"But that didn't happen this time," he points out. "I was in the dining hall when that went down. Misty didn't get herself killed to prove a point, she died in an accident. A completely stupid accident that nobody could have prevented."
There's a pause before Dorian sighs. He downs his tequila before pointing out,
"And it sucks. Trust me, I am well aware of how garbage it feels when something happens that you couldn't stop."
"So what's your point? I knew I couldn't help her. I couldn't look out for her. I could've taken her out before she turned into a zombie, but then I'd get infected."
Hunter made it abundantly clear that contaminated blood was not to be touched, and there's no way that the quick death Natalie could have given Misty wouldn't have resulted in abundant splatter, much of it on Natalie herself.
"It's not a pity party," she grumbles, and takes the shot. The sweet heat of it warms her all the way down and starts to flow through to her limbs.
"I'm just-- I just need to wind down."
She shouldn't be drinking after taking painkillers for her hand (thanks for the tidbit about the nerve damage she has, Malcolm) but here she is anyway, because that's how she rolls.
It's hard to stay even just grumpy at the person who's given her liquor and a place to stay. Natalie nods at him, and then waits a while, and when it becomes crystal clear that he's not going to pour her another shot, she heads over to the couch and lies down.
"She's coming back, right? The revival thing, it's never not happened before?"
"You don't need to worry about that one. She'll be back asking invasive questions within the next day or two. Granted, she'll feel like shit for a week. But I don't think feeling like shit has ever stopped Misty from getting in other people's business."
What a small, empty comfort. Natalie grabs one of the couch pillows and hugs it to her. Elevating her injured hand helps with the pain the meds can't silence.
There's something about this, about Natalie curled up on the couch, holding the pillow to her, that just looks kind of pathetic. Poor kid. This is the world's worst first week, isn't it.
"The Barge isn't always like this," Dorian points out, as he goes to sit on the arm of the couch. "There are wonderful people here and wonderful experiences. It's just that every now and then, you get a little psycho who likes to cause trouble."
Even Franky, tough though she is, isn't an asshole. She's strict but not sadistic. And Jon is someone Natalie feels she can message whenever. Dorian too, for all that he's a little shit, is okay.
"The city was cool. Not sure how it's supposed to help me ~redeem~ myself--" she says that in a mocking tone "--but it was nice, I guess."
"Honestly? I don't think the city was supposed to help us redeem people or help people get redeemed." Dorian shrugs, leaning against the back of the couch as he continues the conversation.
"We had a pretty shit first few months before you came aboard. I think the city was the Admiral's odd little idea of a vacation."
This is the weirdest rehab center she has ever been in.
"Misty said that. Said she was more afraid than she'd ever been in the woods." She winces as she shifts her injured hand a little on the cushion. "Not sure I want to know the details, after this."
It doesn't matter whether Natalie wants to know the details or not. Sooner or later, she'll find out. The past few months...Dorian suspects they're more traumatic than people are willing to admit.
So, instead he points out, "You can have the bed if you want. More space for you to lay out, less chance of you sleeping on a bruise."
Natalie wants to refuse his offer on point of pride, but she's riding these painkillers and these shots of tequila and the drop in adrenaline after the whole mess in the dining hall. It's both practical and logical to stay at Dorian's.
"I'll move later. Feel like I might pass out walking."
Dorian just gives her a very unimpressed look. "Right. Congratulations Natalie, as neither of us are paired at the moment, I'm officially assigning you as my temp inmate until the next round of pairings. We'll start off with this small, yet vital lesson: don't mix alcohol and pain medication, you absolute idiot."
He reaches over to lightly flick the side of her head with his fingers. Don't be stupid about getting high! When you get high, do it smart!
"You can't do that." Can he? She's pretty sure that's not how this pairing thing works.
And even though it doesn't hurt at all, she swats his hand away. "I know that."
But consider: she doesn't want to be sober right now. She watched Misty die, Dorian. She got a fork through the hand. Let her have this. (Don't let her have this.)
Technically speaking, he can't. But Dorian can certainly ride Natalie's ass and keep an eye on her and be in her business. And in his mind, that's close enough.
