[ One of the many grand perks of traveling with Flagg is that people don't ask too many questions. Granted, there weren't many people around to ask questions the first time Lloyd joined up with him. ]
How 'bout a long island.
[ Something strong and sweet.
Lloyd joins him at the bar in one of the newly vacated seats and has a look around. It's a run of the mill dive bar with a sticky floor, split bar stools repaired with duct tape, and a bathroom probably rife with hepatitis, blow jobs in broken stalls, and drug deals. ]
[ The bartender turns to face them silently, as if in a daze ]. A long island for my friend, and a white russian for me. Keep 'em coming, too.
[ And the bartender obeys, mixing up the two drinks and depositing them in front of Flagg and Lloyd before returning to conversation with other customers like nothing happened. Flagg giggles, taking a sip of his drink. People are so fun to toy with.
Speaking of: ] You want some entertainment?
[ He glances over his shoulder. A few middle aged guys playing pool. Tensions seem to be running a little high, he could easily start something. ]
[ Lloyd takes up his drink with a grin, looking up and down the bar at the other patrons. It's always fun to see Flagg mess with people, though there is that small part that doesn't like the idea of it being done to himself.
His attention turns to Flagg and he looks over toward the pool table, half turned in his seat. ]
How entertainin' could two old fucks playing pool be?
[ One of them steps away to go to the washroom, and Flagg takes notice. Now's his time. ]
You just sit back and watch. [ He stands up, making his way to the washroom where he leans against the doorframe and waits outside. He's not a schoolgirl, he has no use for gabbin' in some shit-stained public washroom.
As soon as the man gets out of the washroom, Flagg swings an arm around his shoulder like an old friend, grins wide and vicious, whispers something in his ear, and returns to the bar to take another sip of his drink. ] Any second now.
[ Like clockwork, the guy Flagg spoke to throws a punch at one of his competitors, yelling something about being a cheating bastard trying to swindle him out of his rent. There's a special kind of rage in him, one that Flagg almost certainly instilled, one that passes through his white knuckles and into the other guy's jawbone like a disease until soon all four of 'em are fighting like rabid dogs.
Flagg watches like a kid at the circus. He's even conjured up a little red-and-white striped bag of popcorn to enjoy the show with. ]
[ Lloyd does as he's told, spinning his barstool fully around so he can lean his back against the bar and cross his legs. He sips idly at his drink, eyes following Flagg until he disappears back toward the dirty bathrooms. When he comes back, there's a wicked grin that reminds him of the big bad wolf. What large teeth you have.. Or maybe the Cheshire cat poem about the crocodile.
How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws.
It's like witnessing the gladiator pit with less frill and no weapons. The carnage is about the same in spirit, bloodthirsty and begging for some broken teeth. Some poor bastard trying to act like a bouncer tries to break it up but gets an elbow to the face for all his trouble. Lloyd half turns in his seat so he can shake his empty glass at the bartender and pick up another drink. One thing he loves about shit bars is they definitely don't skimp on the liquor. ]
Damn, what'd you even say to 'im? [ He watches, unconcerned as one of the burly pool players hits the ground, out for the count. ]
[ Yet another talent of Flagg's: he could list off the toppings on a pizza for all he cared and by the time it reached the other person's ears it would've been twisted into something that sent them into a maddened rage. The words were secondary to the intent. Maybe you don't hold a single grudge, but that still doesn't protect you from the Dark Man's siren song of hatred.
A tall, decorative plant sitting in a ceramic pot in the corner of the room starts to wilt. ]
You're gonna want to drink faster if you want a good buzz going. [ Assuming the version of Lloyd that was necromanced could still get drunk. Boy, would he be furious if he couldn't. ] I imagine they'll be kicking us all out soon.
[ But for now, the brawl continues, each splatter of blood making him lick his teeth. The hypnotized bartender keeps bringing drinks at their request, and doesn't even ask for payment. ]
[ He doesn't need to be told twice, knocking back what he's got in a few mouthfuls so he can pick up the pace. After being brought back from the dead, he deserves a buzz at the very least. So far, he's not feeling it, but he can probably chalk it up to feeling keyed up before he started drinking. It'll probably hit him before they get kicked out. That's what he tells himself, anyway. ]
You think?
