[VIDEO] - [Private to Party Poison]

[onteamdyson]

[Kenzi turns on the camera as she reaches the top of the stairs. It shows a lovely sideways view of Sherlock's attic.]

Hey, Fluffy! How's it gooooing? You look very forgiving and reasonable today! I got a message for you. SO! Remember the dude that cut up your arm and junk? Great dude, right? Yeah. He says 'Blow me.'

[And then she waits for the inevitable face-punch.]

[Sherlock is visible in profile a few feet away as the feed begins, and as Kenzi continues he progresses through a series of stages. The first is annoyance, which is typical – nearly everybody annoys him, and Kenzi particularly so, most days. The second is equanimity, a settling of features into something which looks suspiciously as though he's doing his level best to ignore her. The final comes after Kenzi's last comment, the message to be delivered, and consists of the raising of an eyebrow.]

Hmm? Oh, not interested. Was that it?

................................................................... yep. That's it. If there's more, I'll keep you updated?

[And she is fucking OUT OF THERE. Not one scratch or verbal face-shattering. Damn. It was actually pretty freakin' disappointing. She smiles into the camera on her way out.]  A deal's a deal. Meet you at the bar!





**Blue is Sherlock Holmes.

Comments

[onteamdyson]

... People don't usually survive on cocktail freakin' cherries, dude. You need a balanced diet. Eat a pickle. Or like... eggs. With salt. [Because eggs are totally the opposite of sugar. MORE DRINKING. Why the hell had it taken her so long to check out the bar?] You got a tummy ache right noooow? Awh, poor babyface angelbutt cuddlelumps. Want some warm milk?!

[gloryisbullshit]

No. No fuckin milk, I'm so sicka milk, it makes it worse. This fucking sucks. [He glares at her, but it doesn't have all that much venom.] I'm--it's fine right now. Angelbutt? [NOT THAT IT ISN'T ACCURATE, BUT STILL.]

[onteamdyson]

In honour of your angelic butt? What the hell is wrong with angelbutt?! It's flattering.

[Just gonna push her now-empty glass closer and closer to him until he gets the incredibly subtle hint.]

Okay, what do you want to eat? I could go for a cheesy, cheesy pizza but that's not gonna happen. Unless it's from freezerland.

[gloryisbullshit]

[He winces at "cheesy, cheesy pizza" and dumps the jar of cherries in her glass. Fuck your hints.] I don't wanna eat anything. Every time I--every time I eat I feel sick. [What, he's not blushing, this isn't silly at all.]

[onteamdyson]

[DUDE! So much frowning. But the angry frowning turns to mildly concerned frowning.]

... How long has this been going on? Is this why you're freaked about mandatory med-checks? [At the risk of bodily harm, she kneels on the bar stool and reaches over the bar to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[Hi, no! His head jerks back from her hand and he bites at her fingers (not on her fingers, because SOME people in this family have boundaries, ha ha).] Stop! I don't wanna be checked cuz fuck mandatory, I get hives if I even think about mandatory, it's such a crockload and we all know Dr. Do-It is sketch out the ass, right?

[onteamdyson]

Holyshit! [Okay, well she didn't know he wasn't actually going to bite and he's right back to scary again as she pulls her fucking hand back, goddamn. Wide-eyed nodding.] Right.

But dude, you gotta eat. Maybe your stomach... shrunk. Or something. From not having a constant food supply. And you gotta get used to eating again! Or maybe you're homesick! Want me to draw you a cactus?

[Also excuse her, drinking a fucking mouthful of cherries.]

[gloryisbullshit]

I'm eating, right? I'm--pfhehe. [Drinking cherries. He gets his own drink down before reaching for the vodka he put in her glass before.] Put it down. Put it. Here. [Another inch or so to give the remaining fruit something to float in.] You wanna make me at home, get me a fuckin--car, man. A road, or--or my gun. Fuck.

[He sets the bottle down, palm rubbing where he usually sets his holster.]

