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Log Title: Chat with Doug

Log setting: Walker’s house, downstairs.

Log Cast:
Glass a.k.a. Doug
Trace

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Trace pads carefully down the stairs, barefoot, and rubs at his eyes a little. He moves across the room, a slow and loose-limbed stride, and gives you a tiny smile. "Oh, hey..." He hesitates a moment, then takes up a spot on the couch with a body's width between he and you. "What's up?"

Glass hands you the joint and says languidly on a stream of fragrant smoke, "I just woke up. So I'm up. How are you?" He smiles, "What time is it?" Leaning back on the couch, he stretches, arms above his head.

Trace blinks at you with bright, pinned hazel eyes and glances about, but doesn't immediately see any clocks pop out at him. "I... I dunno," he admits softly as he takes the joint and peers at it a moment before grinning and taking a little hit. He passes it back, waits a moment, then lets it out as he speaks raspily, "I kinda just woke up too. I think it's... evening?" He looks over at the window. He sinks back into the cusions of the couch and murmurs thoughtfully, "Mmm... Eveningish shadows, anyway."

Glass smiles, and drapes one hand over his head to drag on the joint, like an ape. He hands it back and says, "Smoke it for a while. I had most of it already. I like awake and bake." He turns his head a bit, looking at Trace's eyes and expression, "How you feeling?"

"Good..." Trace smiles, oblivious to scrutiny, or perhaps not caring much. He pulls again on the joint and considers, letting his eyes roam the apartment, and then blows the smoke out slowly at varying forcefulness, little cloud puffs. "So z'everybody else out?" His eyes find yours again. "Oh wait, right, you just woke up..."

Glass shrugs, murmurs, "Beats me. I haven't seen anybody." He smiles, "I was gettin' lonely."

Trace slowly breaks into a big, fond grin, "Aww, don't gotta be lonely... See, I'll keep ya company." He lowers his eyes to study the smoldering end of the joint for a moment, then holds it out towards you again. "Here, yer turn again.. Maybe you had most 'fore I got down, but joints are meant t'be passed 'round, y'know? Otherwise ya feel selfish."

Glass laughs gently and takes the joint, "I don't. I like to smoke a joint by myself. Or a pipe, that's even better. Like when you're cleaning or something? Have a pipe and take a hit and then go do something, and have another hit a while later, like that." He smiles, "Space it out." He drags on the joint and hands it back, holding his breath.

Trace nods a little. "I guess I just never did it much 'cept round other people... Never bought my own, y'know?" He chuckles and takes his pull, quiet a moment as he holds the hit in and finally passes it back, murmuring, "Well.. huh, now that I went and said that, I feel like I leech off ya too much. Tell ya what... Sometime I'll give ya a present 'a somethin', some good acid or weed or whatever. But 'course ya gotta forgive me if none'a my hookups're is good as yours... Thought that counts, right?" He smiles blithely, serenely.

Glass smiles, "Never buying your own is a good way to do it." He grins, a warm and friendly expression, "Sure, if you want. But you don't have to. I'm on Easy Street, right? I should be so fucking happy." He hits the joint and smiles beautifically, holding his breath as he offers it back. A few seconds later he repeats, "I should be so fucking happy. I got it better than I could ever dream, right?"

Trace purses his lips and considers this, reaching out to pinch the joint and bring it up close to his lips. He doesn't take his hit just yet, however, still turning over what to say. Finally the boy murmurs, "Ya kin' always dream better... An', I dunno, if I had a girl and someplace safe, and.. well-loved to sleep every night after so long of not knowing... I mean, after the storms ya seen in yer life Glass, I guess ya..." Dammit, he's getting just slightly frustrated because he's got words right on the tip of his tongue, but he's fumbling with them, forgetting them. "I mean, the times you seen and survived, it's like... this is a spot of peace, y'know? But it's gotta feel sometimes like... like another, um, y'know.. a calm before just another storm, so... so I'm sure ya can't let go completely and be all out super happy, y'know? So y--ipe!" He nearly drops the little stub of the joint, because after the thoughtful ramble he went and let it burn his fingers. He pinches it further back now, barely enough room to take his tiny hit, lips to his fingernails. Then he holds his pinched fingers back to you and wonders, "What was I sayin'...? Oh yeah... Yeah, s'like, maybe if this... this calm lasts, and, y'know, then you'll start to realize it's not just a pause between... um, bad times, then... then you can be so fucking happy, y'know?" A bright smile. Perhaps it wasn't exactly comprehensive, but he got it all out at least. After another moment he lifts a hand to suck on the tender tips of his burned thumb and forefinger.