[ Watching the chaos spread is really something else. What started with two ended up involving four, then six as others tried to break up the fight, only to be dragged further into it. One thing's for sure, whatever darkness has taken hold of them spreads a hell of a lot faster than Trips. Lloyd takes a few moments to watch Flagg taking in the chaos he'd caused with that almost hungry look. ]
[ Flagg sips his drink slowly. He's not seeking a buzz; he's long since given up on that. No, the only buzz he'd get was from violence and hatred and chaos, like the kind going on in front of them right now. The taste is what satisfies him, and the fire that goes down his throat. He can still feel that. ]
I think at least one of these gents is gonna pass out in the drunk tank and never wake up. [ Another sip. ] But we'll be curled up all cozy-like in the shadows of some dark alleyway by then.
[ It doesn't even cross his mind that Lloyd might be bothered by the prospect of hunkering down on cold concrete. It was how Flagg rested when he travelled alone, sinking so deep into the shadows that he was near invisible until night fell and he roamed the streets with bright eyes and a brighter grin once more. He'd never had a companion in times like this, and whatever humanity remained in him wasn't enough to make him stop and consider that Lloyd, who was mostly human, would want a proper bed.
Whatever, if Lloyd complained he'd find a motel or something. ]
[ He finishes his current drink, chewing on a few ice cubes as the chaos continues to grow and Flagg talks next to him. It's hard to imagine which one of them is going to fall asleep and not wake up, because it could be any of them, but he doesn't really care about one drunk nobody. When those last words sink in, Lloyd's attention focuses on Flagg in disappointed surprise. ]
We're gonna sleep outside? ...In an alley?
[ It's an extreme step down from Vegas. He knows that it wouldn't be the same, but sleeping outside was for campers and hobos. Neither of which is anything Lloyd considers himself to be. ]
[ He stares at Lloyd for a moment, and there's something almost hurt in his eyes, or maybe it's just the way the light catches that makes him look that way. Hard to imagine a thing like Flagg being hurt. ]
That's my nature, Lloyd. Outside, in the shadows. [ Would Lloyd accept the real Randall Flagg without the glamour of Vegas? Who knows. He thinks he's more fun like this. No stress of running an empire, he can do as he pleases and go where the wind takes him. Where he might have snapped at Lloyd for questioning him in Vegas, here he just shrugs.
Lloyd - delicate as humans were - probably just wanted some place warm and soft to lay his head. Alright, fine. ]
[ Something about that expression gives him pause, and he gapes, quick to speak after Flagg does. ]
I don't mean any disrespect. [ He has to at least make that clear, he knows what happens to people who disrespect Flagg. Even if he might deserve some of it after Vegas. Lloyd had given him his word, after all, and he's still bonded by that. ]
Seeing you so long in a certain way makes it hard to see it different.
[ He ducks his head, grateful for the compromise and offers a smile. ]
[ An old motel room isn't as glamorous as the penthouse suite and in a way this version of Flagg was the old motel room to the ruler-of-Vegas Flagg's penthouse suite. But there is a certain delight in his eyes as he watches the chaos, the same kind there was when he met Lloyd and in the early days of Vegas before the weight of the responsibility started to get to him. ]
I was around long before Vegas and I'll be around long after. [ This is, however, the first time he's found himself wanting a company, and he supposes if he wants that he'll have to tend to Lloyd's silly human needs as much as Lloyd will have to learn to tolerate his little 'quirks'. ]
You got a buzz going yet? I don't imagine we'll get much more drinking in.
[ Flagg's helpfully jammed the phone lines so any attempt to call the cops won't work, but people are already being ushered outside. ]
Hard not to see that just lookin' at you, ya know?
[ Flagg has a way of blending in while simultaneously sticking out in a way that makes you know deep down that he's too big for something so fleeting as life is. Being around him is like being caught in it, wading through something thick and inky but also like he sees some sort of value in someone so tarnished. Like finding a diamond in the rough, but the diamond is just a dirty, listless pebble people keep kicking about.
There was a reason that Lloyd came to the conclusion that if Flagg had really been outside his cell that he had to be the devil. Yet, he'd thrown his lot in with him anyway. As if there'd ever been any other choice to make. He doesn't regret it, he didn't want to die and Flagg had appeared in his darkest hour. Who gave a shit what form their savior showed up in, right?
Pursing his lips, he looks down at his empty glass and sighs. ]
Not how I usually like it, but it's gettin' there.
