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(no subject)

WHO:

grenadeball
WHERE: The Lux
WHEN: May 13th, 12am
WARNINGS: UST. Tank Girl's mouth.
SUMMARY: After their joust above the city, Tank and Lucifer retire to the Lux to divvy up their winnings.
FORMAT: Awkwapara, aka Paragraph.

The day's events, while atypical, had done nothing to raise Lucifer's spirits. While it was true that he did quite enjoy the "Games" he and Tank had devised to try and best each other at, too many things weighed too heavily on his mind for him to sit back, relax, and enjoy them for what they were. As they had been dog-fighting earlier, all the Morningstar could pay heed to was the existence of the Lion of God, on how Desire had retreated into the Threshold without warning or foreseeable cause, and how humankind HAD yet again dealt itself another violent blow without needing to be coerced into doing so.

It was all so very trite and tiring, at this point. There were so many games, so many individuals crowing on and on about heroics and what it meant to be a "hero," when all they did was follow their base, human instinct to quickly forget. To quickly brush away pain and move on to the next tragedy. Their propensity to keep moving forward without ever looking back made it very hard for Lucifer to not resent them, let alone come anywhere near tolerating their antics. They were like gnats to him, each of them buzzing about with their dreary, predictable lives until the entire city became a swarm of sameness, of repetition. That's all this latest tragedy was -- another act in a play whose architect had long since forgotten its point.

At least the bar was quiet.

Outside of Tank cleaning herself up in the bathroom -- he assumed, as he had asked to do so upon entering -- not a soul graced the Lux tonight, leaving the spacious establishment rather desolate. Lucifer sat at the bar in the meanwhile and wondered what she would ask, without an audience to revel in her natural brand of absurdity.

It would be something interesting, at the very least.

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She had mostly been tending to the sweat from the thrill of it all, and the blood. Just because her body healed up by itself didn't mean that it was also a bar of soap. Dried blood stuck around. And it didn't feel right, in the Lux, which was the height of classiness.

Plus, she could get her hair just the way she liked it.

A washing of the face, shaking her body like a dog, drying off everything and popping every joint in her body she could manage, she finally stepped out, taking off the sweat soaked flight jacket she had donned for the gamble, leaving her with just a basic t-shirt and shorts.

Air conditioning made it even better.

She waltzed out and over to her gambling buddy, sitting down right next to him.

"Writing Screwtape letters in your head?" The man did seem to be deep in thought, after all.

Edited 2010-05-13 22:11 (UTC)

"No," he breathed with the tiniest of sighs. "Just wondering about the state of the world and how annoying it's all becoming."

He gave her a once over, then added: "There's also the possibility of what state you left the bathroom in, and how long it'll take to clean."

"Some blood in the sink. Got in the drain, so no big deal."

"As for the world, well, you've been around longer for it. For better or for worse or for nothing at all."

She reached over the counter top without so much as asking 'may I please', grabbing a bottle of scotch, popping the nip off, and taking a refreshing chug straight from it.

"Mnnnh. Thought for sure I was gonna make it two in a row. Still, win some, lose some."

Tank smirked, blinked twice, and then turned that smirk into a full on grin.

"You should use your question first."

He said nothing at her taking of his brandy, instead opting to half roll his eyes before turning and leaning back against the bar, his elbows cradling the rest of his upper body against the hard surface.

"You came close," he offered up, then, with a smile. "Though, perhaps you were out of your element up in the air, heh."

He motioned for her to pass the brandy to him, his hand hanging between them as he spoke up again: "Is that a command or a suggestion?"

"I was. Jet Girl would've done it better. Damn, I miss her. Even if her taste in music is completely horrible. Rod Stewart, fucking shit."

Handed it over, amiable as ever to him.

"It's a suggestion."

Let the air fill for a moment.

"A strong suggestion. But just a suggestion."

"You're incredibly easy to please." he only half-teased, taking a swig of the brandy before casting his gaze back to the ceiling.

It was a good year, whenever this particular bottle had been made.

"Only a suggestion, though?"

He took another mouthful, let the words hang there between them for a moment.

"Tell me about your mother."

And that was that.

"My mom?"

Ugh. He was getting into the messy stuff.

Could've been worse.

Could've asked for the name.

"I got along fine with her, for the most part, when she was alive, yeah? Because she was there for me, and she cared for me, even if she never really did understand me. She didn't stop me from getting all my besties - Jet Girl, Sub Girl - and that's good."

"I cared more about her than my dad because my dad was a fucking bastard. A right fucking bastard. He left my mom the moment after he fucked her, and that was that. Just her to take care of me. To try and raise me. That is a fucking ordeal, even I know it. I might have had a sister at some point, but I don't think so. My history is incredibly hazy, and the details are changing all the time - like a comic book tends to - but the core bits are there, and the core bit is that I fucking hate my fucking goddamn piece of shit dad."

"My mom hated him too, and I guessed tried to raise me right because he was such a shitbag? I don't know. She tried to keep me from going into the army, and she didn't like it when I called myself 'Tank Girl' sometime around then."