Glass smiles, "Yeah, maybe. Maybe that's it." He shrugs a little and squirms back against the couch, as if scratching an itch, "I'm afraid that things'll be all fucked up again. And I don't deserve what I got." He smiles still, and giggles a little, as if his undeservingness is funny.

A little line furrows in the space between Trace's brows, just faintly, before smoothing out again. "But... but 'course ya do. I mean... I mean, you been through some shit, y'know? Why *wouldn't* ya be granted some sweet times..." He shakes his head just slightly, confused by Glass' logic.

Glass grins, "Because I've been really really bad." He laughs. "I didn't mean it." He laughs some more. It's a genuine laughing jag, merry and kind of strained, not quite honest laughter.

Trace giggles a little and takes the too-tiny-to-smoke roach, dropping it down into the ashtrey to burn out. "Well.. well, then I been bad too," Trace giggles. "Don't deserve shit. Like one time... This one time on a dare my friend lured a girl back into the boiler room and I was waiting in there, and then he grabbed her and got her to the ground and she had this skirt on, so.. so it was my job to get her panties off. And after that we took off with 'em and Bobby Tilson strung 'em up on the flagpole. They stayed up there like a day and a half and she never told nobody coz she woulda died from the teasing if people knew the panties up there were hers..." He giggles. "It was like fourth grade or something, but like, I figure I'm goin' ta hell fer that anyway..."

Glass looks at you and stops laughing, "Naw, that's not really bad. I've like, destroyed lives, right?" He still grins.

Trace bites his lip, his giggle dying as well, when you say that. "Oh. Well, like..." His brow furrows a little, and he looks down at his hands before peeking up. "Like.. killed somebody? What do you mean?" Then he adds in a quick rush, "I mean, if I'm poking around in shit ya don't wanna talk 'bout, it's cool.. Just tell me to shut up, I will."

Glass blinks, a flicker passing through his expression, not good. It's gone and he smiles, "Well, like peddling dope, and getting people hooked, and telling that guy who says I'm the Third Beast to smoke a quarter of speed all at once. And other stuff. I don't wanna talk about all the stuff." He shrugs. "So what I really should do is be happy before I go to Hell."

The blue haired boy's eyes are very thoughtful, struggling a little over his feelings on this. "I dunno... I mean, part of me says, like about the selling, those kids woulda just found someone else if you hadn't. Y'know? Like.. like if I'd met you way back when I was all new to the streets and junk and everything.. If you'd refused ta sell t'me, I woulda just went elsewhere. I'd, y'know, made my mind up. But then... I mean, I can also see how you feel bad, I guess. Because sometimes maybe not everyone's as sure as I was... Like... Like, did you know when I first met Batiste he'd been two months clean an' plannin' ta stay that way? And... and I got him back on." He keeps his head lowered now, braids sweeping down to hide much of his face. "I-I wanted someone to, to be with, like I thought we couldn't really be friends if he were gone straight... y'know? But, well. I mean.. I mean, I guess I shouldn't worry all that much 'bout it, coz we're droppin' it all soon anyway, and sides, he don't really have a problem. Never seen him with needs fer it... like, ever." He shrugs a little, looking up again. "I guess... I guess it's a tricky thing, y'know?"

Glass nods, "Yeah. Well, I feel bad about it anyway. I mean, you're right. They'd have bought it from someone else. At least I didn't rip them off too bad, or cut it with soap." He stretches and sighs, "And I know what you mean about getting people on it so you have somebody to shoot up with. It's a lot better that way. When I first saw you I was like, why wasn't he around a year and a half ago. That woulda been cool." He reaches to tap your chin gently and briefly, silently asking you to look up. "I didn't really have anybody to shoot up with when I was using all the time. I think that kinda made me worse."

