2019-07-06 - Of blouses and boyfriends

It's late. Then again, when is it not late in a place like The Pourhouse? It's past the hour that most of the young 'party goers' have stumbled off to do something stupid elsewhere -- leaving behind the sort that are there to get cold hard drunk. There's a new face among them tonight, and one that doesn't even bother trying to 'blend'. That's the kind of thing you give up doing when you turn your body into a coloring book of needles, or your hair a shade that manages to capture the silver sheen that lingers so tenuously between white and grey.

Lex is dressed in black cargo pants, equally dark stomper boots, and -- surprise! -- a black tank. The word 'NOPE.' is printed across the front of the tank in bright red, and the sentiment seems to fit the tattooist's actual demeanor.

She's claimed the stool at the far side of the bar, leaving only one seat open beside her. An empty seat, at the moment. A half dozen shot glasses are arranged in a neat line in front of her, and black-painted nails are tapping loudly on the countertop as she stares at the barkeep. Waiting, yet again, for another drink. And not terribly patiently.

Bars are supposed to be off limits. She's supposed to be drying out, and supposed to be on the wagon. Staying sober. Doing all the good things that responsible people do when they are wanting to do that clean living thing.

Why is Baylee here? Who knows.

When she wanders through the door she's wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a pair of knee-high suede heeled boots, a simple sheer tank top and a light jacket over it. She is stone cold sober as she makes her way in, looking around until she spots the free stool that is next to Lex. There's no hesitation before she heads towards that stool, sliding onto it before she lifts a hand, waving towards the bartender to get their attention, "Oi!" She calls, making certain that she's got their attention, and as soon as they wander over she gives them a brilliant smile, "Mind if I get a coke, love?"

Just a coke. No rum. No whiskey. Nothing else.

Oh, sure, the hot British chick gets their attention. Lex's eyes narrow at the barkeep that's wandered over at Baylee's behest, and while he's within hearing distance, she's outright pointing at one of the empty shot glasses. "Just give me the fucking bottle, would you?" It seems that Lex is on an entirely different wagon.

Her drink demand made, it's time for jade eyes to trail toward the woman who has so casually deposited herself on the adjacent stool. Surely there were other places to sit? And considering the distinct scent of marijuana that hangs stubbornly to Lex's hair, maybe more... pleasant places. Then again, maybe exposure to drunk drug addicts is some part of Baylee's Clean and Sober Plan (TM)?

"Unless you plan on snorting that coke, gorgeous... you're probably in the wrong place." Despite the line-up of shot glasses, there's no slur to the woman's words. Just wry amusement, overlaying something that seems more... tired.

There are small favors in being hot. And British anywhere outside the UK. That accent wins sometimes, even when people aren't even trying. Baylee probably doesn't even think about the fact that for some people that is a double-whammy. Or that it might irritate someone else that she gets the attention as easily and as fast as she does.

"Last I check it wasn't any fun snorting this kind of Coke." Baylee points out, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a wallet, fishing out a twenty to slide it across the counter towards the bartender. "Something about the burning of the HFCs in it, I hear." She flashes a smile at the bartender, one that looks like it might be sympathetic for the fact that he's been having to deal with drunk Lex for however long he's been having to deal with her.

"Pretty sure, though, that I'm exactly in the right place. I walked through the door." Baylee twists around, looking around the bar before nodding, "Yeah, this is where I thought I was." Then she turns back towards Lex, offering a hand, "Baylee."

Lex isn't a subtle creature on the best of days. High and half-drunk, her behaviors seem almost... amplified. The glance between Baylee and the barkeep transitions quickly into a glare, which doesn't fade much by the time she looks back to the taller woman. A few moments are spent like that, staring, before she's releasing a hissed breath and then drawing a deeper one. A tattooed hand is extended to take Baylee's, her skin feeling a bit feverish on contact.

"Lex. You the British chick that the Asian guy's staying with? Jay, or James... something J." It may be a bit of a type-cast, but hey, it's a small town. How many Brits can Gray Harbor handle?

Lex.

LEX.