She called herself that.

But that's all she was saying regarding the name.

"Anyway. After my mom died, she became damn near insufferable. Hated my dad so much she started to haunt me from beyond the grave. My life, essentially, turned into a fucked up version of the Odyssey, yeah? My mom was trying to find where his soul was hiding so she could get revenge on him, and was tasking me to do it. Wouldn't give me a moment's peace."

"Turned out his soul wasn't in the afterlife because he wasn't dead yet. I fixed that."

Took another big swig of the scotch.

Then another.

"I'm not sure how much of that story is true anymore, or for how long any of it will be."

"The details change, like I said."

"But my mom was a good person, who got fucked up by the wrong circumstances. A shithead for a man, and me for a kid. Hell to put up with. I don't really blame her for getting so wet for vengeance. Was annoying, though."

"And that is - partially, at least - why I use protection all the time, every time."

And one last chug.

"So there you have it. Though that was more about my dad, wasn't it?"

He took in ever scrap of information as it came, filing it away for the later, as he always did. There was a bit of resentment in Tank's voice -- which was, all told, particularly understandable when it came right down to it -- but, and this was key, Lucifer almost detected something else. Something more human than rage, than the spontaneity and personal codes of honor that kept Tank going day after day, moment after moment.

He took a swig of scotch, and then: "It was, yes."

But he said nothing more. Though Lucifer knew that she did not regret what she had done, he had the feeling that the entire story wasn't quite as plain as she was making it out to be. There was...something there. Something real, and he almost had a chance at seeing it.

He wouldn't press, however. They'd come to accordance with that long, long ago.

Another swig.

"I imagine the haunting stopped once your father died, eh?"

"Yeah. I got to go back to having the nice life with me and Booga, she was off my case. Booga and I got married, a good deal later, when we were trying to find his long lost brother. So my only official family right now is a bunch of kangaroos. Go figure."

She chuckled at this. Her step-brother was a kangaroo. That was even weirder than marrying one, she thought.

Wiped her mouth.

"Anyway. That makes it my turn to ask you a question, doesn't it?"

She didn't ask it yet, though.

She seemed to be storing it away. Saving it, for the prime moment.

"Better a marsupial than an angel, I assure you."

He eyed her while he finished off the bottle, a look of incredulity slowly spreading across his face. When he finished, he set the bottle down and flicked it, hard, shattering the thing so that it would reform into a tiny glass candle holder.

All that was left to do was wait, after that.

"Probably. That Aziraphale guy was nice - and made great tea - but, good lord, more boring than dry toast."

Then she rapped her fingers against the bar.

Did it exactly ten times.

"I said you weren't going to like the question."

Five more times.

"And I'm still pretty sure you aren't going to."

Once more.

"Which is why I have to ask it."

Done.

Inhale. Exhale. Speak.

"You want me, don't you."

Said plainly, forward, with not a single stutter.

He hadn't been expecting it. Not from Tank, of all people. At first, Lucifer went deathly, unnaturally still, his entire body frozen in time for a moment while he processed what she had just asked.

Did he want her?

Did he want her?

The question tumbled down the corridors of his mind and upended every other thought it came across, rendering him quite and irrecoverably speechless for a full ten seconds.

Then came the machinations, the thoughts of how he could use this, how he could build up off of this moment, this declaration of a paradigm shift he was all too used to toying with and exploiting. A flash of Mazikeen as a child, holding her brother's knife, her face cast in a snarl, came to him then, unbidden, and left just as quickly as it came.

This was a moment like none other. A time to either harness what was given to him, or let it fall by the wayside. She could have been -- he could have made her into a tool, a thing to be used and adored and feared.

But.

The Morningstar cleared his throat.

"Say that again?" he asked, his countenance hardening to become a sandblasted mask of unaffected stoicism.

She reminded him too much of Mazikeen.

Too much.

Didn't respond immediately.

He heard her, he understood her, she knew it, he knew it, fucking Jesus Lion on the other side of the city knew it.

She looked at him, letting her eyes half lid, an eyebrow quirking. Did she manage to fuck with the devil's head? Really? She knew he wasn't going to like it, but this was something else.

He actually wanted her to repeat the question.

She reached back over the counter again.

"I said -"

Pulled back red wine this time.

Uncorked it unceremoniously.

"You want me, don't you. I said that exactly."

Drank it like it was a water bottle.

He wanted to make sure, to make it absolutely clear in his mind that those words, in that exact order, had come from her mouth.

Tank, who took whatever she thought was hers without asking and somehow made it right.

Tank, who took nothing from anyone, who embodied the concept to bravery and grandstanding idiocy in the same breath.

Tank, who did not care what others thought of her, so long as they did not infringe on her own quality of life.

Tank, who he trusted to remain herself in any situation moreso than any other mortal in this City.

And here she was, asking him a question some headstrong Catholic schoolgirl would to her older target of affection.

He quirked the corner of his lips into a small, amused smile.

