Somethin' Bad About to Happen (Arrival)

[unraisehell]

WHO: Wynonna Earp
WHERE: South Village Fountain
WHEN: 9/15
OPEN TO: Way way way OTA
WARNINGS: None yet

---

a. Initial Arrival
Wynonna hasn't been swimming since she was in Greece.

This water is significantly colder than the Mediterranean, and it's dark, and she is really not loving it. Especially since she doesn't remember jumping in to any water. She remembers sitting with Waverly outside, huddled against the -30 chill in blankets and parkas with the wine keeping them as warm as the fire and talking about where they wanted to be buried. You know, normal sisterly bonding. She thinks she remembers going to bed, but there was a lot of wine so it gets fuzzy after that.

She only struggles for a few moments, before kicking upwards, towards the light, and the moment she breaks the surface she clings to the stone edge, her face a picture of pure panic- but not for herself.

"Waverly?!" she forces out after the water from her lungs. "Waves, baby girl, where are you?!"

She's about to dive back under to start looking for her sister when she hears sounds of life from beyond the well.

b. Sometime later.

She is dry. That's about the most she can say about things that have improved about this situation so far. A change into dry clothes, a quick look through the supplies she had with her on arrival. She's got the red scrubs and a white tank top on, with the scrub pants tucked in to the hiking boots.

Everything about her says New Arrival- the look of confused panic mixed with curiosity, the pristine scrubs, and the fact that she's searching every face she sees for any mark of familiarity.

Comments

[quinientos]

He does like her already, even if he hasn't exactly managed to find himself a steady stream of alcohol (or coffee). "There's a bottle of it at the inn I stay at, but it's not mine. I have to borrow it," he deadpans, though he doesn't give it back.

"What I have are smokes," he offers, because there are plenty of them. Smokes and his lasso and the way he works at it with his fingers, eyeing her. "Wynonna Earp," he echoes. "What's your poison? I bet we can find some, if we look and steal hard enough."

[unraisehell]

"You've got a friend who lets you borrow their booze?" she asks, eyebrow quirked. "You'll have to introduce me. And my poison is anything that takes the edge off that won't kill me."

[quinientos]

"I have a friend who showed me where some people keep their stills," Vasquez says, and so long as he only takes a drink or two, no one really notices. He shrugs and nods towards the inn again. "It'll strip off your tongue," he warns, but he's grinning wildly at it.

"It won't kill you, though," he promises. "Not if you've got a good liver," he adds, with a challenge in his eyes.

[unraisehell]

"My liver can take a beating, don't worry. And what's this friend's name? Maybe I oughta look him up," she says with levity, but definitely hoping to get a name. The more of those she knows in a new place, the better.

[quinientos]

"Her," Vasquez counters, though not a her that he spends much time with, because he's heard rumours that she's a vampire. There's some things that his mind can process and there's others that he doesn't do so well with. The vampire things? Not so good.

"She makes moonshine and it'll strip your tongue," he says joyfully, like that's a good thing. "Some people water it down with fruit, but it just reminds me of home."

[unraisehell]

"You sound like a friend of mine." Which is maybe understating the relationship she has with Doc, but... well. "There somewhere a little less... town-square public than that inn to get smashed? I'm not exactly up for a crowd right now. A campfire and a flask is probably more my speed."

[quinientos]

Vasquez grins when she says that, deciding to roll with it. "Look, see? We're already friends," he says, with the hint of a man who's probably not a good friend to have, but he's fun. He's a good time. Plus, he's very good at making there be action.

He cocks his head towards one of the other houses that he's been using for privacy. "Come on. I don't think campfire, but what about some empty rooms?" He's practically a professional when it comes to finding places to squat, seeing as he'd done it to save his life for three months.

[unraisehell]

"And you're going to be a total gentleman about getting a lady alone in a room with paint-stripper quality booze, I'm sure," she says with a lazy smile, though no hesitation in following him to the nearest empty house.

"In the time between now and meeting Drunk Wynonna, you can tell Sober Wynonna what I need to know in order to not die while I'm stuck here."

[quinientos]

"You want to scream and kick at me, we can do that, but I think you'll like drinking it much more," Vasquez insists, heading towards the house so he can pour out drinks using the kitchen's glasses, glancing over his shoulder to her, grinning.

"You're not doing to die. If I'm alive, anyone can be alive," he insists, handing the glass over to her. "How you survive? Don't piss off our captors," he says. "Other than this? I don't know, honestly."

[unraisehell]

"If there's screaming and kicking after a few drinks, believe me, cowboy, it'll be you and not me," she says with a mischievous grin that wouldn't look out of place on a gunslinger or a saloon girl. She seems like a mix of both, to be honest. She keeps putting her hand to her hip like she expects something heavy to be there.

[quinientos]

He makes a face, seeing as he doesn't think he'd mind a little screaming and kicking, so long as it's the kind where everyone gets to enjoy themselves. He eyes her up and down, slowly, but with clear intent. "You make it sound like a bad thing," he jokes.

He sips at the drink, slouching in the chair that he's gotten used to, watching the way she moves for her hip. "What this place is? I don't know. Not sure I give a fuck. I'm here, I'm safe, I'm fed," he lists. "I have smokes, and there's beautiful women." Beautiful people, but he doesn't say that one out loud.