Trace smiles shyly when you tip his chin back up, and looks at you. "Yeah.. yeah, me too, for a long time. It was... real lonely. I woulda fixed with you anytime. Actually.." He blushes a little. "'Member that first day we met, in the Raven? S'like... I asked you if you knew of anyone I might look into coz my hookup was leaving town?" He grins sheepishly, but keeps his gaze matched to yours. "Total lie. I was just... y'know, kinda hoping I'd found someone. Scopin' ya out, y'know? I barely knew Batiste back then..." He shakes his head shyly. "But you were clean then. And that Deanna girl flipped out on me. I.. I was disappointed," he admits and then tears his eyes away to look down and smile embarrassedly.

Glass laughs, "Oh. I thought you were just lookin' for another connection." He nods, "Yeah. De's enough to scare anybody. Me too. But she was real good to me for a long time. She'd never screw me over or try to hurt me. Unless it happened just because she can be so dumb." He smiles a little, "Not that's she's dumb. She just. Doesn't know stuff that normal people know."

Trace giggles a little at that. "Yeah. Yeah, we don't... hmm. Well, we never really got along well with her after, y'know, that thing at the Ren Faire."

Glass nods, "Well, you never would. She woulda said you were a bad influence. She'd never forgive you for being who you are. She's nuts."

"There's lotsa people like that," Trace sighs. "It's like... it's like, I'd never hurt anyone on purpose, and, and I don't steal barely ever, or lie much... But who's gonna believe that. Coz.. coz that's what all street kids are like, y'know? That's what they think." A little pause, as he considers something else, and them murmurs, "But y'know... maybe with De, it's more. Like... like it's kinda obvious she cares for ya, right? Shoulda heard her in Jackson Square this one day, all concerned. But, y'know... When ya think someone ya care about's in trouble, yer gonna lash, even if ya didn't take much time t'look at what yer lashin' first. That's jest... bein' human. I kin forgive her that."

Glass nods and smiles at you, "Thank you. For forgiving her. She deserves it. If anybody in the world deserves happiness, it's her. For a long time, it was like. Perfect love. There was nothing dirty, nothing sharp or grasping or any of that bad-love shit." He shrugs a little, "But she was like a child then and now she's like a woman. Whatever it was is gone. But I needed it then. It kept me alive."

Trace lets out a small sigh and nods. "Must be wonderful, huh. T'find a girl who... who pulls all the breath outta yer lungs when she looks at you.." He grins shyly, and wraps his arms around himself in a little hug. "And the magic part, like you do it for her too? That's the part I never found yet. I want -- I want a girl who can crawl in through my chest and just.. just smooth away everything that's hard, an'.. an' warm up what's cold. An' promise t'do it forever..."

Glass smiles, murmurs, "Well, it wasn't like that with De. I never made love with De. She was like. Well, she was like she was five years old, when we met. Like she was five years old and had a crush on me, I guess. She thought I was so wonderful. She still does. Except she got all jealous of Shay." He smiles dreamily, "She takes my breath. Sometimes."

Trace chuckles. "I guess... I guess I always been that five-year-old, every girl I've tried to win." He snuggles back down into the cushions of the couch, eyes closing a moment as he nuzzles there, but after a moment he peeks back up at you. "Shay... She is pretty. I only seen her like twice, though. Tell me more 'bout her...?" He grins. "All I know is she's just that girl who steals you away from us late at night sometimes, and she kinda thinks that whole bad influence thing 'bout us too. But maybe ya kin enlighten me 'bout some've the better traits, y'know..?"

Glass murmurs, "She's really kind to me. And she's very beautiful. She laughs. She says she'll protect me. I think she really can, sometimes." He smiles at the ceiling, "She's from Panama. And she believes in God."

Trace nods faintly. "Yeah... yeah, yer lucky to have her. I do envy you fer that. Not.. fer *Shay*, pacifically," he mispronounces, "just... someone." He murmurs sincerely, "It's wonderful she protects you. I know what that's like, how great that is, when someone cares enough t'want to..." A sudden grin. "But just promise ya won't let her protect ya from *us*!"

Glass grins, "What I should do is ask Batiste to come and cook and have a dinner party there, for her. With you guys. She'd like you. Once she got to know you, right? So you'd be Batiste and Trace and like that, instead of just these guys I know who use junk and are bad for me to see."

