2019-10-09 - Charlie's Angels (or Demons?)

It's not unusual to see an ambulance parked outside Espresso Yourself, first responders need their caffeine fixes after all. What is unusual is that the Blonde behind the wheel isn't kitted out for a day on the job, and according to the roster, Bennie's on medical leave for another two weeks yet. So she did indeed 'borrow' the rig, or merely nonchalantly grab the keys off the dispatch desk and help herself. This won't take long, they won't even miss it, she reasons.

Bennie's partially slunk down behind the driver's wheel so that she's barely visible from the windows, dressed in a dark gray sweater dress with a turtleneck, her bare knees are hitched to either side of the steering column where her black boots don't quite cover the tops of her shins. Her phone is bounced nervously in her palm, waiting the supposed ten minutes for Sutton to arrive.

Sutton jogs around the bend and up to the Foggy Bluffs Strip Mall wearing a hoodie, not hers, a ball cap, not hers, short blue running shorts and a pair of barefoot running shoes. She's a little sweaty, but not too bad, considering she'd just started her run when Bennie texted her. A pair of earbuds are tucked into her ears. When she sees Medic 24 she glances around, takes a turn, and slinks along the side.

The passenger door to the rig pops open and Sutton hops on in, pulling it closed behind her. "Hey, babe." She's a little winded, but it shouldn't take long for that to settle. "What are we getting into?" She's not worried. It's their rig. They clean it and maintain it. Sure, the el-tee might have some words if it's noticed missing, but there are plenty of excuses for that.

Bennie's hiding her face behind an oversized pair of sunglasses, that alone should mark this as the beginning of Buddy Paramedic Crime Caper. Her face barely turns in Sutton's direction as her partner slips into shotgun and she quickly hisses, "Get down." As if this isn't a small town and a dozen eyes are already trying to get their gossip on.

"I need your help, no questions asked. Okay. Some questions are allowable, because I have about fifty million and fair is fair, right?" She reaches between them to where her hobo bag style purse is in a heap and after a few seconds of rummaging, she comes up with a tiny dime bag of white powder. "First, what do you know about this stuff?"

Sutton slinks down immediately, like her spine is attached to Bennie's sibilant hiss. Slooop like a bendy piece of cheese, she slides low in the seat, her knees going under the dash her side. There's a lengthy pause when Bennie asks about no questions, etc, and then pulls out a baggie of what is assuredly some kind of drug. "It's very, very bad for you, most likely. And it's either synthetic sweetener, cocaine, or heroin." All in the same boat as far as she's concerned. "Are you using or is someone you love using? I have some rapid field tests in my motel room." She may have stolen those from the PD. "Do you need to test it to figure out which it is, or do you know?"

"I already know it's cocaine, I'm the one that bought it. So I just...snort it right? Like in the movies? Get a mirror and a razor blade and push it into little lines and with a rolled up dollar bill, I," SNIFFF Bennie intimates with a sharp inhale while pinching one of her nostrils shut. "Is it going to burn? How long is it going to last?" Bennie, fish out of water here when it comes to illegal drugs. No matter the fact that she's been abusing legal ones for some time now.

Well isn't this a conundrum. Sutton sits there staring at Bennie for a long moment, her wheels turning. Muscles in her jaw jump briefly when she clenches her jaw, but relaxes a beat later. "Cocaine is always cut, you never know how much or what with, which means you're also snorting whatever some fuckwit in a basement looking to make a shitton more profit put into it. There's always a chance some homicidal fucksock dropped a little fentanyl in to see how that changes the party, because that's what all the cool kids are doing with their heroin and their pot these days."

Sutton's delivery is calm enough, but there's a subtext. "You can rub it into your gums, snort it, whatever. Fastest high is a snort. It probably will make you sniffly and sneeze. Habitual overuse can erode your sinuses and soft tissue. Low doses can make you feel more focused for a short time. The high is brief. Rapid heart rate, increased alertness, maybe fifteen minutes. Prolonged use can cause heart failure, kidney damage, high blood pressure, psychotic episodes, hallucination, and it changes the way your brain processes chemicals, making it highly addictive to the point of depression and suicide attempt in withdrawal. In the short term, paranoia, anxiety, and hostility aren't out of the question." Just ask de la Vega.

Sutton has a lot of thoughts on cocaine. "Can I ask why you're considering a trip down the ski slope?"

Sutton can no doubt feel the eyeroll from behind Bennie's dark glasses if not exactly see the expression beyond her eyebrows doing the wave in tandem. "I know the textbook version of the ins and outs, and don't worry. I trust the source. I only need it the once, then I'm planning on having someone burn it out of my system." She flicks the little packet held between forefinger and thumb with her middle one, like she's getting ready just to add sweetener to her coffee.

