2020-11-20 - Sauerkraut Repercussions

Alexander has spent most of the night bathing. And bandaging. And scrubbing. Clothes had to be burnt, all sorts of things had to be disinfected, and finally he got some sleep. But now it's the daytime, and his weedy mind has come to terms with an eternal truth: he does not want to get infection from poo-slimes. He just doesn't. So, he's sent a text to Bennie, throwing himself on her mercy, and offering her a waffletaco in exchange for taking a look at his wounds and seeing if they need to be Healed, or if his current regime of slathering disinfectant will work. Presuming that she agreed, he's in the kitchen, with all the ingredients for waffletacos set up, ready to start battering and frying when she arrives. He's dressed in a hugely oversized t-shirt, and loose sweatpants.

Bennie of course agreed and texted again when she was a few minutes out so she could be expected. Thus she finds the door unlocked and pokes her head in with a verbal, "Knock knock!" As she lets herself into the home, stooping on her way to the kitchen to give Bluebell a little scritch. "I brought supplies!" She says cheerily as she unslings her bright red EMT kit off her shoulder and into a chair. "Tell me where Bennie can kiss it and make it better."

There's the slightest brush of mind against mind when the door opens, despite the warning text; it's Elm, and it pays to be careful. Blue Bell is delighted to see Bennie, and to get scritches, and twines herself around the EMT's legs as Alexander slips out of the kitchen and waves. His eyes are slightly red - from weed, not crying, and his smile is a bit easier and less touched with anxiety and defensiveness than it usually is. "Supplies? Medical, culinary, or recreational?" He grins. "Hey. And it's...kinda all over my chest. I can take my shirt off so you can look at them. I don't smell anymore, which is the closest thing I've found to support for a kind and loving god."

Bennie's smile is easy and smooth, less lately of the 'put on' appearance that never seems to linger in Alexander's presence, weed or no. No real redness in her eyes, but Visine eye drops are her friend, and likely something she's used to using when she tokes on her time off to relax. Or mourn. Or any tub related activity really.

"Well, let's see!" Because Bennie herself can't quite recall what she packed when she headed over, so it'll be a surprise for both of them. She unzippers the kit, and comes up with, "Cheetos. A pair of leggings which I'm sure I had a reason for at the time. Uh, a can of tuna. That must be for Snow Ball. A pound of butter! And..boring medical stuff. But there are tongue depressors if you want to build a miniature log cabin!" Oh right, the healing thing. "Strip for me, big boy. Brown chicken brown cow!"

Alexander perks up. "CHEETOS." He throws himself on the couch, whimpers at the rough movement's effect on his injuries, and makes grabby hands. Then there's a pause. "Wait. Why a pound of butter? What are we gonna do with a pound of butter, Bennie?" Merriment twinkles in the dark eyes, and he laughs. "I don't know what that means. THere are no chickens or cows here." But he obediently slips off his shirt. His chest, upper arms, and torso are marked with a number of old scars, and new injuries. The new injuries look like he's been splashed with acid, and - as he carefully takes off the bandages he's applied to himself - are concentrated on his abs, around his belly button, in two large, red patches. Most of the other wounds look minor. "Shit-slimes fired acid poo at us," he says, with complete seriousness. "I think it'd heal on its own, but I really don't want whatever kind of horrible infection you can find in Veil fecal matter, so I thought I'd throw myself on your superior knowledge."

Bennie drags the bag over towards the couch, lobbing the bag of Cheetos underhanded in case he can't wait the few extra seconds that carrying them would require. Thankfully she hits the cushion beside him instead of beaming him in the chest as he tries to take off his shirt and bandages. "Oof." She says upon spying the angry skin. "Maybe that's what I brought the butter for? Some new age Veil home remedy I was going to try?" Either way she doesn't seem about to peel the wrapper off a stick and smear without knowing for sure. She does at least have the presence of mind to throw on some gloves. "Time for touching, ready?"

"Bennie. I'm high enough that the idea of you slathering my naked skin in butter is weirdly appealing? But not so high to actually want to do it. It'd be greasy and...I've had enough of that particularly texture for a bit," Alexander rambles cheerfully. He grabs the bag of Cheetos, and turns on the couch so he can lay down, face up. He opens the bag and grabs a couple of cheesy treats, before offering her the bag. In between nibbles, he says, "It's okay. I'm stoned enough that touching is okay. I mean. It's gonna hurt. But most things do." He grins at her. "Go for it."

"I promise not to take advantage of you in your impaired state while I'm in an impaired state. But don't think that didn't just go right into my mental database of hottie McHot imagination." Bennie's already gloved up, so she doesn't reach in the bag for a Cheeto, instead just leaning forward with her mouth wide open for him to deposit one for her before she starts a manual examination of his wounds, poking and prodding around the perimeters. "I mean, it looks like a pretty standard acid burn. I'm assuming you flushed it already. Normally, I'd just apply some calcium gluconate, but this is an unknown substance. So, it's juju time."