[ Lloyd slides out of his seat and straightens out the wrinkles in his shirt. ]
[ He takes Lloyd by the wrist and although nothing seems different from their point of view, to the patrons and staff in the bar it's like they fade into the shadows, forgotten. Later they'll go home and wonder if they'd imagined the strange tall man with the sharp smile and his travelling companion, if they thought about it at all.
He drags Lloyd out of the bar and back into the night streets, still under the cover of shadow. No one actually looks at them, but a few people stop and tense up as they pass by. ]
That was fun, wasn't it?
[ It's late enough that the stores, aside from bars and clubs, are all closed, but they pass by some clothing shops and what's in the window seems right up Lloyd's alley. ] We'll go shopping tomorrow, if you want.
[ It will still take some getting used to being unseen on a whim, but Lloyd thinks he likes how it feels. Not nearly as much as being noticed and favored, but he doesn't hate it. Flagg's fingers are warm around his wrist and doesn't try to pull away, just lets him lead the way.
Lloyd's gaze does linger on a few of the window displays as they pass and he gets a little more spring in his step at the suggestion. The best way to cure a shit mood in Vegas had been shopping, so he knows he enjoys it. It'll be nice to have a bit of variety, and the eighties is the perfect time for his taste in patterns and colors. ]
Wouldn't want you to get bored. [ He's absolutely not saying no. ]
[ He raises an eyebrow. ] Lloyd, how many different outfits have you seen me wearing?
[ Which is to say, any shopping trips will be for Lloyd, not Flagg. He lets go of Lloyds wrist and they both fade back into existence, a passerby turning tail and running away from them. If Flagg were alone, he might give chase, but for now it's their lucky day because he lets them run. ]
You wanted more of that, huh? Maybe your mean streak's bigger than I thought. [ He snickers. Lloyd had to have a bit of a mean streak to end up in prison in the first place, framed or no, and to be Flagg's right hand man, but he was also a little...jumpy when Flagg's really vicious side came out. If he could start to take more enjoyment in it, he'd be better off, because Flagg sure as hell wasn't stopping. ]
..Yeah, I guess that's true. [ He grins in return. ] Maybe you were up for a wardrobe change, I dunno. New existence, new you?
[ Lloyd glances around, taking note of the way someone turned tail and ran away. He.. doesn't hate it. Maybe it's because he's been so interwoven with Flagg's darkness for long enough that he doesn't have to think about being on the other side of it. ]
I dunno about that, maybe I'm just getting used to the idea that it's not gonna work the same here.
Maybe in a century or two. I'm still liking this me.
[ He wraps one arm around Lloyd's shoulders, holding him close. That's right, Lloyd, he thinks, you're with the darkness now, you don't have to be afraid of it.
Though speaking of that, it would seem that it was late enough (or early enough, depending on how you looked at it) that the sun was about to start poking its way up over the horizon. In an hour or so it'd be light enough that people'd start feeling safe and stop worrying about the things prowling the streets. Boring. ]
[ He really doesn't know all that much about Flagg, so it feels like he's privy to something private. Lloyd doesn't shy away from his touch like he probably should. His anger is a long-forgotten thing in the wake of a new experience. He'll remember he's supposed to be rightfully furious when he's had sleep. The thought of a motel makes him feel all the more fatigued and he nods in agreement. ]
Sure as shit did. Feels like I could sleep for a week.
[ He contemplates whether or not he should even tell Lloyd what his previous style was. It was a long time ago and things were different back then. But, hey, he thinks he pulled it off, so why not? ]
Cloaks and robes, mostly. In my younger days I used to infiltrate monarchies and bring them down. [ Think a sleazy royal advisor in a cartoon, but a hell of a lot more charming.
He looks at the neon signs lining the street, and heads in the direction of the only motel advertising hourly rates. Not because he intends to pay, but because he wants the scummiest motel he can find. A good place for a monster to lurk. ]
[ Lloyd snickers, trying to picture the whole shebang. Sure, it's impressive that he took down monarchies, but the wardrobe.. He always thought those Renaissance fairs were weird, couldn't imagine dressing like that all the time. ]
Easy to forget sometimes that you've been around for that long.
[ Maybe it's just him, but Flagg exists outside of time and reality, so learning that he's touched so many points in history just seems strange. Not exactly like ill-fitting puzzle pieces, just two different puzzles overlaying one another.
