[Open] Do you feel the chill crawling at the back of your neck?

[seeingthings]

Who: Richie Gecko, Seth Gecko, Others
Where: The Lodge
When: Near the end of and post snow storm.
Rating: Swearing, otherwise TBD
Summary: Richie comes back from out of the snowstorm after looking for Kate in a pretty sorry state. Angst ensues.
The Story:

[Closed] For Seth

Richard was nearly frozen to the bone when he finally stumbles back into their room.

He and Clementine hadn't saved anyone. It had been too late to do anything for her friend except shoot her, and Kate hadn't been out there. He'd known that going in that she probably wouldn't be anywhere. That she had probably gone home the way so many people did. But she was going home to die, the same way she would have died out in the storm, so what was really the difference?

There's frost forming on the edges of his skin, in his eyebrows. It's only the fact that he's bundles in heavy coats and gloves and a scarf that he made it back at all, and it was likely through sheer willpower.

He knew Kate's disappearance would fuck up his brother too. Losing both of them wasn't gonna fly.

The door shuts behind him and he leans against it, sliding down until he hits the floor, his expression vacant and lost.

He's not taking this well.

[OTA]

He's not his usually self as he roams around the Lodge. He's always got a bottle of liquor on him, it's never full, and his tie is half undone and hanging loosely around his neck.

This place has never been more fucked up. And to think most people considered this event a 'fun' one. Fuck that.

No skiing for him. He's staying in, people watching, and drinking by himself for the most part, but he's not going to bite if people bother him.

Probably, anyway.

Comments

[screwedontight]

From the first moment Seth hasn't liked this event. Snow and cold and people yelling and throwing shit. He's almost more willing to head back into the labs or something. At least there he could figure shit out. Here it was waiting for things to go bad because this is Wonderland and that's what happens.

He just hasn't counted on it being this bad.

He's spent a lot of time during the event drinking and playing cards, getting to know people and trying to at least enjoy the lodge. Except he's spent the last few hours trying to find his brother and Kate. It's not unusual for them all to have their own time, but usually when he wants to find them, he can.

Except this time.

A couple of times he pauses at the window, looking out into the snow. Sure maybe Kate was out there, playing and actually being a young woman and having a good time. He can't imagine his brother being out in the snow though. Much as Seth dislikes it, he can't imagine Richie physiology handling cold and wet and snow very well.

By the time he'd gone back to their room, Seth was cranky and childish and sitting on the bed tossing cards into the trash bin. Or missing tossing cards into the trash bin given how much he's had to drink while trying to hunt them down. The door pops open and he shifts, a sharp sarcastic, likely to start a fight comment on his tongue.

Until he sees his brother, takes in the way he looks, the fact his dumb ass has been out in the snow. But it's his expression, the defeated nature that gets him even as he is on his feet in an instant, coming to drop to one knee in front of Richie, knowing he has to get him out of those wet clothes and warm. Fast.

"Where the hell is she?"

Asking because he wants to be wrong. He needs to be wrong. He didn't accept this place, embrace what they could have here, all to have the fuckers behind this shit jerk her away. He is ready even to hear the snow got her and she'll be back in a few days than face the truth. A truth that would have sent Richie out in the snow to die.

[seeingthings]

The cold seems to set in further despite the warmth of the room, likely because he's finally stopped moving. He winces painfully at Seth's question, because he's gonna have to answer it, and he's not gonna like what it is.

He's barely accepting it himself.

"I don't know."

He has to force the words out past lips that were the wrong color. He doesn't say more yet, mostly because it's difficult to speak rather than not having more to say. He wasn't sure she was out in the snow at all, but she sure as fuck wasn't inside. That didn't leave a lot of options.

[screwedontight]

His hands jerk at the scarf, tugging it away and letting it falls. Working to get layers off, knowing if he doesn't get Richie warm, Kate won't be the only one gone. And he believes it has to be that. Death. Since moment one he came to Wonderland, everyone has been telling him about all the deaths, how many die every event.

Kate's dead, and those thoughts hurt as bad as realizing his brother died. But it's not permanent. Almost like Richie being turned, she would be back. She had to be. It doesn't occur to him that there's any other choice, because that's more permanent than his brain can process.

"Help me get you out of this shit before you're with her!" Because after the tear, after watching Richie die there in the Titty Twister, he can't watch it for real here in Wonderland.

[seeingthings]

"I'm not gonna fucking die, dude. Chill."