"I need to teach you how to sulk in a sexy way. If you're going to spiral, be classy about it."
"If I fuck you, you'll be sober," Dorian points out, in a sing-song tone of voice. Baby's having a tantrum, how cute. And he is perfectly fine giving Natalie shit for the sake of giving her shit.
Excuse you, she's more mature than a baby. Think bratty teenager, thank you.
"Ethical. Good."
Not that she hasn't used being drunk as an excuse to bed and rob someone before, but at least she can be sure Dorian's room is a safe place. Mostly. Nowhere is ever really safe.
"Is it really ethical if your main concern is whiskey dick?" Dorian dryly responds. "Or whatever the hell the lady equivalent of that is. Although, getting vomited on is a concern no matter the gender."
"I am many things," Dorian points out. "Addict, murderer, horrible friend. But I'm certainly not going to try and coerce sometime or take advantage of them if they're drunk and don't want to fuck."
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There's a pause before Dorian sighs. He downs his tequila before pointing out,
"And it sucks. Trust me, I am well aware of how garbage it feels when something happens that you couldn't stop."
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Hunter made it abundantly clear that contaminated blood was not to be touched, and there's no way that the quick death Natalie could have given Misty wouldn't have resulted in abundant splatter, much of it on Natalie herself.
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And he'll top off that tequila for one last shot.
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"I'm just-- I just need to wind down."
She shouldn't be drinking after taking painkillers for her hand (thanks for the tidbit about the nerve damage she has, Malcolm) but here she is anyway, because that's how she rolls.
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A pause before, "And if you want to crash on said couch, feel free."
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"She's coming back, right? The revival thing, it's never not happened before?"
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"You don't need to worry about that one. She'll be back asking invasive questions within the next day or two. Granted, she'll feel like shit for a week. But I don't think feeling like shit has ever stopped Misty from getting in other people's business."
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What a small, empty comfort. Natalie grabs one of the couch pillows and hugs it to her. Elevating her injured hand helps with the pain the meds can't silence.
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"The Barge isn't always like this," Dorian points out, as he goes to sit on the arm of the couch. "There are wonderful people here and wonderful experiences. It's just that every now and then, you get a little psycho who likes to cause trouble."
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Even Franky, tough though she is, isn't an asshole. She's strict but not sadistic. And Jon is someone Natalie feels she can message whenever. Dorian too, for all that he's a little shit, is okay.
"The city was cool. Not sure how it's supposed to help me ~redeem~ myself--" she says that in a mocking tone "--but it was nice, I guess."
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"We had a pretty shit first few months before you came aboard. I think the city was the Admiral's odd little idea of a vacation."
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"Misty said that. Said she was more afraid than she'd ever been in the woods." She winces as she shifts her injured hand a little on the cushion. "Not sure I want to know the details, after this."
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So, instead he points out, "You can have the bed if you want. More space for you to lay out, less chance of you sleeping on a bruise."
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"I'll move later. Feel like I might pass out walking."
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Though wait a moment. He frowns, looks at Natalie's hand again, tries to remember what he saw in the dining room, before he sighs,
"And you've probably had some painkillers as well, haven't you."
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And the stabbing part, obviously.
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He reaches over to lightly flick the side of her head with his fingers. Don't be stupid about getting high! When you get high, do it smart!
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And even though it doesn't hurt at all, she swats his hand away. "I know that."
But consider: she doesn't want to be sober right now. She watched Misty die, Dorian. She got a fork through the hand. Let her have this. (Don't let her have this.)
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Technically speaking, he can't. But Dorian can certainly ride Natalie's ass and keep an eye on her and be in her business. And in his mind, that's close enough.
"I need to teach you how to sulk in a sexy way. If you're going to spiral, be classy about it."
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"If you wanna fuck, all you have to do is ask."
Also, fuck you, she knows how to sexy sulk. It comes in handy when she needs a little extra cash in a new city.
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"Ethical. Good."
Not that she hasn't used being drunk as an excuse to bed and rob someone before, but at least she can be sure Dorian's room is a safe place. Mostly. Nowhere is ever really safe.
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