2020-03-20 - The Morning After

Isolde had come not-quite-stumbling in to Alexander's house a little after midnight the night of her birthday. Now, she hadn't actually advertised that 3/17 was her birthday nor her real reason for wanting to get hammered but merely texted him that she was going to be doing that drinking contest at the Pourhouse and asked if she could spend the night at his place since it was closer than going back to her own.

The contest had been messy and she smelled heavily of beer but she passed out on the couch with little issue or fanfare. Now though, the morning had come and there was some sunlight filtering in through the living room window. She groaned and turned, burying her face into the couch a bit deeper. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like she'd eaten a pile of sand.

Finally, she gave up on sleep and carefully started to sit up, murmuring a string of French and tossing in a greeting to Lugi somewhere in the jumble. Shoving her hand through wild mess of hair, she started to try and get her bearings about her again.

Isolde is about the one human being other than Alexander that Luigi is happy to see. Unfortunately, he shows that by hopping down at the break of dawn to sit on the arm of the couch and sing to her. Right next to her ear.

Alexander might have facilitated this by opening the cage door veeeerrry early in the morning so that the bird could greet his second favorite person. Because it's not really friendship if you can't make someone's hangover worse. He's trying to make up for it, though, by cooking some omelettes - something nice, bland, and easy on the stomach for the way she's bound to wake up.

Unfortunately, it's the scent of smoke and the sound of cursing that reaches Isolde's ears, as somehow Alexander has managed to catch the eggs on fire, and is hastily dunking them under running water. They will not be edible. Oh no. But at least the rest of the kitchen seems fine. Mostly fine.

Isolde loves Luigi, really, but the singing? Not good on her. She gives the conure a little look, though it does immediately soften despite her pounding head. "You're such a brat." She murmured and would give his head a little scritch with he finger if he allowed it. The commotion and smoke from the kitchen as Isolde concerned.

"Alexander?" She calls out as she gets to her feet-wobbles a bit- and a then exhales slowly. She walks the few steps over to lean against the entry way. "...What are you doing?" Clearly perplexed but relieved that the kitchen isn't on fire? That's good, right?

"I was cooking." It's a sheepish sort of mutter. "Attempting to cook, at any rate. I thought it would be nice for you to have some breakfast. But it's on fire. Sorry." He sighs at the smoking pan in the sink, and runs a hand through his hair, before giving her a lopsided little smile. "There's coffee, though? It is not - currently - on fire. And I'll do my best to ensure it remains so on its way to you." He watches her come to the entry way, looking both sheepish and amused. "How's your head?"

Meanwhile, Luigi - proud at being named a brat - whistles a happy little tune at being scritched, and bounces along the side of the couch until she moves away. He doesn't fly after her, but rather flutters back to his cage, mission accomplished.

Isolde giggled a bit as she surveyed the mess and then looked back up Alexander. "Coffee would be a good thing." She confirms. "I am.not sure. I can eat real. Food right now anyway." She smiles a bit more and then touched her temple lightly. "Like a drum is inside it." When asked about her head. "But I will live! Probably. "

Her head tilts a bit. "I didn't win the contest. Easton did though!" It should also be noted that she is wearing a green shirt that says 'buy me a beer it's my birthday.'

"Eggs aren't really real food," Alexander claims. "They're more pre-food, if you think about it." But he looks relieved nonetheless as he scrapes the blackened mess into the disposal and runs it, before turning to grab a mug, pouring Isolde some coffee the way she likes it, and coming to offer it to her. "Easton has a hollow leg. He really shouldn't be allowed to compete," he says, with a smile. "But I'm sure you gave a strong account of yourself." His gaze drops, and he blinks. "It's your birthday! You didn't say. Happy birthday, Isolde."

"Thank you." Isolde summons up a smile when the coffee is given to her, taking a long - albeit carefulish sip. "Much better." With a contented sigh and then a giggle about Easton's hollow leg. "Bennie did a good job of trying to mess with. Him so it evened it out! I was doing okay. Then the beer decided it. Wanted to go everywhere except. My mouth." She blinks herself and then looks down at her shirt.

"Oh! Uh, it was. Yes." Isolde gives a bit of her own sheepish smile towards him. "I had a lot. Of things on my. Mind yesterday. I decided it would be better to get drunk alone-ish. Or something like that."