Alexander chuckles. "Hottie McHot? You flatter me. Like. A lot, considering the fine masculine material you have around here to work with." He obediently feeds her a Cheeto or two, before relaxing back on the couch. Or trying to; whatever he says, he still tenses when she starts examining, although he doesn't flinch and skitter away like normal. His eyes follow the movements of her hands. "Flushed, doused in every sort of antiseptic I have, soaked...if I could have run myself through an industrial steam cleaner, I would have. But I like my skin mostly in place." He grimaces at the 'unknown substance'. "Oh, I know what that shit was. It was the fucking tacos. Who puts sauerkraut on a taco, Bennie? WHO? And why did I eat it??" He eats another few Cheetos. He's a middle-aged man. If this keeps up, those decent abs he's got going on are going to melt away.

"You just don't know how hot you are, Alexander Clayton." Bennie sing songs a little, "But it's a good thing Isabella is the only one who gets to see you without your clothes on, or you'd be beating them off." With a stick. There is an end to that sentence, she just forgot to add it. Hopefully by mistake. "Well. And now me! Score one for Bennie." There is even a little wiggle like a victory dance, before she remembers she's a professional. A very high as balls professional and her eyes slide shut as she gets in tune with his body and attempts to scan him for anything underlying the surface burns. "Ugh, wait, sauerkraut? Were they Nazi tacos? Did you get attacked by Nazi tacos that you defeated by eating them?!"

Alexander snorts, but doesn't try to argue with her on the state of his hotness. Even stoned, that seems like an argument that even if he wins, he loses. But her accidental end of the sentence turns the snort into a guffaw, and then to helpless masculine giggles. "I don't...I don't think..." no, he can't even finish it. He just laughs and squirms under her touch. Luckily, it doesn't seem that some horrible Veil infection has set in - his innards are a little weird right now, but it's a weird consistent with a high that's gone on way, way too long. "THey were not Nazi tacos. Probably. Just regular tacos. Kelly and I craved them, and he offered to drive. So...we ate them. And then my toilet ate me."

The laughter is contagious, even if Bennie doesn't realize why they're laughing. Does it matter? Not one bit. She rocks backwards and covers her mouth with the back of her wrist, snickering until she snorts. "Oh, oh, stop, it hurts." And probably him more than it does her, because she's not the one covered in burns. "Okay okay..." She tries to get a hold of herself, but she starts again, when he mentions getting eaten by a toilet and that's just hilarious.

"Don't laugh at me," Alexander complains. While laughing. He plucks a Cheeto out of the bag and tosses it lightly at her blonde hair. "You're supposed to be healing me! Instead, you're wounding me and my delicate ego. Sometimes people get eaten by toilets. Then pooped on by slimes! It's just natural." He can't say that with a straight face, of course, and starts laughing again.

"I'm not...I'm not!" Bennie protests between full on guffaws that only worsen when she gets pegged by a Cheeto. She tries stifling it by pressing together her lips, but it just ends up stuttering out like a bad note played on trumpet. "Will you sit still? I'm trying to heal your pooper problems!"

Alexander stares at her, then just collapses into helpless laughter, his whole body shaking with it. He points at her lips. "S-sounds like you're the one with pooper problems," he claims, and then loses it again, unable to speak. Just laugh. And point. And laugh.

"STAHHHP." Bennie whines as much as she snickers. "Okay, okay, straight faces. Straight faces! Before I accidentally give you an extra pancreas or something." She takes a deep breath and then extends her gloved hands, middle finger and thumb pressed together as she says 'OHM' with dramatic flare. "Here we go."

"Who's to say that an extra pancreas would be bad? They're important, you know. I could have double the pancreas, double the fun." Alexander pauses, tries to get himself back under control. "Sorry. Sorry. I just...it's funny. It's so funny I could cry." But he relaxes, watching her gloved hands. "Heal me, oh great yogi Bennie."

Bennie cracks open an eye at Alexander's parting tease, and her hand reaches out to try to flick him in the nose. By now though, he should feel the spread of warmth throughout his chest like he's suddenly basked in sunshine.

Alexander is flicked! He pretends to fall back from the 'force' of the blow, clapping one hand to his nose and accusing, "I think you broke it. You wild beast. You don't know your own strength, Bennie!" And then there's that warmth flowing through him, and his whole body relaxes; even though he's used to it, those wounds did hurt. And still do, but much less, as the skin starts to recover at an accelerated rate. "Thank you," he says, sincerely.

Of course, he's still holding his nose, so it comes out as a nasal drone instead.