He'd be insulted at the choice in motel if staying in places like that wasn't commonplace. Hell, he's stayed in a few places like this before. Nobody asks questions and there's probably a drug hookup if he looks hard enough. It's been a while and he needs a pick-me-up. ]
Long, and in a whole lot of worlds. I'll take you to mine someday, but it isn't much to look at anymore. [ Mid-world was in even worse shape than the world they left behind, but there are a couple nice things to see.
And he wants to see the look on Lloyd's face when giant, hungry lobsters crawl up on the beach.
He approaches the door of a room that he senses is empty, and waves a hand over the knob. It pens without a fuss. Before entering, he turns to Lloyd and hands him a crumpled up ball of receipts he picked up at the bar. ]
There's a guy out back by the vending machine. Give him these, and you'll get what you're cravin'. [ By 'a guy' he means a coke dealer, and he's enchanted the pile of receipts to look like some high denomination bills to everyone except himself and Lloyd. Which also means Lloyd would have to trust that it would work and that Flagg wasn't sending him out to get punched in the face, but if he wasn't ready to do that, then fine, he can stay sober. ]
I'll go wherever you take me. [ Even though he's still pissed, he doesn't want to be alone, either. Staying in a world where he'd just be existing without a purpose has no appeal to Lloyd when he's been promised to see multiple.
Lloyd's eyebrows raise with skepticism, looking between Flagg and the wad of receipts in his hand. He opens his mouth to argue that there's no way in hell that would work...but he knows cokeheads and he wants to believe that Flagg is doing this for him. There's no reason for him to steer him in the wrong direction just for kicks, right? And beggars can't be choosers.
He'd be the one that would have to deal with Lloyd if it turned sour, after all. He did so badly want to be high again and escape the real feeling of reality for just a little bit. Closing his fist around the receipts, he looks at the room's number and another fleeting glance at Flagg before turning back down the hall to find the dealer in question.
The guy is standing there just as he said, and Lloyd sidles up casually, looking at the vending machine's shitty offerings without really having any intention. He slips the guy the papers and watches with trepidation as the guy's eyes bug out. Lloyd shifts nervously, thinking that the dude's going to clobber him before he's being handed a few baggies of what he's looking for. Heaving a sigh of relief, he gives the guy a two-fingered salute before heading back to the room. He'll do his coke in his own bathroom like any respectable cokehead.
He does another bump after the first one doesn't really do much, waiting for that floating high that doesn't hit him like he expects. Lloyd flops down on the bed with a huff, staring at the ceiling and hoping it's just some sort of delayed reaction. ]
[ He's half tempted to make some snippy comment about how he could take him to some kind of Hell dimension or walk off a cliff or something, but there's a weird feeling in his chest when Lloyd says 'I'll go wherever you take me'.
Is this...affection? He scowls, dismissing the possibility outright. The Dark Man didn't feel affection. Lloyd just had a certain bumbling, overly earnest charm to him, that was all. ]
This place has the best coke you'll ever find, man. [ It's New York in the 80s, where could you find better coke than that? And that only serves to confirm Flagg's suspicions about Lloyd's humanity. Even the best coke in the world wasn't made for creatures of the night like them. ]
C'mere. I'll help you out.
[ He extends a hand to Lloyd, inviting him to lie beside him on the bed. ]
[ Even if Flagg decided to take him somewhere unpleasant, so long as he was nearby, Lloyd can cope with it. He likes to think that Vegas toughened him up, but the reality is that it probably didn't.
He liked to think that the 80's should be the primetime for cocaine, kinda like Scarface, but it's turning out to be a letdown. Trying to force the high to happen isn't working, either.. it's like being right on the fucking edge and not being able to climax. ]
Dunno 'bout that, it's kind of a let down.
[ Still..there's something kinda inviting about Flagg right now, and he takes the offered hand after removing his shoes, making himself comfortable. If he sidles up next to Flagg, it's only because he's extremely warm. ]
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How 'bout a long island.
[ Something strong and sweet.
Lloyd joins him at the bar in one of the newly vacated seats and has a look around. It's a run of the mill dive bar with a sticky floor, split bar stools repaired with duct tape, and a bathroom probably rife with hepatitis, blow jobs in broken stalls, and drug deals. ]
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[ The bartender turns to face them silently, as if in a daze ]. A long island for my friend, and a white russian for me. Keep 'em coming, too.
