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WHO: Pickles and the Shade
WHERE: Pickles' apartment
WHEN: Forward dated to Xmas Eve, nighttime
WARNINGS: Just inappropriate language and behaviour from Pickles
SUMMARY: Pickles doesn't like Xmas on principle of it not being fucking brutal, but the dude's still a lonely little drummer boy.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, then whatever Jill chooses to go with.

Pickles had never really liked Christmas. His parents had effectively ruined that holiday for him very early on by getting him stuff like his father's cigarette butts and one sock while his brother got a really cool toy GI Joe truck to tool around in (then crash and destroy all on the same day and claim it was Pickles' fault).

He managed to avoid the holiday most of his life after running away from home, except the times Toki got his way back in Mordhaus. Even then something would happen that would make the shit holiday worthwhile, be it spectacular deaths or public humiliation of other people, or both, if he was lucky. But he had a feeling he wouldn't have any treats like that here in the City. Nothing that could really satisfy him, at least.

He was feeling pretty bummed thanks to the stupid holiday he didn't even fucking celebrate, because he was sure everyone in the world had someone to spend the holiday with while his band--while Nathan--was a whole shitty universe away. Dethklok didn't even have a Christmas tradition that he was missing, it was more the fact that people out there were hanging out with their best buds and getting drunk off eggnog while he didn't have that was really getting him down.

Shit, he even had bought the wrong fucking alcohol-free eggnog by mistake!

He took another drink of his beer-and-eggnog, staring blankly at his third viewing of A Christmas Story, thinking up all the various things he and Nathan could be doing to torture Murderface right then instead of that, and sighed.

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The Shade was hardly a cheery sort. The holiday wasn't really his thing, by far. Christmas was meant to be spent by the living, and even though he'd been invited to many a soiree, and attended a few himself, he'd never truly belonged. He was an immortal, timeless and watching. The people who reveled in the holiday were the sort that would enjoy life, and enjoy the company of their friends and loved ones.

It wasn't that he bemoaned it, however. It was merely a fact of life. It was simply something that happened, when one didn't continue to live like others did.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't spread holiday cheer, in his own, odd way. He slipped gifts to others where they wouldn't see, either out of an amusement to see how they would react to such things, or simply to get a rise. Pickles was the one he'd decided could get a rise. He'd seen the small glass guitar in a pawn shop, something trashy and hardly like his good friend Jack would have run, but it would do. Not that he paid for it, but he'd simply swiped it as he usually did. Another little pretty, but this time he'd made sure to place a note that it was fragile, in case the destructive fellow had other ideas.

He'd planned to slip it in, late at night, under the cover of darkness. It wasn't like he would be noticed, slipping in the shadows, where they were darkest.

But he'd been caught by the loneliness of it all. The terrible movie with the boy in the bunny suit catching his eye for a moment, pursuing his precious bb gun. He'd seen it, of course, not that he was quite the fan of film.

He stopped, and cleared his throat, catching his attention.

Really, who other than immortals spent their Christmas alone with...alcohol-free eggnog?

It took him a moment for his brain to acknowledge he heard the throat clearing, and when it finally did sink in, his eyebrows lifted as he glanced over at the man that was mysteriously in his apartment. "Oh, hi," he said dully before looking back at the stupid movie.

Lifting his glass, he took another pathetic sip of his gross drink, but, as dictated by terrible comedic devices, he suddenly spat it all up onto his coffee table as he realized the dapper man in his living room wasn't the norm.

"The fuck are yew--the fuck??"

Of course, that was enough to make the entire thing worth it. The Shade wasn't the sort of person that called before he made his arrival, stepping in where he wished, and if he caught something he shouldn't, well, then he did. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it before, after all.

Although generally snide commentary was an accompaniment, because he could hardly leave it to lie, and this was no exception in the slightest. He felt his lips quirk, involuntarily, still looking out from behind sunglasses perched on his nose even in the dead of a cold Christmas Eve.

"My, my. Isn't this a sad sight?"

"What is?" he asked, almost defensively. It could be sadder, he could be only in his underwear. He had been planning on doing that in 15 minutes, so the Shade had showed up at just the right moment.

"You, of course. Alone, on Christmas. I thought all mortals tended to spend their Christmases in the company of others."

He said it with the matter-of-fact statement that said he thought that was simply how things were. He didn't know many mortals who were lonely.

"Especially in an environment, where we imports tend to come together so readily."

He glowered at him, then sat back in his couch, crossing his arms petulantly as he turned his eyes back to the TV. They still weren't focused on the screen, though, he just wanted something else to look at just in case he showed some emotion other than anger and the Shade caught him being all gay like that. "Yeh, well, I ain't no regular mortal and Christmas is for chumps anyway."