"Don't feel bad - Easton is a world-class drinker, and I'm sure you held your own pretty well with him," Alexander says, with a smile. He sniffs a little, then nods. "Yeah. Kinda smells like a fair amount of it ended up elsewhere." No, he has no tact, why do you ask? He doesn't seem upset at not being told, though. Instead, he says, "I'd try to bake you a cake, but I would probably burn down the entire house. There's some ice cream in the fridge when you feel up to it. I can scrounge a candle. Luigi can sing." He studies her for a moment. "It's good to see you, you know. How are things? Other than head-poundingly hungover?"

Isolde's eyes widen in semi-mock fear as Alexander talks about baking a cake. "Definitely no baking this time." She agrees, taking another sip of coffee. "Ice cream sounds good though. I will probably steal. The shower soon. That will be helpful." Towards feeling better. Hopefully.

"It's good to see you too." There's a moment of silence after Alexander asks how things are going. Like she's debating on how she might answer. And then, maybe rather abruptly from the silence, "I broke up with Itzhak." Lowering her gaze towards her coffee. It felt weird to actually vocalize. "Yesterday. In the afternoon." Over the phone no less, because she was sure if she waited for him to get back in town she'd lose her nerve. What a wonderful way to start off a birthday right?

"You don't have to steal it, but if you really want to try and burglar-creep in that direction, I won't tell you not to. I'll just watch. And probably laugh," Alexander says, cheerfully. He goes to pour himself a mug of coffee, as well, and leans against the kitchen counter, and watches her with that flat stare he has. A blink when she says she broke up with Itzhak. He takes a sip of coffee. "Okay." Another pause and sip. "Do I have to go over and break something he's gonna miss, or was it just something that you needed to do for yourself?"

Isolde couldn't help but laugh a little at the mental image of herself exaggeratedly sneaking towards the bathroom. A fleeting smile as she focuses back up to Alexander. "I didn't want but. I had to. Nothing to hurt him over." She explains. "He just...no matter how many times I. Have proven I can do things and am not fragile...he still treats me like a kid. Kind of. Like I can't do things on my own." She rubbed at a temple a bit. Massage the headache away!

"...and He doesn't treat the others like that. I know he wants to. Protect me but I can't grow. If I'm constantly being...treated like I'm broken." Isolde could feel a little lump forming but she swallowed hard. "But besides this...I have been okay. I am going to get a terrarium and frogs soon. When it gets warmer." Brightening slightly at the thought of owning her own frogs.

Alexander listens, and nods. "I know that pisses you off." A gleam of humor in his dark eyes. "Which I know because I've been too prone to doing it and been righteously called to account for it, myself. Itzhak is a protector." A pause. "I guess I am, too. But you're right. That's not what you need, and I'm...sorry. That it didn't work out. You're both good things," a quick lift of his lips as he deliberately uses her phrase, "but sometimes good things don't fit together forever. And a terrarium sounds wonderful. I can help haul dirt or put things together, if you want. I don't know anything about frogs, but I've got a decent idea of how to make things grow. Sometimes."

His expression turns teasing. "When are you going to invite me over to see the place, anyway? I've been patient, I think."

"That's true. It's just how he is. And you but-you listen. Most of the time." Isolde smirked a bit and then straightened some. "That would be helpful! ...Itzhak was going to help me put it together but. Well, I am not sure if that is. Still an option." She thinks on it briefly and then shakes her head. "Anyway. Yes. When I am closer to ready to do it then I will let you know!" There's another pause when he asks about visiting the place and then she laughed. "Oh. Soon! Maybe you and Isabella. Can come over for lunch or dinner soon? Is she back yet?" Isolde remembered Isabella had been leaving for England but was unsure of when she was supposed to come back."

"I like to think that I respond well to a good strong smack in the head, yes," Alexander says, voice dry. "But Itzhak does listen. He's just...he's caught up in a lot of his shit, and Gray Harbor shit, and he wants to protect the people he loves and keep them safe. But there's nowhere that's safe, and you can't protect anyone in Gray Harbor." There's a bleak sort of resignation to that. "You can only advise them and hope to be on hand once they make their decision." He takes another sip, and nods his head. "I think she'd like that. She got back recently. And I was gonna invite you over one evening soon? I was gonna cook."

A glance at the sink and its egg residue. He clears his throat. "Swear that it'll go better. But we could play a boardgame or something. I have a few. And Luigi misses you."

There's a skepitcal look that passes over Isolde's face when Alexander says Itzhak listens, but then it fades into a resigned look too. "I know. He has a lot of things...and Gray Harbor is awful and doesn't help those things. I think you are right though. About good things not always fitting forever. I know this was imporant to do. Even if it's sucky." Isolde pushes some hair out of her eyes again.