[ And the bartender obeys, mixing up the two drinks and depositing them in front of Flagg and Lloyd before returning to conversation with other customers like nothing happened. Flagg giggles, taking a sip of his drink. People are so fun to toy with.
Speaking of: ] You want some entertainment?
[ He glances over his shoulder. A few middle aged guys playing pool. Tensions seem to be running a little high, he could easily start something. ]
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His attention turns to Flagg and he looks over toward the pool table, half turned in his seat. ]
How entertainin' could two old fucks playing pool be?
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You just sit back and watch. [ He stands up, making his way to the washroom where he leans against the doorframe and waits outside. He's not a schoolgirl, he has no use for gabbin' in some shit-stained public washroom.
As soon as the man gets out of the washroom, Flagg swings an arm around his shoulder like an old friend, grins wide and vicious, whispers something in his ear, and returns to the bar to take another sip of his drink. ] Any second now.
[ Like clockwork, the guy Flagg spoke to throws a punch at one of his competitors, yelling something about being a cheating bastard trying to swindle him out of his rent. There's a special kind of rage in him, one that Flagg almost certainly instilled, one that passes through his white knuckles and into the other guy's jawbone like a disease until soon all four of 'em are fighting like rabid dogs.
Flagg watches like a kid at the circus. He's even conjured up a little red-and-white striped bag of popcorn to enjoy the show with. ]
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How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws.
It's like witnessing the gladiator pit with less frill and no weapons. The carnage is about the same in spirit, bloodthirsty and begging for some broken teeth. Some poor bastard trying to act like a bouncer tries to break it up but gets an elbow to the face for all his trouble. Lloyd half turns in his seat so he can shake his empty glass at the bartender and pick up another drink. One thing he loves about shit bars is they definitely don't skimp on the liquor. ]
Damn, what'd you even say to 'im? [ He watches, unconcerned as one of the burly pool players hits the ground, out for the count. ]
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[ Yet another talent of Flagg's: he could list off the toppings on a pizza for all he cared and by the time it reached the other person's ears it would've been twisted into something that sent them into a maddened rage. The words were secondary to the intent. Maybe you don't hold a single grudge, but that still doesn't protect you from the Dark Man's siren song of hatred.
A tall, decorative plant sitting in a ceramic pot in the corner of the room starts to wilt. ]
You're gonna want to drink faster if you want a good buzz going. [ Assuming the version of Lloyd that was necromanced could still get drunk. Boy, would he be furious if he couldn't. ] I imagine they'll be kicking us all out soon.
[ But for now, the brawl continues, each splatter of blood making him lick his teeth. The hypnotized bartender keeps bringing drinks at their request, and doesn't even ask for payment. ]
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You think?
[ Watching the chaos spread is really something else. What started with two ended up involving four, then six as others tried to break up the fight, only to be dragged further into it. One thing's for sure, whatever darkness has taken hold of them spreads a hell of a lot faster than Trips. Lloyd takes a few moments to watch Flagg taking in the chaos he'd caused with that almost hungry look. ]
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I think at least one of these gents is gonna pass out in the drunk tank and never wake up. [ Another sip. ] But we'll be curled up all cozy-like in the shadows of some dark alleyway by then.
[ It doesn't even cross his mind that Lloyd might be bothered by the prospect of hunkering down on cold concrete. It was how Flagg rested when he travelled alone, sinking so deep into the shadows that he was near invisible until night fell and he roamed the streets with bright eyes and a brighter grin once more. He'd never had a companion in times like this, and whatever humanity remained in him wasn't enough to make him stop and consider that Lloyd, who was mostly human, would want a proper bed.
Whatever, if Lloyd complained he'd find a motel or something. ]
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We're gonna sleep outside? ...In an alley?
[ It's an extreme step down from Vegas. He knows that it wouldn't be the same, but sleeping outside was for campers and hobos. Neither of which is anything Lloyd considers himself to be. ]
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That's my nature, Lloyd. Outside, in the shadows. [ Would Lloyd accept the real Randall Flagg without the glamour of Vegas? Who knows. He thinks he's more fun like this. No stress of running an empire, he can do as he pleases and go where the wind takes him. Where he might have snapped at Lloyd for questioning him in Vegas, here he just shrugs.
