cuddlecity | If you want blood

CHARACTERS: Faith Lehane and You!
LOCATIONS: The Deviant
WARNINGS: Currently none, will update if that changes
SUMMARY: Faith and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Faith Lehane was having a day. It wasn't anything huge that marked the day in question as particularly awful. Instead, it was the myriad little things that kept piling up one on top of the other to create an avalanche of bullshit that was threatining to roll downhill at any minute. From the waitress that kept spilling drinks on paying customers, to the drunken idiot that had grabbed her ass before she'd tossed him on his... she was itching to punch something in the worst way.

Before the urge could overwhelm her she'd retreated to the manager's office and sat at her desk for a drink and a time out. The whiskey was strong but not strong enough as the burn of it barely took the edge off. She thought back to her time in prison, the things she'd done to get out of her own head and push the darker urges back into their boxes, and tried utilizing the methods that had worked then. Whatever calm she'd been working toward, small as it had been, was shattered when she heard a tray of glasses smash just beyond her door less than five minutes in to her cool down.

With a bitten off curse she stood to leave her temporary sanctuary so she could assess the damage. Her least favorite waitress was in the middle of the wreckage and Faith's eyes narrowed. Her fingers twitched into a fist, flexed once as she tamped down on the urge to let fly, and released.

Not trusting in her ability to resist a second time meant walking away with little more than a ground out order to clean up the mess. It was on her way up to the front that she decided it was in the best interest of everyone that she find a way to resolve the building tension sooner rather than later. Whether it was going to be a fight or something else was where she was still open to suggestion.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Visiting the Deviant is just part of Vasquez's routine by now, mainly to see if Buffy is there. When he arrives this time, though, it seems like the bar is a little bit of a disaster, only made worse when there's a great crash from one of the departing guests running right into the waitress, sending all of the glasses to the ground. Turning to watch things, he can see that the man is too drunk and while he should keep his nose out of it, he sighs and levers himself to his feet, looming at all six foot four of his height.

"Go," is what Vasquez tells the man, while the waitress starts cleaning up the mess, though she doesn't look very happy. When he turns, though, there's another woman there, and Vasquez arches a brow because he's seen her around here before. He thinks he even knows her, even if they haven't properly met. Focusing on the glass first, he crouches and gestures for the cloth. "Here, let me," he says, shooing off the waitress with a cluck of his tongue before he starts to clear some of the glass up.

Looking up at Faith (because it must be her), he nods down. "Do you have a trash I should put this in?"

She doesn't know who the hell the guy cleaning her floor is, she knows she didn't hire him, but she's just pissed off enough that she doesn't give a good goddamn. He's getting the mess cleaned up. Faith gives him half a headshake in acknowledgement before ducking back into her office to grab the bin by her desk and the good broom and dust pan from behind her door.

"And who are you again?" The question is tossed at him rather than asked, which is unfair given the fact that he's getting the mess cleaned up. Again, not that she cares. The last thing on Faith's mind is concern about hurting anyone's feelings. Not when she's too busy making sure she doesn't scream. Or punch things.

Punching things sounded particularly appealing.

"Vasquez," he says, rising up from where he's been on one knee to clean the mess. He knows that maybe she doesn't know him very well, but Buffy has been very clear about who she is. There's been lots of talk about Faith, which is why he's not desperate for her to like him, but he's also not going to be as big of an asshole as he can be.

Maybe, he'll see how this goes. He reaches out for the broom and dust pan to take them, cleaning up the rest of the mess before glancing to where the waitress looks a few seconds from sobbing. "I don't think she's very good at her job," is all he says flatly (so maybe a little bit of an asshole).

"You're Faith, yes? You run this bar?"

Ah. That name rings a bell. A Buffy shaped bell. So this should be interesting, to say the least.

He gets bonus points when he states the obvious and Faith does her level best not to glare at the girl because if she cries, she's fired. Crying waitresses are not a thing on her list today and she intends to keep it that way.

"Understatement of the century. And yes, I am slash do. And you're a friend of Buffy's."

"Maybe an understatement, too," is what he quips, which maybe isn't the smartest thing to be saying, but then, he occasionally isn't very smart. He hasn't even been drinking that much, though, so he focuses on getting the trash swept away, pleased that he's finally meeting the famous Faith.

"Yes, a friend. She talks a lot about you, says she thinks that maybe you and I will get along," he notes. "I think before I can tell, we should at least have a drink to know whether she's right."

There's an arch of an eyebrow at that comment, and she remembers how she felt forever and a freaking lifetime ago when Scott had broken up with Buffy. When things had been fresh and not entirely weird between them she'd actually felt a little protective of the other Slayer. She'd wanted that sisterhood and that bond and... well, mostly she wanted to escape her shitshow of a life. Knowing how worried Buffy had been about how things would go here, she's looking at this guy with less lack of interest, and slightly more scrutiny.

The last thing she expects is to hear that Buffy talks about her, which isn't the thing that surprises her, she'd expect nothing less in that department given their complicated history, but it's the 'thinks we'll get along' part that throws her. "Think a drink might be a requirement then. What's your poison? On the house."

"Tequila," he says, instantly, and while he thinks he should be polite and offer to pay, he's also not stupid enough to turn down free liquor and she seems to be offering, so Vasquez isn't going to say no. After all, he's not stupid.

He drifts towards one of the booths, completely ignoring the waitress now that he's disposed of a little of the remaining glass, settling his hat back on the bar while straddling the chair, adjusting the gun belt and lasso on his hip. "Unless you have something better than tequila to introduce me to. I'm not exactly from this century." Dragging up his cigarettes, he gestures to them. "Mind if I smoke?"

The beautiful thing about running a club is that for all the headaches, there's free liquor to dull the pain. "Nah, tequila's a classic. Be my guest as far as the smoke goes." While he drifts off she moves for the bar and grabs a bottle plus two shot glasses. Even as crowded as the place is she has no trouble finding him again. The whole cowboy thing is hard to miss.

"So what's your deal with B?" What's the point in beating around the bush? She's either going to get answers or he's going to get pissed and pick a fight. There's no downside to either of these things in her mind in that moment.

He gives her a grateful nod and a mumbled gracias as he lights up with a match, making sure that when he exhales, he's not pushing a stream of smoke into her face, because it's rude to do so. He reaches out for the tequila, grimacing when he picks up the shot glass. "Why is everyone so afraid of having decent amounts of liquor here?" he complains, even though he's happy for the shot.

"Deal?" he echoes, thinking that maybe she means what's happening. "We've gone on some dates, we've had sex," he says bluntly, because he doesn't think that dancing around the topic is going to help, "and I like her. Should I be warned about something?"

If you want blood | OTA

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