(Closed) Valentine is done, here and now they're gone

[summertimeblues]

Who: Richie Tozier (summertimeblues) & Sandra the Unseeing (tutorb)
What: Two sad old people drinking wine, that's kind of a date right
When: Mid-march
Where: Inside Sandra's crystal ball because that's possible i guess, what is pyre. also it's in Olympia
Warning(s): Uncertain...will update if anything needs updating, we're winging this

Comments

[tutorb]

Please, you may be a garden of roses for the other senses, but your face is long enough, I do not need such a mental image. [ Taking the proffered bottle in one eager hand, she disentangles the other to feel up the side of his neck and give his cheek a proper pat before setting to work on the cork. ]

I do not think could not say. By this point, I have surely lost all taste for the stuff.

[ After all, her nose may be good, but it's been deadened and accustomed to nothing but the sober scent of smoke and ash that permeates the realm. As soon as the cork comes loose, the whole plethora of scents strikes like a punch, sharp but sweet and delightfully new again. It isn't entirely without a pinch of enthusiasm that she takes the glass and carefully splashes a measure into the bottom half of it, before passing the bottle off. ]

You deserve a proper toast for all this, Richie, this deserves savoring, but you will excuse my impatience, [ she says softly, before knocking back a healthy swig, her brow furrowing at the ill-remembered twinge of alcohol before almost laughing into the drink. Red or white, cheap or exquisite, it doesn't matter. Compared to smoke and ash, it tastes incredible. ]

[summertimeblues]

Long? [Since when? By whose definition? He takes the cheek pat sportingly before giving a light scoff.] You need to double check it, then, my face is a perfectly average length and shape. We whipped out the measuring tape at the doc's and everything, and he said "Yessir, that's a regular man's face, by gosh and by golly." I demand a retest. Even if you slap me again!

[He had planned to toast, of course. It's the way of things, marking momentous occasions with chintzy clinks. Yet when she pops the cork and throws it back, he finds himself altogether unbothered. Richie bursts out laughing, then gives her a hoot and a holler, a round of applause.]

Coming 'round for the victory glug is the one and only Sandra the Slam Dunker! Watch closely now, she's pounding back the Shiraz with her trademark move: the one thousand year fast! Nobody before and nobody since will match that effortless grace of not having a solitary fuck to give!

[He peels off the sports recap with a two fingered whistle.

Man, what a woman.]

[tutorb]

[ By the definition of someone who's only had their own soft, round face to touch for centuries, probably. At the tail end of her drink and the tail end of his speech, she can't help a scoff of her own, though it's a jovial one, try as it might to be exasperated. But she can't quite quell the tip of her tongue as she waves off his blustering with a, ]

Oh, beep beep, will you.

[ It was something, as she understood it, that had crept onto her tongue the more she pried. Something like a lid, a stopper, a muzzle among friends when one such trashmouth ought to quit running. But she'll reach out and oblige him again, not with a slap, but a hand laid flat to the side of his face, fingers tracing the crinkles round his eyes, thumb brushing the dumb laugh lines around his lips, ]

Well perhaps if you would unclench that shit-eating grin once in a while, the world would realize how long it is.

[ With her hand still stationed, it finds the crook of his jaw, pulling him closer, tipping his chin to turn his attention to— ] Now shall we share this properly? [ —their glasses. ]

[summertimeblues]

[um

please rewind for a sec]

Beep beep? [He pulls back some, blinking. What the fuck? If it had just been something like, oh, say, calling him Trashmouth, he could pass it off as her own invention. Inside joke that may be, but it was an obvious conclusion to draw when it came to his vernacular. Beep beep was pretty far down the list of creative ways to say shut up, and Sandra was from a land (presumably) where there was nary a car horn in sight. So how...

He takes the face patting in the midst of his stupefaction. She's pulling at his chin to draw his focus back to the glasses, the wine. He wets his lips.

All right. Not a big deal. It's probably nothing. Maybe Akira told her about it, he'd beeped him when they went on their little trip for Voss.]

Yeah. Sure. [He pulls out of her grip, shooting her one last perplexed glance and fetches the wine for himself. He tops her glass up first, then his.]

How much can you actually tell about me just by patting around? I've always wondered...it seems pretty weird, seeing through your fingertips.

[tutorb]

[ yeah, what. ]

That is what you say, is it not? [ The royal you. It's what is always said to Richie, from the little she's gleaned, but it could be what Richie says to Akira as well. The disbelief was tangible beneath her fingers, slackening his jaw, but her own smile remains placid even as he pulls away. ] I can tell quite a lot about you, frankly. Though I would hesitate to call this seeing.

[ That... That's Reading. It's true, his face stands out in a delightfully mappable topography, but really, so would the scales of a sea creature, the knots in a slab of wood, the vicious spines of a desert plant. Anything besides the smooth, textureless floor stands out like a sensory symphony, even just skin that is not her own, warm and worn by years she'll never see. It just so happens that his face is the first thing in centuries she has been invited to touch, when he took and pressed her icy palm to the hollow of his cheek. ]

I believe I have rather lost my grip on how anything should look, by now, let alone a face. My fingers lend me little insight. [ Maybe it's just nice to touch things (to be allowed to touch things) but that's neither here nor there. Her glass filled, Sandra folds to the floor with grace to sit upon her knees. It probably isn't much comfier than standing, but it seems like the better of the two spots to enjoy a drink. She raises her own as if to coax him down to clink it. ] Well? What shall we toast to? Perhaps we could double up our wishes on your health, since mine is hardly in question.

[summertimeblues]

[Richie's mouth twists, both amused and a touch sore for her sake.] Well as long as my melodious tones are coming through loud and clear, you've got the best of me anyway. [He (perhaps too boldly) tugs at the lobe of her left ear, grin slapped back on.] I ever tell you what I do for a living? Or did, rather. I wasn't always wiping bartops, you know.

[He raises his glass in kind, humming after the thought.] Oh, hang my health. Let's drink to the weird universe. The worlds might be winking out, but it brought a bunch of absolute misfits like us together. I never thought I'd meet someone like you, Sandy. [He clinks his glass to hers and takes a sip when she does, pulling off with a satisfied sigh.] Come on. Race you to the bottom of the bottle, baby. Let's swap some stories and liven up this joint a bit.