Lloyd - delicate as humans were - probably just wanted some place warm and soft to lay his head. Alright, fine. ]
We can find a motel.
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I don't mean any disrespect. [ He has to at least make that clear, he knows what happens to people who disrespect Flagg. Even if he might deserve some of it after Vegas. Lloyd had given him his word, after all, and he's still bonded by that. ]
Seeing you so long in a certain way makes it hard to see it different.
[ He ducks his head, grateful for the compromise and offers a smile. ]
Thank you.
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I was around long before Vegas and I'll be around long after. [ This is, however, the first time he's found himself wanting a company, and he supposes if he wants that he'll have to tend to Lloyd's silly human needs as much as Lloyd will have to learn to tolerate his little 'quirks'. ]
You got a buzz going yet? I don't imagine we'll get much more drinking in.
[ Flagg's helpfully jammed the phone lines so any attempt to call the cops won't work, but people are already being ushered outside. ]
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[ Flagg has a way of blending in while simultaneously sticking out in a way that makes you know deep down that he's too big for something so fleeting as life is. Being around him is like being caught in it, wading through something thick and inky but also like he sees some sort of value in someone so tarnished. Like finding a diamond in the rough, but the diamond is just a dirty, listless pebble people keep kicking about.
There was a reason that Lloyd came to the conclusion that if Flagg had really been outside his cell that he had to be the devil. Yet, he'd thrown his lot in with him anyway. As if there'd ever been any other choice to make. He doesn't regret it, he didn't want to die and Flagg had appeared in his darkest hour. Who gave a shit what form their savior showed up in, right?
Pursing his lips, he looks down at his empty glass and sighs. ]
Not how I usually like it, but it's gettin' there.
[ Lloyd slides out of his seat and straightens out the wrinkles in his shirt. ]
What now?
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[ He takes Lloyd by the wrist and although nothing seems different from their point of view, to the patrons and staff in the bar it's like they fade into the shadows, forgotten. Later they'll go home and wonder if they'd imagined the strange tall man with the sharp smile and his travelling companion, if they thought about it at all.
He drags Lloyd out of the bar and back into the night streets, still under the cover of shadow. No one actually looks at them, but a few people stop and tense up as they pass by. ]
That was fun, wasn't it?
[ It's late enough that the stores, aside from bars and clubs, are all closed, but they pass by some clothing shops and what's in the window seems right up Lloyd's alley. ] We'll go shopping tomorrow, if you want.
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[ It will still take some getting used to being unseen on a whim, but Lloyd thinks he likes how it feels. Not nearly as much as being noticed and favored, but he doesn't hate it. Flagg's fingers are warm around his wrist and doesn't try to pull away, just lets him lead the way.
Lloyd's gaze does linger on a few of the window displays as they pass and he gets a little more spring in his step at the suggestion. The best way to cure a shit mood in Vegas had been shopping, so he knows he enjoys it. It'll be nice to have a bit of variety, and the eighties is the perfect time for his taste in patterns and colors. ]
Wouldn't want you to get bored. [ He's absolutely not saying no. ]
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[ Which is to say, any shopping trips will be for Lloyd, not Flagg. He lets go of Lloyds wrist and they both fade back into existence, a passerby turning tail and running away from them. If Flagg were alone, he might give chase, but for now it's their lucky day because he lets them run. ]
You wanted more of that, huh? Maybe your mean streak's bigger than I thought. [ He snickers. Lloyd had to have a bit of a mean streak to end up in prison in the first place, framed or no, and to be Flagg's right hand man, but he was also a little...jumpy when Flagg's really vicious side came out. If he could start to take more enjoyment in it, he'd be better off, because Flagg sure as hell wasn't stopping. ]
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[ Lloyd glances around, taking note of the way someone turned tail and ran away. He.. doesn't hate it. Maybe it's because he's been so interwoven with Flagg's darkness for long enough that he doesn't have to think about being on the other side of it. ]
I dunno about that, maybe I'm just getting used to the idea that it's not gonna work the same here.
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[ He wraps one arm around Lloyd's shoulders, holding him close. That's right, Lloyd, he thinks, you're with the darkness now, you don't have to be afraid of it.
Though speaking of that, it would seem that it was late enough (or early enough, depending on how you looked at it) that the sun was about to start poking its way up over the horizon. In an hour or so it'd be light enough that people'd start feeling safe and stop worrying about the things prowling the streets. Boring. ]
Let's find a motel. You've had quite a night.
