Difference between revisions of "Log:Smoking Hazards"

29 May, 2017

Weaver catches Olivia as she gets back to the hotel for his own bit of scolding.

Red Clover Hotel

Olivia's been out and about, playing some music, likely drinking a bit too much. In general, she seems unphased by the fact that she's been hallucinating and banned from smoking. She wanders into the hotel, yawning and rubbing at the side of her head, hair a bit mussed from who-knows-what. Maybe sleeping in a car.

"Hey you," Weaver calls to her lovingly. A little too lovingly knowing him. "Heard you've had quite the adventure last night, huh." He was idly sitting in a chair, messing around on his phone as he hops up to meet her face to face. "Doing things. Seeing stuff. Ya know? Fun shit!" he says all too cheerily.

Olivia pauses when she hears Weaver's voice, turning slowly to look at him. She peers at him a bit suspiciously as he speaks, eyes narrowing just a touch. "Yeah...?" she says slowly, not entirely sure what he's getting at. "Though I'm kinda wondering who is gossipping about me."

"Oh you know. People. They talk. They also tell me about all kinds of shit," Weaver beams. His smile is vibrant, and his mirth beyond obvious. "They tell me about birds. Books. Even about those ugly little candies grandma has, and who they're made. They also told me about something else. Can you guess what?" The question comes with a fluttering of lashes. "Well, can ya?"

"No...?" Olivia just eyes him, taking a couple steps back. She might have to run. Weaver is being more weird than usual, and she is beginning to look a little bit paranoid. "I didn't do anything."

"No, huh?" Weaver taps at his chin a few times before moving over to the couch, and plopping down on it. "Well a birdy told me that you were trying to smoke when out and about. Now, dearest and favorite cousin, I know you wouldn't be caught dead smoking." He turns to her, smiling like a shirk that's caught the scent of blood in the water. Isn't that right?"

Olivia squints a bit, pinching her forehead together as she eyes him. One hand rises, a single finger lifting. Not the middle one. Not yet. "Firstly, I'm not smoking." Second finger. "Secondly, you aren't allowed to bitch at me simply for having cigarettes on my person." Third finger. "Thirdly, I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Firstly, that's good. I was hoping I had misheard." This said with a wicked little smile from Weaver. As he goes along that cheeriness leave him. His voice drips with venom, cool and calm all the while when speaking to her. "Second, I'm not bitching, dearest cousin. Simply asking questions. Now if I was really angry or roaring about I think we'd both know it, yes? Lastly, yes, you can do whatever the hell you want. God knows I could never, ever control you. But if you wanna sing at this gala it won't mean a fucking thing if your fucking voice is gone because you smoked before knowing you're 100% the fuck solid. Because at that goddamned point I'd really be bitching you the fuck out. Yelling, upset. Maybe the fuck even disappointed. I heard that kinda feeling sucks. I should know since I got that kinda shit from mom and dad enough."

"So rather than give me the benefit of the doubt - because if anyone knows the value of my voice, it's me - you decided to more or less accuse me. Because that whole... sweet... whatever..." Olivia squints, waving one hand in his general direction. "That's all a facade, and I know it is. I know exactly what that act is. I see right through it. I didn't do anything. Which, believe me, is not the easiest thing in the world." She crosses her arms in front of her, staring at him. "I didn't come home to get regularly lectured. You aren't allowed to get pissy at me for NOT doing something. So back off before I make sure every beer you ever get is ice cold."

Weaver grouses, eyes rolling at the threat. "Same way you can make shit hotter, I can too. It's completely the same, but it's close enough. And if I was accusing you, Liv, you'd know it. I'm not in your face, there're no claws at your fucking throat, as it were, and you're free as a bird to light the couch on fire while I'm sitting on it. Now, lectures, don't you go fucking telling me about lectures. I can tell you the one I got when I fell off the roof."

"Just like you can burn your pizza?" Olivia asks drily, brows rising a bit. "I still might light the couch on fire with you on it if you keep on my ass." She sticks her tongue out at him and turns to head over to the furniture and drop herself across it. "You start lecturing me and I'm gonna fall asleep."

"Yeah, yeah. And if you fall asleep I'm gonna stick your hand in a jar of water to see what happens." Weaver chuckles, head lolling back onto the arm of the couch. "I'd also probably have Velvet do it since you're more likely to listen to her all the way through, and she's fast and strong enough that I don't think you could run out either." He laughs again, and notes, "We also both know fire doesn't scare her for a bit."