See that shitty pun, Seth? It was mostly unintentional, but he's serious. He can't die from this, he'll just fall into blissful unconsciousness until he's warm enough to wake up again. Which out in the storm might have been a problem. Now that he's made it inside, not so much.

"It fucking hurts, though." He winces as he shifts his body to get some of these soaked layers off, because they're less soaked and more half frozen against his skin.

[screwedontight]

Seth rolled his eyes, clapping his brother against the shoulder. "You're not fucking funny, and we don't know that it won't. You should see how bad you look."

Because that's a helpful comment, but it's the truth. They have no idea what that kind of cold might due to Richie. Not given all their time in Mexico. Not like they really had the desire to travel that far north of the border either.

"Is there anywhere you didn't search? And why didn't you tell me you were out there?" Shaking his head, not accepting the true reality yet. "How many days is it? Three?" His voice tightens, trying not to let it crack in his thoughts about Kate having died out there, even if she'll be coming back.

[seeingthings]

What Seth said was true enough. He sure felt like death forzen over, and just because Santanico could survive being on ice didn't mean he could. She was a whole different kind of monster.

He grits his teeth as he tries to bend his arm enough to pull his shirt off over his head, feeling the cold that's settled in his limbs trying to resist the movement.

"Something like that, I don't know." It felt like a lot longer than three days. It felt like forever. "She's not out there. She's not anywhere. And I didn't tell you I was out there 'cause you would have followed me and I'm not exactly thinking very clearly if you couldn't tell."

[screwedontight]

Can Richie survive it and is Seth taking the chance. Never the same thing, not now, not in this place. Especially not in this moment.

"She has to be, or have been," he says, voice rough and broken as he says it. "I'm not accepting the other option. She'll be back." She has to have died. Dead means she comes back. Otherwise it just means...

"Come on. Get on your feet and get in bed," he says, moving to stand up and offering Richie his hand. Offering a hand that is shaking, not even trying to hide that. "And yeah, I would have followed you. We're doing things together again." It was bitter, harsh in a way but it was all emotions that Seth has no idea how to express.

About losing Kate. About losing his brother. About what he has come to accept in Wonderland in a short time and now he's looking at losing. Again.

[postictal]

The cold might've been more of a novelty if Tim weren't so used to the crisp winters so very characteristic of Alabama. Hauling himself through the snow in the attempt to get a concussion in a fun, socially acceptable way isn't his idea of a great time, but at least the place is warm.

Thing is, he's still gotta step outside if he wants a smoke. And since Jay - went the way he was always going to, he's rocketed up to something like a pack a day. It's bad. It's bad, and it's revolting, and his fingertips smell like nicotine and he probably smells like smoke all the damn time now, but what's he gonna do?

Take it lying down.

There's an unlit one held between his teeth when he stumbles across a guy in the lodge looking even worse for wear than Tim does, despite the fact that he's still moving gingerly, his chest and ribs aching from that guy with the fucking - sword, or whatever it was that slashed him up.

It feels wrong to impose. Tim sure as hell wouldn't want anyone imposing on his behalf, for looking the way he does.

He hesitates a moment at the door, on the way out. Eventually settles for something that might be slightly more welcome than an inane inquiry regarding the state of Richie's well-being. He fetches the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering it to the guy who looks like he's probably been drinking a while.

"Want one?"

[seeingthings]

It's almost as if he doesn't even realize the other guy is there until he speaks, his eyes sliding over to take in the sight of the cigarette.

He almost turns him down, but honestly, a cig sounds really fucking good right now.

"Yeah, man. Thanks."

He shoves himself out of the seat after only a slight hesitation; he nearly just wants to say fuck it and smoke the thing inside, but he doesn't want to deal with people bitch and moaning about it. Instead, he takes the pack after getting off his ass, pulling one from the pack before handing it back.

He's got the bottle of booze in his other hand, waving it slightly. "I'll share too if you want."

[postictal]

Tim lights up his own before offering the lighter to Richie as he nudges the door open with the toe of one shoe. He's got little more than a jacket, but he's not likely to be out here long. The nicotine will warm him up, anyway.

His eyes are dry, at least. He inhales a long drag, one corner of his mouth twisting ruefully.

"Can't, actually. Thanks, though."

Not simply won't, but can't; medication doesn't mix really well with alcohol.

