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. ]
[ He pulls Lloyd in nice and close, running his fingers through his hair. Each stroke creates something like a high; not exactly the sort of high you’d get from cocaine but a pleasurable, calming sensation.
A nice little mental lullaby to put him to keep. ]
We’re gonna go far, Lloyd. Real far.
[ He closes his eyes, fingers still entangled in Lloyd’s hair. ]
[ It's easier than he wants it to be relaxing into Flagg the way he is. His chest is warm and solid at Lloyd's back, and the fingers running through his hair feel so damn good.
He hums in contentment, letting his eyes close. Lloyd focuses on the fingers, the way his scalp tingles when Flagg's hand passes over his head, and that calming, almost floating feeling. He doesn't really recall falling asleep, but when he wakes up, the sun is filtering through the broken blinds over the window and into his face. He still feels tired and warm to the point of being uncomfortable.
Squirming, he wiggles enough to free his arms, scrubbing his hands over his face to try and wake up just a bit more. He doesn't know what time it is, but does it really matter when the world is pretty much at their feet? ]
Ughh..How long was I out? [ It feels a lot longer than it probably was. ]
[ Time hasn't mattered to Flagg in a long, long while. He can basically keep track of it with sunrise and sunset but he's not counting. He measures time in significant events; however long it is from one great human tragedy to the next.
He looks at the light coming through the blinds. One might mistake it for sunrise, but they were facing west. It was almost sunset. ]
All day. Another hour and it'll be night. [ And it was the time of year here where the sun was out for over half the day, so Lloyd's slept fourteen hours at least. Resurrection takes a lot out of you. ]
Sleep well? [ Perhaps, Flagg thought, well enough that he'd be in a good mood despite...well, everything. His actions may have brought about Lloyd's death but they also brought him back to life, so what was the big deal? ]
[ Lloyd grunts in response, needing a moment to actually figure it out. He's in the same position he was in when he fell asleep, so that tells him he at least slept hard. He feels fine? His limbs are pleasantly heavy-feeling, though that's disappearing the longer he's awake. Hunger gnaws at his belly in a way that reminds him of that first day with no food. Running on empty, but okay. Nothing will ever compare to that, but brains are funny like that. ]
Guess I did if I slept all day. [ Rejuvenated, at least partially. ] Hungry as fuck, though.
[ In need of a shower and some clean clothes, for sure. He feels gross. Dirty in a way that he isn't sure whether it comes from his resurrection or sleeping in street clothes like he was sleeping off a hangover. And he had, hadn't he? Binging on shitty coke that didn't take him anywhere after a few drinks that failed to give him a buzz, and that too-warm feeling after properly waking. ]
[ He stretches out, his long legs almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Vegas was an oddity; a time when Flagg had a focused goal and a job to do. (Well, he always had a job, but his boss was millions of years old and considered him an outstanding employee if he worked one day every century or so.)
Right now, he was chill. Just going with the flow, baby. He doesn't stop to think about why that might not reassure Lloyd. He doesn't stop to think about much of anything, really.
In times like these he truly embodies chaos in its purest form. There's almost a glow about him, like a girl on her wedding day. ]
No plan, my man. Whatever we wanna do is fair game.
[ Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Lloyd pushes himself into a seated position but doesn't get much further than that. His expression is confused when he meets Flagg's eye, and the implication doesn't set in for a few long moments. They can do whatever they want? Like.. whatever? Ideas come and go at lightning speed, and the limitless possibilities make it hard for him to decide where to even start. ]
I want a shower and some grub the most. [ He pauses, shifting to turn a little more toward Flagg. ]
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no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ He pulls Lloyd in nice and close, running his fingers through his hair. Each stroke creates something like a high; not exactly the sort of high you’d get from cocaine but a pleasurable, calming sensation.
A nice little mental lullaby to put him to keep. ]
We’re gonna go far, Lloyd. Real far.
[ He closes his eyes, fingers still entangled in Lloyd’s hair. ]
no subject
He hums in contentment, letting his eyes close. Lloyd focuses on the fingers, the way his scalp tingles when Flagg's hand passes over his head, and that calming, almost floating feeling. He doesn't really recall falling asleep, but when he wakes up, the sun is filtering through the broken blinds over the window and into his face. He still feels tired and warm to the point of being uncomfortable.
Squirming, he wiggles enough to free his arms, scrubbing his hands over his face to try and wake up just a bit more. He doesn't know what time it is, but does it really matter when the world is pretty much at their feet? ]
Ughh..How long was I out? [ It feels a lot longer than it probably was. ]
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He looks at the light coming through the blinds. One might mistake it for sunrise, but they were facing west. It was almost sunset. ]
All day. Another hour and it'll be night. [ And it was the time of year here where the sun was out for over half the day, so Lloyd's slept fourteen hours at least. Resurrection takes a lot out of you. ]
Sleep well? [ Perhaps, Flagg thought, well enough that he'd be in a good mood despite...well, everything. His actions may have brought about Lloyd's death but they also brought him back to life, so what was the big deal? ]
no subject
Guess I did if I slept all day. [ Rejuvenated, at least partially. ] Hungry as fuck, though.
[ In need of a shower and some clean clothes, for sure. He feels gross. Dirty in a way that he isn't sure whether it comes from his resurrection or sleeping in street clothes like he was sleeping off a hangover. And he had, hadn't he? Binging on shitty coke that didn't take him anywhere after a few drinks that failed to give him a buzz, and that too-warm feeling after properly waking. ]
So, what's the plan. There's a plan, right?
no subject
[ He stretches out, his long legs almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Vegas was an oddity; a time when Flagg had a focused goal and a job to do. (Well, he always had a job, but his boss was millions of years old and considered him an outstanding employee if he worked one day every century or so.)
Right now, he was chill. Just going with the flow, baby. He doesn't stop to think about why that might not reassure Lloyd. He doesn't stop to think about much of anything, really.
In times like these he truly embodies chaos in its purest form. There's almost a glow about him, like a girl on her wedding day. ]
No plan, my man. Whatever we wanna do is fair game.
no subject
I want a shower and some grub the most. [ He pauses, shifting to turn a little more toward Flagg. ]
There somethin' you wanna do?