"Probably nothing, honestly." Olivia shrugs at his mention of hand-in-water. "It doesn't affect everyone, you know." She turns her head as she looks at him, tucking her arms under her head. "Velvet doesn't yell at me. So yeah, I'd probably listen to her all the way through. Yelling, though? Eh, I'm gonna tune that out. But no, fire doesn't seem to phase her. Though I don't light people on fire on purpose, as a general rule."

Weaver shrugs, and sighs. "Of course you'd know, oh fucking crusher of dreams. I can do a really good Velvet impression anyway. Like really good. I could just call you as her, and I don't even think you'd know. Actually, I bet I can do yours too."

Olivia looks at him incredulously, blinking a few times. "That's... I'm not sure if that's impressive or horrifying," she says slowly. "Or somewhere between the two. Or you're just lying out of your ass. Which is also distinctly possible. But why WOULD you want to do an impression of either of us?"

Weaver moves a bit, and sits up on the couch. He clears his throat then, hand raised to his mouth mockingly. First, comes the voice of his fiancee. "You see, Liv, it's not all that hard. It's only a matter of getting that right pitch and movement. It takes practice for most, but it's so easy." In the next breath his voice changes immediately to mirror that of Olivia's. "See? It's just a matter of ease." Weaver then shifts into hitting a few notes until he gets a bit too high, but still carries the tune with relative ease. "Easy peasy, Liv."

Olivia stares at him as he speaks, blinking in surprise as he actually manages to pull off their voices almost flawlessly. "I'm gonna go with horrifying," she finally says, rolling onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. "Because those voices coming out of your mouth are just weird. And WRONG. But now I know that you can do that, so if 'Velvet' starts saying weird shit, I'll blame you."

Weaver shakes his head as a low chuckle rumbles at the back of his throat. He lies back as before, gaze going to the ceiling in turn. "She might say some weird stuff anyway, but the thought that it'll mess with your head is good enough for me." It's easy enough to just hear the smile on his face. "Just think about it next time you wanna smoke before you're completely better. 'If I do this, Weaver's gonna leave me message of me,'" the last noted with her own voice for good measure.

"Of course it messes with my head! Why wouldn't it? Good grief." Olivia just shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes. "And it'd be worse if I was high, but since I can't smoke, I have to go looking for something else. And I don't know all the dealers here yet." Her lips purse slightly and she pulls out her phone, considering the screen briefly. "Are you guys still spying on me, by the way? Or am I done being bait for whatever you were watching for?"

"Good," Weaver reiterates. "There aren't a lot of them out here, and if you do see most of them they know not to sell you any weed or anything else you might smoke. Lest they wind up at the bottom of the fucking Tam. As for bait, nothing too major. Dr. Masters is in the clear, at least. He and I had a long chat while he fixed up a bit more of what you burned away, and I'll note that he's expensive as fucking hell."

Olivia shoots him a scowl, glowering in his direction. "I can MAKE FOOD with weed, genius," she reminds him. "But sure, if you want me to get some of the harder shit, I can do that." She grumps quietly, huffing as she looks back up towards the ceiling. "Why don't you just use the same doctors that everyone else uses? Eliteist? Or would you rather just pay the expensive doctor?"

"I know all the stuff you can make with weed. If it needs to be said for wedding gifts I wouldn't mind a wedding cake that's kinda burnt. Maybe extra burnt on one half because Vee can't tolerate it as much as I can." He shrugs to that, and sighs once more. "And it isn't about cash. Cash is easy as shit to acquire for us. I /wish/ it was just cash I owed him. It'd make my life a bit fucking easier."

One eye squints a bit at him as she peers in his direction, looking vaguely concerned and almost protective as he mentions not owing cash. "What DO you owe him?" Olivia asks, propping herself up a bit so she can watch him. "He's not going to try anything, is he? I may not be the target, but he better not be planning something."

Weaver looks over and down to her, returning her gaze with his own as he just shrugs at him. "That's for me to know. He's the same one that kept you stable without much worry for your ability to set shit on fire, too. That constituted the largest bit of what I owe him, but I'd say it's worth it." He chuckles, and leans back on the couch. "Trust, he's not gonna try shit. He's a friend."

"I remember," Olivia says, nodding slowly as he explains the identity of the doctor. "Though I'm still not sure what exactly would have triggered me to start setting things on fire randomly. I still don't remember any of that either." She shakes her head, leaning back and yawning as she closes her eyes, relaxing. "If you say so. You know him better than I do."

"I know a lotta people in this town, and out. You do too, and probably don't even think about it." He taps at his temple, smiling. "It helps a lot for a lotta shit here, too. It also means it's not as easy to hide a lotta shit, but that's a convo for another day. I think I might crash here for the night. You're welcome to take the floor unless you /really/ want this couch.