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[ He really doesn't know all that much about Flagg, so it feels like he's privy to something private. Lloyd doesn't shy away from his touch like he probably should. His anger is a long-forgotten thing in the wake of a new experience. He'll remember he's supposed to be rightfully furious when he's had sleep. The thought of a motel makes him feel all the more fatigued and he nods in agreement. ]
Sure as shit did. Feels like I could sleep for a week.
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Cloaks and robes, mostly. In my younger days I used to infiltrate monarchies and bring them down. [ Think a sleazy royal advisor in a cartoon, but a hell of a lot more charming.
He looks at the neon signs lining the street, and heads in the direction of the only motel advertising hourly rates. Not because he intends to pay, but because he wants the scummiest motel he can find. A good place for a monster to lurk. ]
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Easy to forget sometimes that you've been around for that long.
[ Maybe it's just him, but Flagg exists outside of time and reality, so learning that he's touched so many points in history just seems strange. Not exactly like ill-fitting puzzle pieces, just two different puzzles overlaying one another.
He'd be insulted at the choice in motel if staying in places like that wasn't commonplace. Hell, he's stayed in a few places like this before. Nobody asks questions and there's probably a drug hookup if he looks hard enough. It's been a while and he needs a pick-me-up. ]
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And he wants to see the look on Lloyd's face when giant, hungry lobsters crawl up on the beach.
He approaches the door of a room that he senses is empty, and waves a hand over the knob. It pens without a fuss. Before entering, he turns to Lloyd and hands him a crumpled up ball of receipts he picked up at the bar. ]
There's a guy out back by the vending machine. Give him these, and you'll get what you're cravin'. [ By 'a guy' he means a coke dealer, and he's enchanted the pile of receipts to look like some high denomination bills to everyone except himself and Lloyd. Which also means Lloyd would have to trust that it would work and that Flagg wasn't sending him out to get punched in the face, but if he wasn't ready to do that, then fine, he can stay sober. ]
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Lloyd's eyebrows raise with skepticism, looking between Flagg and the wad of receipts in his hand. He opens his mouth to argue that there's no way in hell that would work...but he knows cokeheads and he wants to believe that Flagg is doing this for him. There's no reason for him to steer him in the wrong direction just for kicks, right? And beggars can't be choosers.
He'd be the one that would have to deal with Lloyd if it turned sour, after all. He did so badly want to be high again and escape the real feeling of reality for just a little bit. Closing his fist around the receipts, he looks at the room's number and another fleeting glance at Flagg before turning back down the hall to find the dealer in question.
The guy is standing there just as he said, and Lloyd sidles up casually, looking at the vending machine's shitty offerings without really having any intention. He slips the guy the papers and watches with trepidation as the guy's eyes bug out. Lloyd shifts nervously, thinking that the dude's going to clobber him before he's being handed a few baggies of what he's looking for. Heaving a sigh of relief, he gives the guy a two-fingered salute before heading back to the room. He'll do his coke in his own bathroom like any respectable cokehead.
He does another bump after the first one doesn't really do much, waiting for that floating high that doesn't hit him like he expects. Lloyd flops down on the bed with a huff, staring at the ceiling and hoping it's just some sort of delayed reaction. ]
Ugh. This place has really shitty coke.
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Is this...affection? He scowls, dismissing the possibility outright. The Dark Man didn't feel affection. Lloyd just had a certain bumbling, overly earnest charm to him, that was all. ]
This place has the best coke you'll ever find, man. [ It's New York in the 80s, where could you find better coke than that? And that only serves to confirm Flagg's suspicions about Lloyd's humanity. Even the best coke in the world wasn't made for creatures of the night like them. ]
C'mere. I'll help you out.
[ He extends a hand to Lloyd, inviting him to lie beside him on the bed. ]
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He liked to think that the 80's should be the primetime for cocaine, kinda like Scarface, but it's turning out to be a letdown. Trying to force the high to happen isn't working, either.. it's like being right on the fucking edge and not being able to climax. ]
Dunno 'bout that, it's kind of a let down.
[ Still..there's something kinda inviting about Flagg right now, and he takes the offered hand after removing his shoes, making himself comfortable. If he sidles up next to Flagg, it's only because he's extremely warm. ]
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