"Woo!" Bennie let's out a long breath, one lingering huff of laughter escaping on the tail end of it. She flops down on the floor next to the couch, bracing her back against it. "I'm just glad you reached out." And speaking of reaching out, she crooks her arm over her head and holds back her fingers for him. "You're fine, you big baby."

Alexander turns his head to follow her as she flops down, and when she extends her fingers, he reaches with his hand. He doesn't quite grasp them; instead, he touches fingertip to fingertip, light but warm. "I'm not a big baby, Bennie. I didn't cry at all, even when that slime made a poosplosion all over my face and chest. Would a baby manage not to cry at that? No! I am a grown adult, and an up and coming entrepreneur. We successfully made waffletacos. People ate them! And liked them! So take that."

And even the fingertip to fingertip contact is lessened by the fact she's still wearing her surgical gloves, but after the physical acknowledgement her hand flops down into her lap. Her head lulls backwards so she can sort of look up at him in his shirtless stretch. "The lesson here, is so long as you don't put sauerkraut on said waffletaco, you'll be aces. You can skip to the bank with all your money in buckets."

"The turkey flavor was weird enough. I don't think we need to add sauerkraut," Alexander agrees, cheerfully enough. "We will roll around in stacks of delicious money." He turns to study her. "And what about you? Things settling down with Easton's return? You guys get the bar question settled?"

And so Alexander gets to study Bennie as she tiiiiips over and ends up stretching out next to the couch so she is head to toe with Alexander on different planes. "You should put Cheetos on Waffletacos. I bet that would be amazeballs." But the munchies don't seem to hold a candle to the sleepies she's getting whammied with now, as her arm slings over her eyes. "Easton and I are just great. Really talking now, you know? So thanks for that underhanded tip about him being in with the mob. Really opened things up so we could just flow."

Alexander is a really bad liar. He's an even worse liar when he's stoned, so the guilt is plain to see, and his instinctive response is, "I didn't think he was in the mob. I just thought that there was...something...moblike...going ...I figured money laundering," he admits after stumbling over it a couple of times. He closes his eyes and sighs, looking pained. "Is he? Like, actually in with them, or is it just. The bar being used? Because there's a lot of businesses in town that have that kind of pressure put on them..."

Bennie's hand suddenly thrusts up, single blue latexed finger extended. "Got it in one. I mean, I don't know all the specifics yet because we got sidetracked by cheese. And then sex. And then more cheese. But I know he's not involved, no. But the bar is definitely tied to Mona...Moanna...Mo...That guy. So there! You have your answer without all the awkward asking!"

"Monaghan," Alexander says. There's a grim heaviness to the name. "Yeah. I figured." His eyes are still closed, but there are lines carved back in his face that the weed can't take away. "I was hoping I was wrong," he says, voice soft. He takes a breath. "But. I'm usually pretty good at this, so," a shrug. "And it's the truth. It's always better to know the truth." He doesn't sound like he entirely believes that, though. "So...uh. You mentioned me mentioning to Easton?"

"I mean, you were sort of the integral piece I was missing in order to start making the connections myself and fish for confirmation from Easton." She suddenly pops back up, pony tail sitting lopsided now. "Wait, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

Alexander frowns. "I assume by 'anyone', you mean the police?" He shakes his head. "No. It wouldn't do anything except cause Easton problems. I'm just gonna put another little note on my wall of notes. Another useless piece of information about the poison that slides through our veins, even past the Veil and the Dreams." He pauses, then laughs - it's a harsher laugh than before. He recites, "I came upon a creature squatting in the desert, naked, bestial. In its hands it held its heart, and it ate of it. Is it good, friend? I asked. No, it replied. It is bitter, bitter. But I like it. Because it is bitter, and because it is my heart."

Bennie looks relieved when he says he's not going to go straight to the cops with the confirmation of information. Really, she should have thought of that before telling him, but it just sort of stumbled out on the wave of mind addled delirium. But then her eyes sort of cross when he starts reciting something. "Ohh, I get it. The heart was the taco. And the bitter part was the sauerkraut!" She flumps back to the floor, exhausted after healing Alexander on top of the perpetual high. "Your heart so isn't sauerkraut." She mumbles, then makes a sorry little excuse of a hand wave to flag him down. "If any of your limbs work in the next hour, can you get me a blanket? I think I'm going to camp here and try for the summit later."

Alexander blinks. His eyes open specifically so he can blink at her. There's a soft astonishment there, and he laughs, low, but less harsh. "You have the most fascinating mind, Bennie. I'm glad you're my friend." He reaches out, and if she allows, gently pushes a lock of her hair to one side. "I didn't mean that, exactly. But it works. It works. And yeah, I'll get you a blanket. And I can probably manage a pillow, too. When you wake up, I'll make you a waffletaco." He grins, and rolls to his feet, careful not to step on her, but moving more easily now. Soon, she will have that blanket and pillow. And probably a cat sleeping on top of her.