2019-12-01 - Early Birds Get The Bennie

Some would consider this 'godawful early o'clock' as the sun has barely cracked the sky when there comes a-knocking on Alexander's door. And another knock. "Alexander, open uuuuuuup." The Blonde pitches dangerously close to hitting her head on the door as she tries to see the wrong way through the peep hole, opening up one eye rather large as if that would help. "I know you're in there, I can hear you frowning!" And then she's covering the see-through completely with her mouth, cheeks puffing up, so if it wasn't dark in there, he'd see her molars.

Alexander is up. He doesn't sleep much at the best of times, and let's face it, Gray Harbor is never the best of times. Isolde isn't back from New York just yet, so he's stretched out on the couch, reading a thick book on victimology, with the cat sprawled on the back of the couch, her floofy tail drooping down every once in a while to cover up his face. He's just pushing it out of the way of his eyes (again) when there's the knocking on the door. Luigi gives a sleepy chirp from his cage, but then sticks his head back under his wing as Alexander stands up and makes his way to the door.

When he opens it, he is indeed frowning, in his worn sweatshirt and pants. "Bennie? It's very early. Is everything all right?"

When Alexander opens the door, Bennie straightens up looking blearily surprised. "Oh, hi." The h of her greeting comes out like she's speaking yiddish, with a little throat sound that's a little harsh. She's dressed...rather oddly in a pair of work boots she hasn't bothered to tie and a dress. And pants that are pulled up beneath the skirt that's tucked in at odd places. And she's drenched.

She swings an over stuffed white trash bag down off one shoulder and her hobo bag purse off the other with an, "Ugh." And then she straightens as best as possible. "Good day sir, I come to you, a humble carpet bagger," The words slur together so it comes out more 'crpitbaggr' "Wondering if I might perchance trouble your...your awesomeness for a temprarry place which I. Might. Lay my head." Oh yes, the blonde is drunk. So very drunk.

There's a moment where Alexander just takes in the sight that Bennie presents, blinking a bit muzzily. He seems to be looking for injuries. Finding none, he reaches out and - if she allows - takes her by the arm, guides her inside, and closes the door behind her. "Did you walk here, Bennie?" His voice is gentle, and although he's clearly deeply curious, he's guiding her towards the couch rather than demanding information. He also attempts to grab the bags and put them somewhere off to the side.

Bennie has no issue being guided inside, in fact she probably needs it as she promptly trips over the threshold. "Yup!" She chirps, "Funny. Funny though it took me all night. I just sort of wandered around and around." And apparently found a liquor store. "And then for like haffa second I couldn't remmer - oh thanks," Her story interrupted when he takes her bags, "Where you lived? And then I was like AHA! And so here I am. You're so, so sweet." It's not as if she really remembers he doesn't like to be touched when she's in this state, so she attempts to pat his cheek.

Alexander has already rolled for Bennie's touchy tendencies, so he bears the pat on the cheek with only a little flinch as he steadies her on the way to the couch and sits her gently down. Blue Bell stands up and moves to the other end of the couch, watching the proceedings. And judging. So much judging. Alexander checks to make sure there's not a dead body or something in the plastic bag, then puts it off to the side. "Here you are. It's good to see you." It even seems sincere, if a bit worried. "You've been drinking. Would you like some coffee? Or I could make some breakfast to soak some of that up?"

When the soggy Bennie is sat on the couch, she sort of deflates into a puddle of mopey blonde. Nope, there is no dead body in the bag, just a hodgepodge of feminine belongings all stuffed together in there in apparent haste. "It's good to see me too." With no clue she got that wrong. She just owns it. "You know what I need, I need...I need s'more tequila." She pitches forward and nearly falls flat on her face, instead going to all fours on the floor with a little, "Whoopsie." Maybe she'll just crawl to her purse. Crawling seems safer.

Alexander looks down into the bag. "Hm." It's thoughtful, and he cuts a sidelong look towards her as she starts to pitch forward. As she goes down onto all floors on the carpet, he kneels to try and gently pick her up and put her back on the couch. "Sit. Stay. And no, you don't need more tequila." A huff of breath. "A towel, though. That's probably something you need. Will you stay in one place while I go get you one? And...god, you are soaked." In late autumn, and Alexander hasn't really turned on the heat yet, although there's a space heater radiating warmth from the corner where the bird's cage is. "Staaaaay." Just like if she were a dog he was afraid might run away, as he backs towards the linen closet to grab a threadbare towel. Or two.

"Weee!" Bennie exclaims as she's plucked from the floor once again and deposited on the couch. That movement was far too fast for her and she reels a little bit as her brain tries to catch up to her eyes and catch up to her equilibrium. Then he's telling her to stay, and so she obediently barks an, "ARF!" That makes her titter with laughter.