There is possibly more than one Lex in town, right? Maybe not. Maybe it's just the same kind of quick assumption thing that is happening, because the reaction is immediate. The hand is shook, sure, but Baylee's expression seems to shift from being just mildly friendly to the drunk stranger to something a little more focused. Sharper. Her teeth clenching for just a fraction of a second, causing the muscle in her jaw to jump.

"Jay." She replies, reaching for her very boring Coke to pick it up. The swallow that she takes off it is a sure sign that she wishes it were something stronger before she sets it back down, "You Lex, the tattooist that is ....friends with Aidan?"

Well, at least she's not calling her Alexandria or Ms. Falco? Then again, her 'preferred' moniker seems to have drawn an... unexpected response from the other woman. Maybe 'Ms. Falco' would've been the safer option.

As the other woman starts to show signs of something other than peculiar friendliness, Lex herself seems to be sobering a bit. She can't exactly take back the last six shots, but it seems to take more than that to throw the fringe-dweller off her game. Alcohol? Weed? Little leagues, compared to the last six years or so.

"Jay... sounds right." There's a pause as the mention of Aidan, and she's lifting a 'brow as she considers Baylee's approach to the question. Searching the other's face, and smirking only slightly when she gulps the Coke. No numbness there, unfortunately. No warmth to soften the sharper edges. "Yeah. I know Aidan. I'm getting the impression that you know'm a bit better." At least she's not asking Baylee if she's also kown as 'blouse'?

"Should sound right. Unless there's two Asian guys in town with a name that starts with J that live with a British chick." Baylee glances at the Coke, not looking like she's very satisfied with the result of that swallow. The glass is picked up and she moves it away from her before she lifts a hand to get the bartender's attention once more, the way that it's done this time is by pulling her wallet back out, tugging out a credit card to hold up.

Universal signal for 'I want to start a tab'.

Whenever the bartender does get to her the order is simple, "Two shots of tequila and a Corona back." That card is slid over, establishing that whatever wagon she was trying to stay on is currently getting leaped off of at speed. Then she turns her full attention back to Lex, smiling at her, "I'd probably agree that I know Aidan a bit better. I'm at least assuming that would be the case, but who knows. Maybe it'd surprise me."

Lex watches with actual interest as Baylee leaps off her proverbial wagon, the second 'brow raised as she voices her new choice of drink. Apparently 'Lex' has more of an impact than the tattooist expected. That, or she's simply bored enough to study her new acquaintance for the sake of it. ... That's probably not it.

"Nah. I know he feeds ducks, likes milkshakes, and thinks you don't mind if he fucks other girls." It seems that she's transitioned to blunt mode. No talk of blouses, t-shirts, or tank tops. "Pretty sure at least two of those are right... and if the third ain't, you should probably have a nice one to one with him." Blunt and insensitive. Check.

There's a slight snort when Lex informs her that she should really have a nice one on one with Aidan. Baylee waits for the shots to be set down in front of her before she responds in any other fashion, though. The first shot is knocked back, the glass turned upside down, then set down carefully on the bar. "I don't have to have a talk with Aidan."

The second shot is picked up and knocked back before it is also set down carefully on the surface of the bar, neatly tucked in next to the first glass before she picks up her beer. She turns around towards Lex, her elbow settling on the surface of the bar, "But thanks for the advice, even if there's no need for it. So you work for Geoff, or is there some other parlor floating around this town somewhere?"

"Uh, no." Lex's tone is flat as she responds to the woman's question about Geoff. "I rent the booth next to his. Neither of us actually own the place. Think... fancy cubicles, and we both got one at the same place." Her tone remains dry, and while the words themselves may come off as a bit defensive, it doesn't seem to be enough to dredge up any actual spark of irritation. That would require a little more 'give a fuck' than Lex has at the moment.

"It it helps any, I seriously doubt I'll be... seeing him again." Poor Aidan, laden with so many said-but-unsaid pauses. "Or anyone else in this shit hole town." She only stares at the barkeep when he finally brings over the unlabeled bottle that she requested. Seens she's already started a tab. A big one.