"Fifteen minutes. That should be enough." She contemplates with a brief bite of her lip, then instead of answering Sutton's question, she leads with another, "Can I borrow some handcuffs?" Sure, she could probably check some out from equipment, but that leads to a whole host of other issues. Like a papertrail.

"Babe. Are you getting high so you can fuck your sometime-psychotic boyfriend on a coke induced high so you don't flinch when he touches you?" Sutton's making a logical leap there, but you know what kind of week it's been? This kind of week. This it the kind of week it's been.

Sutton runs her hand through her hair and says, "I'll spare you the rest of my what the fuck lecture and say, cut a straw and use it, money is dirty. Espresso should have some. I need a fucking chai latte." She reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Now why would she have those in there? She holds them out balanced on the tip of her finger. "These are my favorite ones. Do not lose them."

"Um." Bennie's hand reaches out to snag the cuffs from their dangle. "Something like that. I'll fill you in on the rest when you get back. Get me a mocha!" Because it's Bennie and a little sunshine is to seep out somewhere through the cracks.

"Trust me when I say the handcuffs alone are enough, if it's the motel beds, you'll need two pair. No bars in the headboards. Gotta T-loop them through the crossbeam under the mattress." Sutton's just full of useful information. She gives Bennie another look, an appraising one, her hazel eyes intent. "Mocha. Got it." She pops open the door, slides out, and shoves the door behind her.

Yes, she did just discuss cocaine use with her work-wife and hand over some handcuffs for an as yet undisclosed clandestine usage of same. Normally, there would have been more questions, but as we have learned, questions are sometimes their own reward.

Sutton disappears inside Espresso Yourself to fetch a couple of drinks.

By the time Sutton pops open the door again to deliver their caffeine pick me up, she's greeted by a whole host of questions. "Is that where Easton is? The motel? And if one pair won't work on the bed, what about in the bathroom or something? If not, I'll need a second pair. And probably keys would help, and do you have a gun I could borrow? Not loaded. Unless it looks different when it's not loaded. Blanks! What about blanks?" Maybe Bennie doesn't need that mocha afterall, but she is making grabby hands for it.

Sutton returns not long later, a cup in either hand, having tipped the barista a healthy little bit not to ask why they're in the rig in street clothes. It's a big glass window, after all. She balances the cups and jumps back in, handing one over.

Ha ha fuck. she just told one of the pair where the other is. "Uh, yeah. I ..." She stops when Bennie asks after a gun. "Bennie. If you want a gun from me, you're going to have to spill way more details. Drugs are one thing. Handcuffs are one thing. Guns are just leveling up." Does she have access to guns? Yes she does. Three of them, in fact, all laid out on the table in room 14.

"I just need to make sure he'll listen and answer me truthfully. It's just a scare tactic, really, because I'm not certain that he'll take me seriously if I threaten to break his bones. I mean, I don't even like doing that to the bad guys much less...much less.. Ugh." Bennie growls before she takes a sip of her mocha, immediately fanning her open mouth. "Hot. Hot. Hot." Yes, this is Blonde who intends to pull off a heist of epic proportions. All prayers are welcome.

"So the plan is, I have him handcuff himself to...whatever, so he's not inclined to try to touch me. Dose up with a little Nose Candy Courage, and then have it out. A fifteen minute window is about all I need, but if I'm in there longer than thirty...I dunno. Call the National Guard or something."

Sutton sits there sipping her iced chai latte through a straw. Even with the chill in the air, she always gets iced (unless it snows). "He's a solider, love. He's a soldier who lost his leg. He's seen a lot of shit. He knows you're not going to shoot him." She's still assuming Easton is the 'he' here, of course. She would be very, very wrong. "And in his current state, there's a reasonably good chance he might actually want you to shoot him."

She sits there in silence for a while facing Bennie. "The other night, I came back to my motel room and Javi had taken an intentional overdose. I had to Narcan him. I had to Narcan him twice." She shifts in her seat. "He left me a note. A note. He took enough opiates that his heart was maybe a minute from stopping when I found him in the dark. If I'd paused to have a chat with anyone, if I'd decided to go out for a drink, I would have walked into my motel room and found my lover dead in the bed we share." She sips in a pause in speaking, swallows hard, and finishes, "When he finally woke, he tried to kill me. We destroyed the room and he cracked my ribs, put his hands around my throat. I was lucky and knocked him out, and handcuffed him to the sink the rest of the night. The only reason I'm sitting here right now looking fit is because Erin Addington, who thinks she's his secret mistress, healed me with magic."

"Right. No guns." Bennie nods firmly, a wrinkle forming just above the bridge of her glasses with the resolution. As Sutton lets the silence set in, Bennie goes back to tentatively sipping her mocha. Nope. Too hot. How about now? Nope.

