Snippet #2423916

Edei gave a chuckle. "Izzie hasn't killed her yet either, which is weird. I don’t know how to take that. The only reason I haven’t been murdered yet is because I am pretty sure that my unpredictability keeps Izzie on edge. But fuck if I can beat that kind of unpredictability." She gestured over towards the lunatic with the crazy hair. "Shit. If Izzie gets used to that kind of crazy I should start looking for a new band. I won’t be half as scary to her anymore."

Cormac waved her concerns away with a hand. "Nonsense," he assured her comfortingly. "You're way scarier than her. Like, fucking terrifying. Simply horrifying. Veritably chilling. Absolutely blood-curdling. Positively ghastly. All but hair-raising. And anyway, I don't think Izzie fires people on a basis of how intimidated she is by them..." He trailed off briefly, and then his brow furrowed as he realised, "Though on second thought that would explain why I've managed to stick around so long. When I put it that way, it's an even less appealing way of thinking about it."

He had little time to reflect upon this latest reason to feel completely emasculated, for shortly thereafter the dude with the long-ass hair-- Liam, innit-- approached their little nook. "Well, I don't blame you for inquiring if Raisa's on drugs," the guy said by way of greeting with a shrug of his shoulders. "I reacted in a similar fashion the first time I met her. But you get used to it... for the most part."

"You get used to that?" Edei exclaimed in bafflement, clutching at her heart in horror and making possibly the strangest sound Cormac had heard since Izzie had laid down vocals for the new album. "You poor thing. You can come hang out with the few of us that aren't bat shit crazy any time you wish."

"Which 'few of us'?" Cormy retorted with a smirk. "You're about as psychotic as Izzie on a good day. Hell, I didn't realise it was an unspoken law that all metal bands have to have at least two certified mental hospital escapees."





Meanwhile, elsewhere, Izzie was not having any of this fucking 'key card' bullshit.

"In every hotel I've stayed at," the guitarist declared wearily, much like an ancient elder passing down the wisdom of their many years to the younger generations. "They didn't fuck around with none'a this key card shit. We got a motherfucking key, and we fucking used that shit. And y'know what? We did just fine. Y'know why they're using this key card shit now? 'cause now your shit is subject to computer surveillance, so they can see where you're goin' 'n shit. It's like 1984, but with hotels instead of oppressive governments. And anyway, ain't secure worth a shit either. Y'know you can copy the bar code on these things with a photocopier and just open up the lock like ya had the card itself? So really, if you wanna steal the like three dollars I have at any one time, you just gotta take this card, photocopy it, and take my three fuckin' dollars. Go 'n buy yourself a fuckin' candy bar or some shit to celebrate your newfound affluence, I dunno. Then again, if you've got the card, why even bother photocopying it? You could just use it or some shit. Unless it's Baron Harkonnen stealing my card just like 'nay, I must devise some many-layered, nefarious plot to steal three dollars from some alcoholic guitarist who's had probably seventeen dollars across the entirety of her life'. But then we're getting into a whole 'nother legion of issues. I mean, how is Baron Harkonnen even gonna fit through my door without somebody seein'? I guess it doesn't really help matters that he doesn't exist, now that I think about it."

Not surprisingly, by the time Izzie tuned back into reality, Raisa was light years away from the subject of hotel security, having now spontaneously decided they were all gonna play some kinda card game. Well, Izzie'd be screwed in that case, as Texas Hold 'Em, poker, blackjack, go fish, Yu-Gi-Oh-- all those were pretty much the same in her eyes. Well, she wasn't no fuckin' gambler, goddammit. She had better shit to learn about. For example, did you know the tyrannosaurus rex displayed extremely limited sexual dimorphism, and only one single specimen of the species has been actually identified as male or female? See, that was the kinda shit ya had to know. Not how to 'lay down a full house' or 'flush the royal down the toilet' or whatever it was.

Having decided the game to play was some 'five card stud' or whatever, Raisa tugged again at Izzie's wrist, provoking an exasperated "Are you tryin' to get hospitalised?" from the guitarist before she danced away nimbly like some sort of tormenting nymph. Torn between a scowl and a smirk, Izzie turned her attentions away from her old band mate, and to her current ones.

"Hey. Jackasses." Izzie walked back over to her fellow bandmates, holding up the key cards. "Here." That word was her only warning before she promptly flung each card to its respective musician as though she were a ninja hurling shuriken (Cormy took his between the eyes and hit the floor like a sack of Irish potatoes). "They put you all together in a row and then stuck me in the floor above, so I guess we ain't gonna be havin' no slumber parties or whatever. How regrettable. Means now you two get to worry about Edei shankin' ya in your sleep with a letter opener." ("See?" Cormac remarked to Edei as he pulled himself up from the floor, key card clutched in his hand. "Fucking terrifying.") "For my part, I'm gonna go and put my shit away. Raisa over there wants to play some card type shit or whatever, so y'all can unleash the inner gambler in you. But me, I'm gonna go sleep."






Craig informed Jack that he'd, in fact, cut it quite a while ago, describing the experience as terrifying. "You're telling me!" Jack replied. "I'm still in shock." But of course, nobody would let the whole picture thing go-- turning to Legion's absolutely heartless guitarist, Craig remarked with a smile, "Do I even want to know what that picture is?"

Jack turned pleading eyes toward Alex, but the hint of a smile tinging her lips did not falter as she spoke softly but definitively. "All I can say is, he was real drunk, and somebody left lingerie backstage." Jack thought he noticed the vaguest widening of the embryonic smile playing at her mouth, before she added, "Santa-themed lingerie."

"And by god I was the prettiest damn Santa you ever saw," Jack retorted defensively.

"You managed to make Raisa shut up for a minute," Alex deadpanned. "That's how horrifying it was."

The bassist scowled theatrically, and shook his head. "Nobody appreciates a pretty guy in lovely clothes," he deplored. Had a certain Irish drummer with a penchant for getting drunk and then donning any dresses in the vicinity heard the Legionnaire's lamentations, he would perhaps have chimed in sympathetically, but alas, he was at that moment preoccupied with assuring Psychosis' own bassist of her immensely frightening personality.