Blue Bell's tail twitches in offense as Bennie barks, and she gives Alexander a look as he returns with towels that says: really, human? He shrugs helplessly at the cat, then deposits one towel on Bennie's lap, and the other draped over her hair. "Here. Dry yourself off a bit before you catch the flu." A pause. "Of course, that's not how the transmission of flu virus actually works, but you know what I mean." He plunks himself down beside her. "So. You seem to have left your apartment. What happened?"

Bennie casts her face up to Alexander as he drapes the towel over her head, giving the man a bleary smile before she obediently starts scrunching up the towel over her wet waves. "Ohh, nothin'. Easton just tripped and accidentally stuck his dick in de la Veega. De la Vaga. In Ruiz." She gives a helpless shrug like 'whaddyagonnado' and then keeps drying her hair. "But dun worry. S'okay. Cuz he's soooooo sooooorry."

Alexander goes still. "I. Uh. Huh." And that seems to be about all that he can say to that, at least at the moment. He reaches for the other towel, unfolds it, and drapes it over her skirt and pants...arrangement. Not that it's going to do much against the soaked clothes, but he has to do something with his hands, so that's what he's doing. He clears his throat. "You're being sarcastic. It's clearly not okay to you. And so you left him." He says that like he's working it out for himself, tracing a badly written map of a foreign land.

"Pfft." Not okay? She's perfectly okay. This is her being perfectly okay. "I made him feel like a monssser and he needed to feel like A Man." She says the last two words with concentrated seriousness. "I mean, look at me." The blonde leans back grabbing two handfuls of her chest and squishes it together and gives a little jiggle. "What's not all man about this. I mean, can make you feel like a man. You'd feel like a man if you had these yabbos bouncin' in your face, wouldn't you?"

Ohhhh, Alexander does not know how to have this sort of conversation at all. His face has blank confusion written all over it. He stares at her chest as she squeezes it, frowns, considers the question with far more seriousness than it probably deserves. "I think I would feel about the same amount like a man whether they were or not." He can dimly sense that this probably isn't the right response, so he adds, with a hopeful sort of lilt, "They're very nice, though?" His brow furrows. "Um. Did Easton say that, or is that a thing you've said to yourself? About the monster-feeling and the man-needing?"

Apparently in Bennie's condition any answer will suffice but as Alexander says they're nice, she gives a, "Thank you." As if he just proved her point. "That's what he said. Said aaaaall my flinching made him feel like a monsser. Xact works." Well, maybe not. Take her retelling of the story with a grain of salt rimming a tequila shot. "But whatever. Now he's free to do who ever he wants. S'probably already crawled into a bottle and up some twat." The word is foreign coming from Bennie's lips, but then again, extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary vocabulary.

"Oh." Alexander falls silent, but for the drum of his fingers on his thighs. He's visibly struggling with the urge to try and logically break down her statements, while simultaneously realizing that a) she's very drunk, and b) this is probably not a thing where logic or a balanced response is going to improve the situation even if she weren't. His gaze turns inward for a moment as he tries to figure out what next to do. Accessing...accessing...ah. He takes a breath, braces himself, then opens his arms. "You look like you need a hug, Bennie. I'm sorry that you're hurting."

Hugging Alexander is a privilege not a right, and therefore Bennie's not one to pass up the opportunity when it is given. She launches at the offered embrace and just about body checks Alexander with a wrap of her arms to give him a fierce, damp hug. "You're such a good fren." She declares, voice muffled as she buries her face in his neck.

There's a moment where Alexander's eyes widen - maybe he wasn't expecting quite so much enthusiasm in the embrace. He rocks back as she hurls herself into his arms, but he doesn't scream, panic, or start flailing at her. So. Progress! He does wrap his arms gently around her and pat her back as she squishes soddenly against him. His sweats are getting soaked through, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I'm glad you think so," he murmurs, and if his hug is a bit tentative and awkward, he at least has a good voice for soothing.

Before she draws away, Bennie lifts her head and gives him a noisy full-on kiss to the cheek with a verbal, "MWAH! I dun just think it. I know it...and I also know that your living room is spinning like we're being flushed down a toilet. Which would be fun. 'Cept you know. Toilet and...OH MY GOD make it stahp. Seriously...too fast! TOO FAST. Slow it down." Her hand goes out to pat the air, as if she can put on the brakes.

Alexander can't help but flinch a little at the unexpected kiss on the cheek. So noisy! He tries to cover it with a coughing sort of chuckle as she pulls away. "I think that's just your head, Bennie," he says. "In a chemically metaphorical sense. Not your actual head actually spinning." Then his eyes narrow. "...I can take you to the restroom, if you think you're about to throw up. Or would you like to lay down? I can get some dry clothes for you."