There's a laugh as she looks to the sink and then to Alexander. "I will. Hold you to tha." Isolde mused about the dinner attempt being better than the eggs. "I would like that. I know i haven't. Been very social. Lately, and I'm sorry. For that." She offers. "Playing boardgames sounds like it. Would be fun though!"

"If it was important, then I'm glad you did it," Alexander says, simply. "It'll hurt, but not everything that hurts is truly bad. And you have friends." He smiles at her, watching her push her hair out of her eyes. "And apparently you have lots of beer, too," he teases. "So, you said Easton won, but you didn't say where you came in. Was it second?" He makes a face when she laughs and looks to the sink. "Hey. I'm getting better! And you can be exactly as social as you want to be, Isolde. I'm not exactly a...uh...party person, myself." He ducks his head. "Actually? Someone invited me and Isolde to a dinner party and I ended up punching a guy there. And I even like the guy. I just, y'know, slipped a little. So, less social is sometimes best social. But," he lifts his head again, "I think I can handle boardgames with friends. Let's do it this week. I think we could use something not sad."

Isolde giggled again, "Yeah...lots of beer. Maybe will lay off beer for a day or two though." She decides, giving him a little grin. "I am glad your cooking is getting better. I have moved up to frozen dinner things! And my cookie game. Is getting better." She made a mental note to make some cookies for came night.

Her eyes widened again as he talked about the dinner party he and Isabella went to. "Who did you punch?" She asked and then laughed. "Too bad I missed that." Isolde shifted some, finishing of her coffee and moved to set it in the sink. "This week would be good." She agrees. "Need more good things now that weather is. Getting better. Kind of."

"See? Every day, we make it closer to functional human beings. Go us," Alexander says, dry, but with genuine amusement and affection in the cast of his features. "Uh, Patrick. Patrick Addington," he adds, with a wry emphasis on the name. "His...cousin? Niece? Something, invited us over. She has not forgiven me for it. Patrick just sent me a lot of pictures of his broken nose so that I would feel bad." He snorts. "We went to school together. He's an asshole, but a good guy underneath the finely polished patina of privileged jerkitude."

"We are awesome." Isolde confirms with an emphatic nod and a crooked smile. She listens with interest as he talks about what happened and who. She makes an Oohh sound as he elaborates that he punched an Addington. "Is that really so bad?" That the hostess addington wouldn't forgive him? "And at least he is a good guy somewhere inside? Probably." He totally likely deserved to get punched in Isolde's mind.

She shakes her head a bit. "Aside punching people at dinner parties. How are you doing?"

"It's...awkward? A bit. Because it's justified - I did ruin her party and punch her relative right in front of her. I would be angry at me, too." Alexander shrugs, looking resigned. The last question requires a very long drink of coffee. "Um. Not great. Not...really great. If I'm honest. But it's mostly Gray Harbor fuckery. Although a bunch of townies did try to murder me at the Pourhouse, so that was fun. I need to remember not to get into barfights without you," he adds, making a joke of it. "And just a lot of stuff. If you really want the rundown, I'm happy to give it - but probably not when you're hungover."

Isolde nodded a bit. "Isabella did text me when that happened. I peeked in once briefly but you were asleep - I didn't want. To disturb you." She explained. "I am glad you're okay an yes. No more bar fights without me." Teasing him a bit. There's a shake of her head. "No-Well. Yeah, maybe when not hung over." She agrees with a chuckle. "I think I am going to take that shower. Almost maybe borrow a shirt?" She half asked, moving back towards the living room. "And then maybe ice cream!...and pizza. Or pizza then ice cream." One of those things would happen.

"You never disturb me, you know," Alexander says, with a faint smile. "But it's a pact. Will call before my next barfight so that you can be my wingman. And yeah. We'll make a time and sit down and I can share some things, and see if you want to...uh, get involved with any of it." A hand up. "No pressure. It's all fucked up, and if you don't want anything to do with it, it just makes you smart. But can always use a good head on it." Then, though, he laughs. "From 'no real food' to 'pizza and ice cream', huh? Alright. Let's start with the ice cream - I don't think any of the pizza places are even open, yet. But you know where the shower is, and I'll grab you a shirt." He puts the mug down, and starts to amble towards his bedroom.

"May be not, but also I mean. Pizza isn't really real food either." Isolde countered with a giggle. "Ice cream to start though. And yes, I am at least open to listening." She may or may not be gearing up to get in some trouble of her own potentially for reasons BUT Isolde was certainly not going to bring any of that up yet. "Thank you Alexander." Letting him head towards his room first before she made her way towards the bathroom. A shower would definitely go a long way towards clearing her head.