"What're you doin' here, anyway? You don't strike me as the... small town kinda girl."

"That how that works?" Baylee has zero idea how it actually works, despite her fair number of tattoos she has probably never asked anyone how they do that. "Like hairstylist."

She gets that. It shows as she watches Lex, lifting her bottle up before she then sets it down, "Why?" She tilts her head very faintly, curiosity crossing her face before she tilts the bottle, gesturing, "Why are you doubting you'll be seeing anyone else in this shit hole town? Pretty sure you don't look like the type to off yourself because of some guy, are you?" But that leaves a whole lot of options, too. "Running away?"

Something that Baylee is pretty damn familiar with, honestly. Which might explain the dodge of the question of why she's here. If Lex knew, at least. Otherwise it probably just looks like she's rude. Maybe.

Hairstylist? The word has her snorting, though it's more a huff of air than an actual sound. A hairstylist with needles. And piercing guns. "Yeah, somethin' like that." She reaches to take the bottle that the barkeep has finally surrendered to her, not bothering with the glasses as she instead takes a swallow from the source itself. Not a stranger to drinking, it would seem.

"Off myself?" That earns another not-quite-laugh. "Fuck. Dealt with way worse shit than any guy, and I'm still here." More or less. Her eyes narrow just a bit as the last question. "More like... going home. I grew up here, but I've been in Seattle for the last... seven years? I'm remembering why it took so long to come back for a visit."

A pause, and then a persistent, "Why are you here?"

"So running away." Baylee nods at that, evidently solidifying her assumption on this, "Why you running away? I doubt it is because of Aidan." Despite the words there is a very slight narrowing of her eyes. Clearly she hopes it isn't because of Aidan.

But that question of why is she here is asked. Again. "Work." She replies, taking another sip from her beer, going a bit slower despite the first two back to back shots that she took. "I decided to come out here and hang my shingle. So far it was an amazing and shitty plan all at once."

"The amazing part will fade, believe me. But it isn't boring, I'll give you that..." No, it's rarely boring when streets implode and buildings have eyes. "What kind of work brings you to a shit down in Washington?" Fair question. There's plenty to be done here... but to actually bring one here?

"And no, it ain't got shit to do with Aidan." She pauses, giving the woman another once over. "You're sparkly." Then, assuming the other knows what 'sparkly' even means, "I keep getting 'lucky' when bad shit goes down. And it seems I got a real bad judge of character."

"I doubt the amazing part will fade. Because if the town gets shitty I'm just going to take the amazing with me." Baylee shakes her head, pushing the bottle of beer a bit away, despite the fact that she's barely even touched it. "Just an urge to come here, couldn't say that I could formulate words around it. Decided to head out of Chicago and go west....ended up here."

Which, she does seem to know what sparkly means because there isn't any hint of confusion on her face at the comment. "How bad of a judge of character?" She leans forward, leaning against her elbow on the bar, "Someone do some shit they weren't supposed to do?"

Lex is actually smirking at Baylee's first statement, and the expression seems -- for once -- to be more out of mirth than mockery. There's a slight nod as she explains her reasoning for... well, being here. It's that topic that Lex is addressing first. "It's... like that. The town, I mean. Even if we don't want it, people like us... just end up here. I guess it's comforting, if your crazy wants company. It's a bitch, if you want the hell outta dodge." Her tone suggests that she's prefer the latter. The bottle of unlabeled liquor is tipped back again, and then set on the bar with a heavy clunk before turning a more scrutinizing look on Baylee.

"Honestly? Only person you should trust is yourself, and sometimes even that's a gamble. ... Someone did what I should've known they'd do. So I guess it's less about character, and more about... life choices. You planning on staying in town?"

"I'm not planning on leaving town." Which is mostly the same thing, right?

There is a glance towards the bottle, then Baylee's eyes focus on Lex's face, "Well, seems like that's a shit choice, then. But we're all flawed, and we all are going to make mistakes, and maybe it was just a mistake. Since I'm lacking any kind of profound context on what exactly the matter was. Unless someone hit you, then that was just a shitty person doing a shitty thing, and if you need their kneecaps broken, I know someone."

