Snippet #2428035

Raisa gave the kind of smile Alex imagined looked disturbingly similar to the last sight of Ted Bundy's victims, and indicated with her head down at Alex's pants. The guitarist raised a curious eyebrow briefly before Raisa explained with a single word: "Helen?" And then she added, with a softer smile, "You can always tell when you’re on the phone with her. The love shows on your face. I've never seen you so happy as when you’re either about to spend the weekend with her or when you’re talking to her. She’s lucky to have you for a mom."

Alex couldn't help but smile uncertainly, scratching at the back of her neck through the thick mass of dreadlocks in the way. "Thanks," she ventured, even though she knew Raisa was anything but correct.

It was really only through happenstance that Raisa had come to be familiar-- if only vaguely-- with the details of Alex's family life. Liam knew only that her daughter existed-- of Helen's father, of Alex's marital status and any other such facets of her home life, she made a point of keeping him and anybody else as in the dark as she could. As for Jack, their fine bassist was probably the most blissfully ignorant person Alex had ever met: if anybody could be counted on to consistently fail to put two and two together and get the point, it was him, and she suspected he would never figure out Helen existed unless Alex, perhaps in a moment of madness, told him straight to his face "I've got a daughter", at which point he would presumably sink to his knees, look to the sky in anguish, and cry an extended, tormented "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" for no reason other than that far be it for him to pass up so shining an opportunity to be melodramatic.

As for Raisa, Alex had been convinced the moment she caught on to more than Liam was aware of that she was doomed-- the band's certified loudmouth had gotten wind of her private life. Any semblance of confidentiality was about to go out the window-- or so Alex had feared. It turned out she had misjudged Raisa: she'd kept the whole thing quiet, such that she'd even interacted with Helen in the past, albeit in fairly limited fashion. Sure, the whole artifice couldn't be maintained forever, and inevitably some things slipped through Alex's radar, but as long as she could manage, she was going to make sure her private life remained just that.

... but why is that necessary, exactly?

Well, if there was one thing Raisa's off-the-wall psychosis could be thanked for, she never let anybody sit around brooding and stewing in their own angst for very long. She changed tack-- at first only partially, and then completely. "Next time you talk to her, tell her I'm collecting those t-shirts for her like she asked!" Raisa declared. "She'll be the only kid with a full collection of Hard Rock tees anymore. Do people still collect those?"

Alex suppressed a chuckle. "I'm sure she'll be delighted. Thanks." And she figured that'd be that, except that instead of turning and running off (probably through Alex's own hotel room), Raisa, as should have been expected, did something unexpected: she suddenly leaned forward, hopped off the railing, and embraced Alex. It was a quick movement, and she released too quickly for Alex to really hug back, leaving Alex gawking briefly at the drummer as she proceeded to clamber on up onto the railing and then leapt over onto the other balcony, nearly giving Alex a heart attack and startling her out of her brief funk.

"Come play cards!" Raisa called from the other balcony, as though she hadn't totally just nearly fallen several stories to a death that would have rivalled any of the Psychosis lyrics Alex had read for brutality. "I have some moonshine and a full deck. We can play poker!" And with that, she vanished into her room, leaving Alex torn between chuckling, shaking her head ruefully, and rebuking the drummer for being so reckless.

But then, it wouldn't have been Raisa if she hadn't been reckless... or really, if she'd listened to Alex rebuking her for it.






For Jack's part, he was left where he'd been standing-- abandoned by his band mate, adjusted to her malice though he was, and by his old friend, who, in a betrayal as painful and unexpected as Benedict Arnold defecting to the British during the American Revolution, had left Jack behind to help out some other bassist (I thought I was the only one for him! Jack cried despondently, wringing his hands in despair).

Then, once he was done appropriately over-reacting to the situation, as was simply required by his code of morals, Jack remembered something about cards at Raisa's and decided fuck it, he was down.

It looked like Liam was gone too-- hell, even the other Psychosis dude, the skinny Irish fucker with the battle jacket, had departed, leaving Jack dead last. This is a sorry state of affairs, he mused, glancing around, looking like a fool standing there alone with his luggage. Well, the hell with it-- cards it was! And maybe alcohol. Probably alcohol. Alcohol was nice-- in moderation and all that sorta rot. The last thing he needed was to spot Raisa's underwear or some shit lying around and then wake up a few hours later with Alex standing over him, a smirk pulling at her lips and incriminating evidence saved permanently into the electronic vault of her phone.

Not that Raisa was the type to leave lingerie lying around. Jack was just the type to get drunk and find it.

He shook his head. "No time for such morose reflections," he assured himself, before turning and striking a pose, pointing heroically towards the elevator and declaring in a very overwrought English accent, "For the red-haired maiden beckons, that we may gamble and drink and be merry!" And then, absolutely disregarding the lobby full of people he'd just given a heart attack, Jack strode up to the elevator, and rode off.

He reached the floor in question, glancing at his key card to figure out which room was his. As Raisa had said, the rooms assigned to each Legionnaire (he was gonna make that term happen, goddammit, and to hell with his bandmates if they were gonna be all dull about it) were in a row, and one of them was ajar-- musta been Raisa's. Using this knowledge, Jack was able to gauge that his room was not, in fact, next to Raisa's, which elicited a victorious cry of triumph, like a conquering warlord beholding their newly-begotten realms, or an overly dramatic bassist celebrating not having to room next to a psychopath.

About that time, Alex stepped out of the door adjacent to Raisa's, raising a hand in greeting to Jack. "Milady," he greeted her with a low bow, before they both started for the door into Raisa's room. Alex knocked politely on the frame of the door, followed shortly thereafter by Jack sauntering in and declaring in a loud voice, "LET'S GET OUR ASSORTED BOOZING AND GAMBLING ON MOTHERFUCKERS."





"Hey, where'd everybody go?"

In the lobby, one Cormac 'Cormy' McMurphy found himself alone and baffled. It seemed he'd blinked his eyes and everybody was gone. "Goddamn band'a ninjas," he grumbled to himself, before trying to remember if anyone had ever actually mentioned where the crazy redhead chick was. He knew they were supposed to be playing cards, sure, but did any of them know where in the balls her room was?

".... shoulda gone with Edei and Craig," he rebuked himself as he started for the elevator with a sigh. He'd probably end up completely lost, wandering the halls of the hotel listlessly until a voice over the hotel PA announced, "Cormac McMurphy, please come to the lobby front desk, your legal guardian Izzie Martinez is waiting for you, and she's very upset with you, young man."

He wouldn't have put it past Izzie to do that again.







Meanwhile, in her hotel room, Izzie noticed a disturbance in the force, as though there was an NES somewhere in the vicinity, and felt a strong urge to start blastin' some 8-bit motherfuckers in a game of Mega Man. Shaking her head, she returned to her book.