"Iron stomach." Bennie declares as she sort of slides down so she is resting her cheek on the back cushion of the couch. "Dry close would be nice. 'M cold and clammy." She snickers at the word, "My clam is clammeh. Clammyclammyclammy. I have clothes in m'bag but I think they got wet too. There was an Incident." Involving a sudden need to find a particular t-shirt to make sure she grabbed it, which resulted in her upending the entire bag on the sidewalk to check.

"That would explain why the bags are so damned heavy," Alexander says, placidly. He watches her slide downward for a moment, then stands up. "Hold on, I'll grab you a couple of things." He pads into his bedroom. Blue Bell stands up, walks along the back of the couch, and peers down at Bennie, delicately sniffing her hair. When he returns, Alexander is holding a huge, cozy, knitted sweater in a ludicrous shade of purple, and a pair of drawstring sweatpants. They are both going to be ridiculously big on her, but they are dry, and warm. "You wanna get changed in the bathroom?" he suggests, holding an arm out to her, "or should I just leave the room for a couple of minutes?"

As Alexander walks back to ask that question, Bennie's already got her dress half-assed up around her head - thank goodness for sports bras because she's forgotten to be modest - and somehow she's gotten the wetly clinging fabric stuck up around her elbows. "HELP! It's trying to EAT ME." If one could be consumed by clothing it would certainly happen in Grey Harbor. Of course she's forgotten to unbutton the neckline so it's stuck around her chin and she's doing her best impression of the Wacky Waving Inflatable Tube Man.

"Ask a stupid question..." Alexander mutters to himself when he returns to see her being consumed by her clothing. And then he laughs at her, because let's face it, she looks sodden and adorable. Once he's finished amusing himself, though, he does pretend to be a good friend, drop the dry clothing on the coffee table, then reach out and help her wrestle with the dress. "You are well-marinated," he tells her, solemnly, as he reaches into the fabric to try and unbutton enough of the neck so she can get it over her head, "so it's understandable."

Bennie heaves a sigh of relief when she's released from the evil clutches of the Death Dress, "Did you see that thing! It was trying to turn me into French Toast." She lifts her hips off the couch, sliding her pants down to her knees before she remembers she ought to take off her boots first. "I'm not manninated. You're manninated." So take that! "Gah." The footwear does not seem to want to cooperate so she lifts her leg and starts kicking violently until it flings off and thuds hard into the wall. "Ooop." Hands fly to her mouth like she's in trouble, but after the initial gasp she just starts laughing.

Alexander has to dodge the flung boot, and winces as it thuds against the wall. He gives her a look. "The wall did something to you?" Although the laughter does bring a hint of the same to his features, a few soft chuckles. Then he goes to one knee to help her get the other boot off without any more gratuitous violence to architecture. After that, his hands tug delicately at her wet pants legs, to help pull those off, as well. He keeps his gaze fixed on her feet during the process.

As Alexander kneels to help her with the rest of her clothes, Bennie palms the top of his head to steady herself through out the process. When she's finally free of the wet clothing, she just tilts over sideways and becomes Puddle Bennie again. "Too much effort," declared as the Blonde takes a little rest with the close of her eyes.

Alexander manages, with some effort of his own, not to duck his head away from her hands, although he breathes a brief sigh of relief when she topples over sideways. His eyes flick up to take in her expression, and he smiles. The sodden clothing is gathered, put off to one side with her bags, then he goes back into the bedroom and turns down the sheets. He returns, and possibly scares the life out of her by looming over her, and sliding his arms underneath her to try and pick her up and carry her to the bed to put her beneath the covers.

There is something rather disconcerting about being half asleep and a hundred percent drunk and suddenly finding yourself lofted in the air. Bennie does a quick momentary jerk of panic before she realizes what's happening and then she merely purrs a happy sound and curls up into a compliant little drape across Alexander's arms. As she's placed in the bed and the covers settled up around her shoulders, she murmurs a little, "My savior." Before she wiggles down and lets her eyelids droop closed, hands fisted up underneath her chin and arms hugged close to her body.

There are blackout curtains in the bedroom, so at least the fact that she's falling asleep at six in the morning won't be disturbed by too much light. The lamp at the bedside has colorful parrots on the lampshade, and Alexander pauses by the bedside table, frowning down at her for a long moment before he clicks it off. "Sleep well, Bennie," he murmurs, then moves to close the door, to leave her in darkness. About the first thing he does when the door is closed, of course, is to grab his phone from the office and make a few texts.