[unraisehell]

"I have people back home who need me. But until I know what I'm doing about that, I'd just like as much distraction from thinking about that as possible. So don't think this is getting you my dowry or anything," she teases, finding a couch to sprawl out on. "How do you get the smokes, anyway? Someone here grows tobacco?"

[quinientos]

Vasquez is very good at being a distraction from thinking, at least when he's not in the middle of his own awful spiral. Lucky for her, right now, he's not. He gestures to her with his cigarette, shrugging absently. "A box of tobacco and rolling papers showed up."

Sure, he's almost a quarter through the box, but it had been a big one and he smokes a lot. "I think maybe they like me a little, but not a lot, otherwise I would've gotten my guns and some tequila."

Mostly the guns, though, he still feels lost without the weight of them, even the absent spinning he'd do to keep himself occupied.

[unraisehell]

"Well, you are pretty likable," she allows, with a flash of a smile that's playfully predatory. She stands, and makes the trip across the room to his chair with languid ease. She crawls into his lap with the confidence of an overly-affectionate cat, swinging her legs over his to straddle him.

Leaning in to kiss him is enough to get her heart racing- which is when the bubble that is her scrub-right decides to kick in, popping in to existence so fast it sends her flying backwards and onto the floor in a heap of completely unfeline grace.

"-the fuck?"

[quinientos]

Things had almost been going so very well, Vasquez leaning in to collect on that pretty kiss it looks like he's going to get, but then she stops. She stops like there's something blocking them, which makes him curse because he has red scrubs too and he remembers this happening.

The face he's making is far from graceful, given that it's closer to a pout than anything.

"It does that," he says glumly. "Sometimes, when you're feeling stressed or other things, you shield yourself like this." It had happened to him with animals and unknown situations, not when a beautiful woman had been about to kiss him.

[unraisehell]

Wynonna doesn't bother getting up when he explains. She just flops down on to her back, defeated, and a little pathetic.
"The universe is punishing me," Wynonna says, looking a little stunned. "And it's doing it ironically. 'Hey, Town Bicycle, have your own personal super-powered chastity belt.'"

She's not whining. Really. She totally can not hear Doc stressing the first syllable in her name as she crosses her arms over her chest and just plain openly pouts.

"Not cool. So not cool." And then she can't help but giggle.

"Oh god I finally get to be the one to say this: I swear, This Never Happens to Me."

[quinientos]

Vasquez can't help his snort, thinking that this is definitely an unfortunate thing that he's not liking, but he's not complaining as loudly as her, so maybe he thinks he's the winner here. "It's not nice to tell me you want to touch me everywhere when you can't even get close enough for me to get my hands on you," he complains.

Slumping back in his seat, he reaches for his cigarette so he can start again. "Let's get drunk?" he suggests, as an alternative.

[unraisehell]

"Try to take it as a compliment- feels like this is connected to adrenaline, whatever it is," she says, and tries not to think too hard about what an automatic defense mechanism is going to mean for her sex life, given she's never enjoyed sex without at least a little risk.

"Drunk sounds real good."

[quinientos]

"I don't get to be fucked or even go down on you, how is that a compliment?" Vasquez complains with a gesture of his free hand at her, like he's bemoaning the state of the world. Shaking his head, he decides to work on the moonshine like it will make him feel better.

He's definitely going to have some blue balls to deal with later. "You want a smoke? Or are you going to push that away too?"

[unraisehell]

"Well, there's nothing stopping you from looking, even if you can't touch," she counters playfully, recovering some of her former grace in a languid stretch that used to up her tips by about ten percent back at the Willow's. "Believe me, I'd be taking you up on those offers- admittedly maybe reverse the order with a side of- no, I need to stop. Going in to detail there would just be cruel to both of us."

She's looking at him like a starving woman looks at a bakery display. A bakery display of erotic cakes in West Hollywood.

[quinientos]

This is very unfair to him, honestly. He meets a beautiful woman who seems to share his fondness for physical activity and there's a bubble around her that won't let him touch. Fuck this place, he thinks, and he decides that at least he can make suggestions.

"So instead, what if I touch me and you touch you," he says, which won't be anywhere near as fun, but...well, better than nothing.

[unraisehell]

"A little low-tech Facetime and chill. I like it," Wynonna says as she gets to her feet. She slows her movements, though they're not exactly graceful- confident, and practiced, but with some noticeable clumsiness. On stage at the Willow, she was never actually turned on- drunk, maybe, but dancing for the scum of Purgatory was always done numbly and automatically.

She doesn't make the act of undressing a tease, though she's at least careful not to just tear the red scrubs off. Barely.

"Well," she says, as she starts to tug off her underwear. "At least you get to appreciate this before the Brazilian grows out."

[quinientos]

Vasquez doesn't know half of these words that she's saying, but it's good that she's getting undressed, which means he should follow suit. Off goes the hat and his vest, there go his boots, and he's quickly divested of everything with a wicked smirk on his face, settling back with his pants unbuttoned, but not off.

They might be doing this together, but he wants some dignity in case someone comes crashing in. "I don't know what Brazilians have to do with anything here."

[unraisehell]

She knows the expression of a cowboy failing to grok her train of thought, and gives him an understanding look. "Sorry. I'll... try to stay more on task," she says, guiding him into an exchange of increasingly heated words of a non-argumentative nature. Even if some of her modern slang fails to paint a picture, context is provided in spades.