But then Sutton is unloading with her shift mate and work wife confidant and what little glimmer of Bennie's sunshine that had been renewing fades as Sutton's story almost mirrors her own. "Okay first, ew. Shame on Erin for scamming on your boo. Seriously. Not cool. I have been so nice to her since she broke it off with Geoff but now I just might have to frown at her next time I see her." Which is probably the full extent of Bennie's ire for someone she's displeased with. Fear the wrath of the frown. "Second..."

Bennie hasn't touched a single soul since the 'incident', which for a person like her, so hellbent that personal bubbles don't exist, is sort of major. But now, a skittish looking hand braves the gap between them and goes to Sutton's knee ever so lightly, as if she might jump back immediately at any sudden moves. "Oh sugarbuns, I'm so so sorry. And I get to say that because it's not sympathy. It's some twisted fucked up version of camaraderie. If Easton hadn't come to his senses, I think the next moment would have been him summoning a knife and slicing my throat in our own bed." She tries to banish the emotion and the bile rising in her throat with a little clearing of it, but it only makes her next words sound hoarse. "I'm glad you were there. I'm glad you saved him, but I wish you wouldn't've had to go through that."

Sutton leans against the seat sideways, still facing Bennie. "I'm not mad at Erin. I knew about her from the start. And it's not like Javi and I are monogamous. He's gone through some serious trim." Sip. "I mean, I have a couple lovers too. It's more the thinking she was his mistress and acting weird that got to me a little. I was like come on, cutie, I know. Please breathe."

At Bennie's ire, she laughs softly. "Love, you don't have to frown at her. I already told her the nice way not to be a shady bitch. Own it."

Sutton doesn't move quickly, but one latte-chilled hand does creep along her leg to lightly touch the back of Bennie's hand, unless she pulls back suddenly. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry it happened to us, because you're spun sugar and steel, and Easton is your honey-baby, and he's going to torture himself and it's hard to look at man once he's had his hands around your throat." She pauses, swallows again. "I'm glad you didn't have to find a knife. And that he snapped out of it, and I'm so so sorry you two had to go through that together."

Has anyone died from these rage spikes? Sutton doesn't know, but EMS hasn't gotten involved that she's heard of. "Javier will barely look at me. The handcuffs help. He can't hurt you if he can't reach you." She glances down, clearing her throat. "If you need some help with Easton, I'll help you. If you think an unloaded gun will help, I can give you one assembled that looks legit, but won't fire. It's lighter unloaded, but he wouldn't notice that unless he got it in his hands."

Slowly Bennie turns her hand over beneath Sutton's so she can cling to her friend's with a curl of her fingers. "He can still hurt me plenty even if he's handcuffed, unless these somehow have the ability to hamper him mentally picking up a shampoo bottle and beating me over the head with it, but it'll be the sincere urge to touch and console me I'm actually petrified of. And he'll be too busy trying to make it up to me to give me the answers I need. So okay. Back to the gun option. Thank you, for all of this. I know it's a lot to ask, and I'll feel better knowing that your close? You guys are staying at the motel too? Just a bellow away, right?"

Sutton's fingers wrap around Bennie's hand and she gives her a squeeze when their hands interlock. "Aw, pet. Mine doesn't have that... um." She shakes her head, not sure what to call it. Issue? Ability? "Complication." She nods. "Yes, I'm in room 14 with... well. Not with Javi right now. He disappeared last night. I think he's staying in the woods somewhere — after he tried to hurt me again..." She shakes her head. "Anyway, I'll be there, you yell. There's only a few open rooms and I think most of them are a few away from me."

"I know what you mean. The pain they feel, the want to make it better, like they're afraid to touch you and you're kind of afraid to let them. It's awful. It's way worse than surprise STDs."

"Our boys have the worst STD in history of man: Billy Herpes. Don't worry, this will all be over soon." Bennie says resolutely before she leans forward to give Sutton's cheek a little air kiss. "Now scoot, I have to get this rig back before there is a real emergency and I have to respond looking like one of Charlie's Angels. I'll swing my your room at the Motel to get the last of what I need before I go in."

"Ghost-herpes are the worst. Billy, what an asshole." Sutton smiles a little when Bennie cheek-kisses. "I know, the funeral." She hesitates like she might say something else, then reaches for the door handle. "I'll be home in a little bit. Just knock, room 14, when you're ready for the other provisions." The gun, the extra set of cuffs, the key. She nods. "Okay." There's a smile like this isn't the worst idea in the history of ideas they've had yet. "Be safe, babe." And out of the rig goes one of the blondes, tucking her earbuds into her ears.

She'll hang around long enough to finish her latte, then hoof it the long way 'round back to the motel. Gonna need a long run today. Lots of nervous energy to burn.