresh blood began to dribble, and she was almost certain he'd be dead in a few minutes or seconds.

"FUCK!" she had barely had a chance to process that macabre image when the follow-up sent Peter the Eater backwards and through the hollow faux-wood of the bathroom door and leave him groaning, barely conscious.

"Wait wait wait…" Ever resourceful, she decided to rummage through the soon-to-be-flatlined Krank's pockets.

"Woo! Some iron! Grab the other gonk's stuff, let's go!"

Bar
Her right hand lifts to catch you when you overbalance and you manage to catch yourself on her shoulder, so she just gently bolsters you into a sitting position with her hand on your ribs.

That's a perfect lesson to learn.

You'll notice that, aside from the drink she promised in trade for your story and the one she ordered for herself when she sat down, she hasn't ordered another. You're drunk enough, if you ask her.

But... I didn't get the feeling you were close to your parents?

Not that it doesn't hurt, but, like... a minor pang, in comparison to the rest, yeah?

We can have this debate again when you're sober, if you want.

Is she kidding? It's hard to tell. Even if you were sober, it might still be hard to tell, honestly.

Those pale blue eyes of hers gain intensity as she looks at you. When you pause, she leaps in.

I mean... I get that you can't unmake the mistake, but if it was the biggest mistake in your life, I don't understand why you'd keep making it.

You don't stand a chance of winning Dee back if you keep sleeping with Holly, if you ask me.

Then, as if realizing that her honesty may come off a little heavy, she apologizes.

Sorry, you are totally not asking me. It just seems like you're giving up what you really want so you can hold on to something fun and helpful and so you won't be alone.

And, yet again, she's dipped into being too honest. There's an apologetic shake of her head that makes her ponytail swing.

Sorry, I have a thing... about honesty.

Even when I don't know enough and it's not really my business, apparently.

A slight sheepishness to her tone, but she still doesn't think she's wrong.

While I'm in no state to help out with an apartment, maybe I could be someone fun to be around and keep you from being quite so lonely sometimes?

That is, if you're up for someone who often slips into being far too honest.

Luxor Heights
You got through '—work—', and Mike was on the move. The sound of displaced and rattling bottles precedes his violent introduction of his metal'd knuckles into the back of Krank's skull. Having pushed off his cybernetic leg, the tumbling glass shatters at the moment of his full extension impact into The soft, pack-of-hotdogs flesh that did it's best to protect that fragile bit of spine-to-skull connection.

Which is to say, not enough. His fist hit's Krank with the sound of an aluminum bat that's been filled with water, dimmed sound of metal striking something with force.

Krank's Eyes keep their sightline, staring at MILLIE. The only problem is, his head whips forward and his body follows as he goes tumbling over the battered coffee table. He was completely blind-sided, sucker-punched, and crashed to the floor, wedged between the coffee table and the couch.

Peter the Eater looks down at Krank's body, and then to Mike, throwing his hands up into the air, shouting "I DIDN'T EVEN LIKE HIM ANYW—"

The bar, etched with I M across it's front, follows it's leaping punch into Krank's skull by smashing into Peter's nose.

Blood fires down his front like the world's grossest spit-take, and he tumbles backwards to fall through the bathroom door and land hard on the tile.

"Let's Go!"

Shouts Mike, at you, already moving toward the door.

beanstalk