[seeingthings]

Richie has his suit jacket on, at least, but he's nearly cold-blooded in a technical way, and he had too close of a call with the storm earlier. He won't be out long, but the liquor in his veins will make him feel like he can stay out longer than he probably should.

"No problem."

More for him.

He pops the end of the cig in his mouth, lighting up before passing the lighter back to Tim once they're outside. He leans against the outer wall of the lodge just off of the front door, dragging in a long inhale and holding it before letting it out the side of his mouth, the cigarette never leaving its spot from between his lips.

[postictal]

"Not a fan of this event, huh?" It's an assumption, but he doubts it's that big a stretch. He might not be able to drink himself, but he recognizes the signs of someone else who's chosen to up and make a weekend out of drowning their sorrows. Some vices are simply inescapable.

He'd know.

[seeingthings]

"I'm cold-blooded."

He says it as if that's normal and explains everything. Except it doesn't, and it's sort of a lie. While that part certainly sucks, that isn't the reason he's drinking himself into oblivion.

"Someone I know got sent home."

He tries to keep his voice as even and apathetic as he can when he says it. It's easier with the liquor burning through his veins not to care so much.

[choosetruth]

[Georgia's mostly staying in herself, which means among other things, she's pretty aware of who else is in here. And who is clearly not doing well. It's probably the third or fourth time she's seen Richie walk by looking miserable and drunk when she finally puts down her book and gets up.]

Not a fan of the cold?

[seeingthings]

Considering it's nearly killed me twice since I got dragged here, no not really.

[He takes another drink out of the bottle in his hand.]

Didn't like it much before then, either.

[choosetruth]

As a born and bred Californian, I can sympathize. [She nods at the bottle.] But it hasn't driven me to drink yet.

[seeingthings]

It'd be pretty fucking weird for me to drink just because it's cold outside.

[He finally decides to spin the cap back onto the bottle and set it down. For now. It's almost empty anyway.]

I mean, there's a reason one mansion has two fucking bars in it. Wonderland drives everyone to drink with all its bullshit.

[choosetruth]

And if the worst thing about this event is the weather, it'll still rank in my top ten.

[Wonderland isn't messing with her mind. She has access to Coke. Nothing's tried to kill her. Maybe her standards have gotten pretty low, but that's just about heaven as far as she's concerned.]

So what is it, then?

[seeingthings]

[He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, is tempted to tell her to fuck off, but takes a drink out of his bottle instead before he answers.]

My girl went missing a couple days ago.

[If she'd died, she should be back by now, which makes it pretty likely the other option is what's going on here.

She's just gonna die permanently instead.]

[beatupgrass]

You smell more like liquor than I do.

[which is saying something, because Rocket has spent half this event in a whiskey-soaked coma all on his own. call it a disdain for the cold, combined with a desire to not feel obligated to get involved if this event turned "not fun" or call it what it is- lingering unpleasantness from coming back to Wonderland after being home.

either way, the result is liquor. and Richie's hitting the bottle way harder- the smell is enough to wake him up as Richie passes by the chair he's claimed for himself.] And I'd be bathin' in the stuff if I thought I could get it out of my hair.

[seeingthings]

Bathing in it would be a fucking waste.

[He looks over at Rocket, squinting through his glasses, as if it's hard to see. He's fucking 20/20 without them, so he's probably just dizzy. Would serve him right, really.]

You gonna join me or stand there judging me?

[beatupgrass]

I can't do both? I'm an avid multitasker. [he digs the flask he's been using out of the chair cushions and moves over.] I'm gonna go out on a big limb here and assume this ain't about being pissy 'cause of the cold.

[seeingthings]

It almost fucking killed me again, but no.

[He knows he doesn't have the coordination to get up and get the fuck out of this conversation, but at least it's Rocket and not someone who's gonna want him to cry on their shoulder or something.]

Kate's missing. Or gone. Or whatever.

[As he takes another drink from the bottle to try and erase the fact he had to say that at all.]

[beatupgrass]

Aw man. [he flinches. maybe the old Rocket would have told him to suck it up. there's a dozen or so other broads, but old Rocket was a dick who found personal delight in little things like making people who cared about him despise him. new Rocket is... working on it.]

It fuckin' sucks. Don't matter if you've been here three minutes or three years.

[seeingthings]

One of the last things I did before I got here was watch her die. Two bullets to the back, clean through. Wouldn't let me save her.

[No matter how much he understood why she might have made that decision, it still stung. It always did.]

She didn't know. I never told her.