"Do I want you?" he repeated, purposeful and slow.

Oh lord.

He was off in some other world in his head, wasn't he?

Well, depending on how he answered, this was going to be hell for him.

Hee. 'Hell'.

Still, if the question itself scrambled his neurons, then her response to his answer - depending on that answer - was likely to be even less kind to his brain.

"I'm not repeating it a third time."

Looked him straight in the eye.

He laughed at how serious she was being. How -- and why -- had this question formed in her brain, he wondered? What made it so important to know, that she would sacrifice the chance to know anything else to get it?

He matched her gaze with one of his own, still smiling a mischievous, oddly amused smile.

"You honestly want to waste your question on such a trifling thing?"

He was stalling, yes, but part of Lucifer honestly wanted to see how far he could push her.

"We'll have more games. I will win some. You'll have to answer some of my questions, just like I'll have to answer some of yours."

"And, I thought it was obvious since we met - I'm not interested in bullshit like 'the meaning of life'."

"So. Are you going to see how many times we can just sit here talking about the question itself, or are you going to answer it."

"It was a rather interesting back and forth."

A beat.

"--Though," he added, already knowing how she would react to hearing the following: "I never said either of us would have to answer right this moment, if I recall correctly."

"So what you're saying is..."

Tank paused, then spent as long as it took to finish the whole bottle.

"You're not going to answer me today."

"I wouldn't have to, no."

"Wouldn't have to, and isn't going to - two very different things. And right now you seem to be getting a stiffy for stalling, even on not answering whether or not you'll answer a question."

"Cutting through the shit, you're just plain not going to answer anytime soon."

Lucifer inhaled, then exhaled. Slowly.

"No."

What exactly did she want from him?

Then - something odd happened.

Tank started giggling.

And she couldn't stop.

She was giggling, and then she was chuckling and then she was laughing.

She was full out, 'BWA-HA-HA' laughing.

Laughing so hard that her hand was hitting the bar, shaking everything on it.

Laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Finally, she got it a little more under control, where she reduced it back to just giggling.

"H-hey... Hey, hee hee hahaHAHAHAHahaha, shit, hey! Lucifer." She said, sucking in a breath, trying to get a firmer grip.

"Guess what."

Yes, that was the calculated response. He hadn't expected her to laugh so uncontrollably, however.

"What."

This would be interesting.

"You said you weren't going to answer the question."

"But you just did."

And then she started laughing again.

"Mhm."

She would be insufferable after this.

A bit more laughing, until she finally regained full control of her mouth.

Still looking Lucifer dead in the eye.

"You know, you're a nice guy. I have a lot of fun with you. We can talk about anything, and that's great. You're a fantastic friend."

She leaned in closer, closing more of the gap. That unblinking, smirking stare becoming more and more of all Lucifer would be able to see.

"You're a blast. But the fact of the matter is..."

She pursed her lips, and kissed -

On his forehead.

"... I'm too mortal for you."

Tank had just turned him down.

Wasn't this supposed to be the other way around, just a minute ago?

He. Blinked. Lucifer the Fallen, Son of Morning, who had helped shape Creation and everything that dwelt inside of it simply. Simply sat there and blinked.

Had she just--

And had he just--

And then had she just--

A bucket of ice cold water materialized in Lucifer's hand, coalescing from both ambient air molecules and the steel making up the bar top itself. Without preamble, he stood up, turned after grabbing the bucket between both hands, and upended its contents over Tank Girl's head.

Edited 2010-05-14 03:47 (UTC)

Tank didn't stop smiling.

Her head and chest soaked, she still kept laughing, madwoman that she was.

"You really are a great friend."

Shaking her head free of what water she could, she then stood up, still matching eye to eye, even if Lucifer had something at least close to a foot on her.

Just. Soaking wet. And smiling about it all.

"Well. That uses up my question."

"You're insufferable," he breathed, closing his eyes as he tried not to heave his sigh. The bucket hung off of his fingers next to him, dripping water onto the linoleum floor.

"Says the guy who loves it."

Ran a hand through her rainbow colored hair, flipping it all back.

"As if you'd like me if I was anything less, anyway."

Let that sink in for a moment.

"Well, pretty sure I ruined your mood, now. We'll hang later though, yeah?"

Turned away from him, still in her delighted little mood. Checking off more things on her 'to do before I die' list.

"You call me or I'll call you. Either or."

And walking towards the exit of the Lux.

He rolled his eyes and took his usual place at the bar, turning his chair so that he could watch her exit the Lux without so much as a goodbye. All the while, chairs shifted and moved of their own volition, filling in the gap between them both as tables and other pieces of furniture that had been pushed aside at last morning's closing followed suit.

"By your leave."

As she walked away, the Morningstar decided, quite confidently, that he rather enjoyed watching Tank go.

Stopped at the last moment. Turned around.

Put on her 'I'm gonna be a huge jerk and you're gonna love it' face.

"I should go chat up Del. Told her I was gonna learn a good secret, y'know?"

Back to laughing wildly.

And right out the door.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

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