[onteamdyson]

Uuuuuuuuuugh, it's so cool that you guys get freakin' LASER GUNS in the future. How even-- KK said if he had his gun and I had my sword we could see if the beams bounce off like in Star Wars. I don't blame you for missing that. They sound awesome. [Siiiiip.] Cars are tough. I'd lend you the big, yellow piece of junk if I knew which way Canada was.

[gloryisbullshit]

[Sip, snicker.] Canadian? For real?

[onteamdyson]

Yeah, for real! What's with the laughs?!

[gloryisbullshit]

I dunno, I just wonder where the mountie swag is, right? What's yellow? Whattayou got that's yellow? [Yellow is his favorite, Kenzi.]

[onteamdyson]

Ffff-- mountie swag? Oh my god don't even start on the stereotypes.

[Oooooh. Now she's grinning. She was the one that talked Bo into trading her blue piece of junk for the slightly more awesome YELLOW piece of junk.] It's a reaaaaaaaally, really old Chevelle convertible with a leather top. Guzzles gas like a motherfucker and stalls out if you don't know how to keep her going over sixty clicks, but she runs. And ... only occasionally smells like gas and pre-explosions.

[gloryisbullshit]

Only occasionally! Ah, you gotta go in for that perpetual stink or go bust! [Teasing, but what a good car.] And you drive right?

[onteamdyson]

[Whoops. There goes the grin.] Half the time. [Less than half. She drives when Bo's busy, or in trouble, or banging someone. Kenzi... is the sidekick.

There goes the rest of the drink--FUCK CHERRIES. No one saw her almost die via fruit.]

... Still cool.

[gloryisbullshit]

Half cool. [He jibes, leaning across the counter towards her.] I need a chick who can handle the curves.

[onteamdyson]

[Oh he did not just-- counter counter-leaning initiated! Boy, do you know who you are dealing with here?]

I can break into and hot-wire a car in less than thirty seconds flat. I spent all of senior year taking joyrides in sports cars worth more than this entire town. But hey, if you want Rihanna, I'll tell her when I see her.

[gloryisbullshit]

Ooh, all senior year, huh? And still just a parttime driver? [He keeps her eyes, but pauses for a slow, thoughtful drink.] Mmm--yeah, you can let'r know I'm lookin, why doncha.

[onteamdyson]

I didn't pay for the car, okay?! It's Bo's car. She drives. I ... assist. I'm on a good guy kick back home. No stealing. [She mumbles] It's a rule.

Also, p. sure Riri wouldn't be interested in your girly face. [Especially not after she throws a vodka-cherry at his dumb, girly forehead.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[Retaliatory blink! He rubs his forehead and smirks at her, reaching over to pull at her hair.] Ayaaa, don't be jealous, Halftime, I betcher ever inch the good-girl-gone-bad Rihanna was. So what, Bo's yer girl?

[onteamdyson]

[HER. HAIR. You can bet that hand is getting SLAPPED AWAY.]

Shut your face. Not jealous. And she's NOT my girl. Gross. We're like family. Ew. Dude. No. She's just... Bo. Best freakin' friend in the entire universe. [A smile] She's all I got and why I gotta get back.

[gloryisbullshit]

[Well...well, he gets that. Party actually does shut his face for a second, watching Kenzi a little softer. He nods, looking back to the last inch in his glass.] Welp. Amen, sisterfriend. [Cheers to you, and he's just gonna polish off that last swallow. A little behind, but better late than never!]

just-- ... AWWWWWWWW

[onteamdyson]

The hell are you drinking, anyway? And are you prepared to get your ass kicked by the Canadian in a game I like to call drinking with the stars? Hint. I'm the star. It's me.

; n ; also GOING TO BED GN GN

[gloryisbullshit]

[A scowl at the empty glass.] Uh...figger the whiskey I had with Stark. I think. I dunno. S'brown. Tastes like shit. [Shrug.] Bring it on.

[onteamdyson]

Stark? Who's Stark? Anyone worth knowing? [She must have missed that one when she was flipping Agent Carter off--] Yeah, thanks, babycakes. I know my colours. I was a freakin' pro at Candyland.