There's an actual laugh from the mostly-drunk tattooist at Baylee's assessment of the situation. "There's really not much to tell, doll. I'm not really one for the... arrangement you got goin' with Aidan. I liked him... and the gamble didn't turn out too bad." Judging by her tone, it didn't turn out particularly good, either. "I gambled again, and I lost. I dunno. Do you blame the gun, or the one playin' Roulette?"

"I could take care of kneecaps, probably." There's an unnervingly musing quality to that statement. "No. Nobody to kneecap. Just need to figure out if this place still has a motel. The bar's nice and all, but I'd prefer to sleep this off in a bed." Speaking of 'this', she's taking another swallow.

"You can crash at my place. Jay won't mind, and I usually stay at Aidan's place anyways." Baylee replies with a shrug of her shoulders, picking her beer back up to take longer swallow off the beer, then she pauses, "So you tried hooking up with a guy and it went to shit?"

Just to make sure that she's following this story right. "I wouldn't stay in the B&B, though. Fucking owner is a psycho...him and his little ginger cunt. Fuckers set me on fire once.." Which is as crazy as it sounds.

Lex would probably have been less inclined toward staying at a stranger's place -- with another stranger, at that -- were the offer not followed up by an insight into the local B&B. In a town this size, what are the odds that there's more than one? Whether too drunk to shield her expression, or no longer trying, the train of thought passes visibly across her features. In the end, she's drawing a notably deeper breath, and releasing it with an almost resigned wince.

"You sure? I can pay, if you want." A pause, and then she corrects. "I did hook up with a guy, and he turned it to shit. And at the moment, where I live is also where he lives. I'm not real... inclined to go home at the moment, you know?"

"I'm sure. Just try not to mess with my shoes too much." Baylee pulls her phone from her pocket, checking the time before she sends a text message, probably to Jay. "Help yourself to anything else in the place, though. And...it's not anything fancy. So, if you're not big on trailers and stuff..." She trails off a bit, lifting her shoulders upwards in a shrug, "It's clean, and no one'll fuck with you there. Least get your head on straight before you go back for your stuff."

Which causes her to pause, "You know when he's working so you can get your stuff, right? Otherwise I can."

"I grew up in a trailer, darlin'," Lex admits dryly, lifting her bottle of something-or-another in a mock toast rather than another drink. "And... yeah. He works nights... and I'm pretty sure he'll be trying to avoid me as much as I'm trying to avoid him." Her gaze grows unfocused for a moment, before she's willing away the unwanted thought. It's a bit easier now, with something -- someone? -- else to focus on.

"You talkin' about Huckleberry?" Another of those half-amused smirks. "Or did they open someplace new?"

"That would be where I'm talking about." Baylee replies with a nod, lifting her beer up to tilt it back, draining it with the practiced ease of someone who really doesn't do on the wagon well. Then she sets the empty bottle down on the bar, rocking it a bit on the edge of the bottom, "So next night he works you can go and pick up your shit."

Lex follows suit with whatever's left of her own bottled poison, emptying the bottle with a final grimace, and then placing it on the counter with a too-loud thump that earns an irritated look from the barkeep. Lex definitely has something, but it's not Baylee's British charm...

"If you're sure, I'd... appreciate it. I was considering cutting my losses, but I got some stuff there that I'd like to actually... keep." Snorting again, now at herself. "Fuck life choices."

"I'm sure." Baylee replies with a nod, lifting a hand upwards to gesture to the bartender, which is probably imperious considering it is mostly a finger wave to get his attention. "I'll get you set up, show you where the food is at. Then later you can go get your shit. You can take Jay with you, or I can go."

These are the words of experience, right here Baylee has been around the block when it comes to bad breakups, evidently.

Experience. Understanding. It's the sort of thing one doesn't have to voice to still convey, and the look that flickers across Lex's features makes it clear that she appreciates the other woman's... consideration.