He took another long pull of his drink, grimacing when he was done. Seriously, Coors and egg nog was a terrible choice. He could have at least sprung for a more high end beer to make a terrible cocktail out of. At least it was working on getting him drunk. He was at the stage he was more beligerent, slowly going toward the lackadaisical and drooling stage. The stage where he won't care about shit all. "Besides, yew can't talk, breakin' into my place alone like this. The fuck, dude, yew lonely or somethin'?" His eyes turned to glare at him through the corner of them, one pierced eyebrow arching.

"Breaking and entering is something of my pasttime, if you must know," he explained, as if that should solve all of his problems. The Shade really didn't care if he was walking in someone's house, that was kind of a concern for lesser people.

Really, if he wanted to do it, he would do it, plain and simple. The Shade didn't move, but somehow, he seemed to shift and meld in the dark shadows of the room, or maybe the shadows just clung to him, as they were wont to do. Either way, it meant he looked like his form was shifting in the deep shadows.

Or maybe Pickles was simply that drunk already.

"If I were lonely, I would be sitting in my study, bemoaning my existence, thank you."

He overlooked the man's admission of illegal hobby, since it wasn't like Pickles' main hobby was very legal, either. Plus, he didn't give too much of a shit. Not like he had anything for the guy to steal, and he didn't really feel threatened by him, either. If he tried to take his shit beer and run Pickles could probably tackle him easy. He was scrappy.

Instead, he commented on the bemoaning stuff. "Yeh, I figured yew were an emo little jerk like that. Prahbly have a composer notebook full of yer poems and shit, huh? Prahbly a HIM brand notebook or somethin'." God, he hated HIM, whiny piece of shit singer. He had to turn his eyes back to the TV, since the man seemed to be swimming in his vision and was making him feel urpy. Pulling a face, he put the egg nog on the coffee table and just grabbed his can of beer, muttering how that other drink was obviously making him sick. "So, are yew gonna sit down or what now?" he asked as he brought the beer to his lips, trying to be all nonchalant.

Luckily for Richard, the couch seemed relatively clean. No trash on it, at least.

"And who, precisely, is HIM?" he asked, not really stepping, but one moment he was far back, the next he moved forward, in front of the couch, trails of dark smoke curling off his shoulders, which he brushed fastidiously before sliding into the seat. He had all the time in the evening, really. He would likely sleep on Christmas for a while, if at all.

The Shade didn't really sleep, and when he did it was light and not often. Darkness clung to his form even know, but he barely noticed it, and his eyes flicked to the TV with a low current of interest. He really didn't care, but he could appreciate the offer.

"If you must know, I record my life in my journals. I have many tales to tell, you see."

"Just some whiny li'l shit who can't get over the one time a girl broke up with him," he sniffed, glancing over when the man was suddenly next to him. But since he' was pretty ~~unobservant~~ laid back, he didn't think anything of it. Taking a moment to study him, he squinted a little at how oddly shadows set on him. It was sort of ominous and strange, but fortunately Pickles doesn't get too suspicious about things. Got in the way of him having a stress-free drunkard lifestyle.

"Heh, yeh, dude, yew aren't makin' me think of yew any less of an emo teenager here. What kinda tales do yew have to tell? Like the time the barista chick told yew the tea would be nutty but it was actually fruity?" He ended that on a scandalous note, hand to cheek. Chuckling, already in a better mood that he had someone else to abuse rather than just himself, he reached for the jar of eggnog sitting on the table. "Oh, want something to drink? No alcohol in it, though, I was too drunk when I gaht it to notice it was alcohol free," he snickered in a self-deprecating manner. "Yew can add beer to it but, ehhhhhhhhhhhhh, no, I wouldn't recommend it." He held the bottle out to Richard, as if expecting him to drink from it straight.

He lifted an eyebrow at the abomination that was alcohol-free eggnog. If there was one thing a lush and rake like the Shade preferred, it was most certainly to have his drink well lubricated with liquor, and his food filling and satisfying.

The fact that he'd been putting beer in the ungodly thing was even worse. "No, thank you," he added, not able to hide the revulsion. "Just a moment. Eggnog shouldn't be served without the proper accouterments. This is just an abomination. Just a moment."

And in a puff of mist and smoke, the Shade winked out, or rather, a brush of smoke and darkness that didn't so much as dissipate, as it merely melded with the darkness around them.

And then in mere seconds, the Shade returned, in another puff of shadows that seemed to slink back to him, but he had a carafe of... well, it looked like eggnog. A very fine carafe.

"I don't know how people live with store-bought versions of anything. Eggnog?" he offered him a glass.

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