"I really appreciate it," she reiterates, and for a change, actually sounds sincere. The second mention of Jay has her 'brows knitting a bit, and he tips her chin a bit as she regards Baylee. "Jay. He another boyfriend?"

"Jay is the guy I cheated on my last boyfriend with." Baylee shakes her head, crossing her legs while she waits on the bartender, and when he comes by she tells him that she wants one more shot and to cash out her tab. "A friend, though. But not my boyfriend. Never has been." She rests her elbow back on the bar, settling her head in her hand, studying Lex, "I mean, he's living with me, we've had sex before. I guess some might call him that? But things between me and him aren't like....say they are between me and Aidan, or anything."

Cheated? That has her blinking for a moment, and then pierced 'brows knit. "I ain't slept with him, but it hasn't been for a lack of him trying." A pause. "Jay, I mean." Not that the identifier was necessary, considering the awkward little interlude with Aidan's shirt. Which she seems to be aware of. "I'm sure as hell not lookin' for a boyfriend, but if he's there and I ain't got a needle in my hand, I should probably check your hands-on-hands-off policy..."

"With Jay?" To clarify which one of the potential males are being asked about. "Jay is his own man, he can do whatever, and whoever, he wants. He's a big boy." She stops to sign her receipt, and leave a tip before sliding it back over, her card being put away, and the next shot being knocked back, "And he won't want to be your boyfriend. He's less inclined to being tied down than....anyone else I know. So, you get the urge, have fun. Bite his ear, he likes that."

Lex smirks at something or another as the Brit offers her description of Jay. "Well... he definitely ain't subtle." A contrast to Baylee's pristine English, Lex's Gray Harbor accent has been bastardized into something raised in the bad side of a city. The sort of accent that one would expect someone who looks like Lex... to have. Happy to meet the stereotype?

"Who knows. Might help... shake things off, you know?" It's hard to tell if she actually expects a response from the other woman, but she's letting the question hang nonetheless.

"Jay? He can be, but usually he's pretty direct." Baylee doesn't appear to be too surprised by Lex's observations about him, eyes shifting towards Lex's empty glasses, and the bottle, "Might shake off the dust, who knows. It'll at least be a good fuck either way."

Pristine English it might be, but she's not really above profanity it seems! Repeated use of it, in fact.

"Shake the dust off what?" Lex counters dryly, giving the other woman a bit of a smirk. "Pretty sure it's not being dusty that started this shit in the first place..." Bottle and glasses empty, Lex is occupying herself by seeing how many of the shot glasses she can stack and in what designs. Needless to say, the barkeep does not look amused. "But it'd be stupid to turn down a good fuck, right?"

"Stupid, yeah." Baylee agrees, glancing up at the bartender to offer them a shrug that is less apologetic than just a whatever gesture. Then she looks back at Lex, "You ready to go back to my place and crash, or you want another drink?"

"I'm done," she determines, after a considering look toward the empty bottle. There's a look toward the barkeep, and after a grudging nod from the man, Lex is sliding off her barstool. She even manages to do so without stumbling! "You mind weed in your place? I'm kinda into it right now."

"Nope, smoke up...do whatever you want. Just not to my shoes." The shoes are precious. Baylee slides to her feet as well, her hands tucking into the pockets of her jeans as she takes a measure of Lex. Up down....she's still on her feet though, so Baylee seems fairly secure in heading for the door.

Both standing, the height disparity is a bit hard to miss. Not that Lex is actually going to acknowledge it. Instead, she's reaching for a black backpack to sling over one shoulder, and a black trench over an arm. "Lead the way."

And out they go, Baylee holds the door open, and then heads off. On foot. Evidently she didn't bother to drive, or she doesn't have a car. Either possibility, though. Either way she starts in the direction of the trailer park.

Even if Lex has some means of transportation, actually using it might not be terribly legal. She has to walk a bit faster to catch up with the taller woman, but she's hardly in the position to complain. A bed is a bed, and the bed Baylee's offering isn't one full of regrets. Ah, the melodrama.

Not yet.

There is always still time!