Trace breaks into another slow smile. "Yeah... yeah, I'd like that. I don't wanna scare nobody... and she always sounds great when ya speak'a her." He arches his back in a small, languid stretch and then settles back again. "I'll go in clean as a whistle fer ya, so maybe she'll worry less, 'n Batiste could make up somethin' good, and we'll give Jason a long talk b'fore hand so he don't cause no mischief..." Oops, wait a minute. Jason and Doug don't get along that well. But then... telling Jason not to come is easier said than done. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he realizes this and peeks up at you. "Well, I mean... Maybe there'll be a time Jason's got, um, stuff to do, if ya didn't want Shay meetin' him too..." A small shift in his expression. "Then again...Hey, I bet Jason'd lighten up a ton if he saw you and Shay together, and saw, y'know, how much ya love each other." His slender shoulders lift, and he murmurs conspiratorily, "Jason's whole problem, mostly, is he's worried about you and Batiste. Like he's afraid you'll become boyfriends or something."

Glass laughs gently, "Why? Is that not allowed?" He looks around for a cigarette, finds half of one in the ashtray. He lights it up and puffs.

"I... I don't think it is," Trace admits softly, eyes averted as his fingers worry at a raveling tear in the hem of his shirt. He suddenly remembers to add, "I mean, to Jason."

Glass nods slowly, "Why? I mean, he and Batiste aren't. So why? Is he afraid he'd forget about you two?" He smiles gently, "Batiste would never do that."

Trace smiles, a faintly sardonic expression. "He never would. I know it. Jason prolly knows it deep down too, but it's not about that. It's about... what Jason thinks is his. Because, I mean... well, you're right; they're not boyfriends. Sometimes I think they might be, if not for me. It's hard to explain..." He shakes his head, knowing he's not doing a good job of conveying what he means. He tries a new angle, since that first one he tried to tackle is very complicated, and more than a bit private. "I guess it's also... about territories, y'know? About.. what Jason thinks is his. And it's messed up, but I just get the feeling that, since he and Batiste... are sometimes... close like that," he words carefully, obviously insecure and somewhat uncomfortable with the idea himself, "even if not often, it's like -- he's not gonna share. Y'know?" A fretful sigh. "I'm not telling you any of this, by the way. Didn't hear a word from me."

Glass nods thoughtfully, and blows a smoke ring. He runs a hand through his hair and murmurs, "Oh. What do you think he'd do, anyway?" Dark eyes watch your face with stoney interest and he smiles a bit blearily, a touch of concern evident.

Trace purses his lips a moment, considering. After a moment, he admits quietly, "I... I dunno. Really, yer the first what's tried." A blush. "Well, not *tried*, like I don't think.. I mean. I mean, you love Shay, so.." He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and set his conversation back on the right track. "I guess... I mean, for one thing, don't underestimate Jason. He, I mean, he's kinda small, right? Compared to you, anyhow. And usually he's easy going, laughing and smirking about something. But... But I seen him, times, when he... wasn't none of those. When he was, um, pretty pissed at me, or desperate, or... something. And it's not -- good." A dismissing, little nervous chuckle. "But then, I'm sure I'm easier to intimidate than you, Doug. I couldn't lick nobody.."

Glass nods slowly, murmurs, "I never got in a fight that I didn't get beaten up. " He studies the end of his cigarette, "What did he do? I'm always afraid Jason's mad at me. I don't want him to be. But we knew each other from before. Like a long time ago."

Trace blinks and looks up. "Really..?" He clearly hadn't expected that. "Like how? I mean, from where?"

Glass says, "When I first came to town I knew this girl." He looks over at the doorway, where his shiney-steel-cap-on-the-outside-of-the-toe boots sit. "She was real nice, and Jason knew her too. They were real close. She gave me the money to buy those boots. Sort of. She left it to me."

Trace ohs, and nods faintly. "She... left it to you? So like, she...?" He lets it trail off, deciding practically too late that it'd be a rude question to ask. "I never even heard about this girl before. Jason never talks much 'bout stuff like that, 'specially from his past..."

Glass nods, murmurs, "Yeah. She died. She was real cool. After that I didn't see Jason for a really long time. I only saw him at her place, you know? Or I'd see him but he'd be busy and not say hello." He looks at you thoughtfully, "He's different now."

"Different how?" Trace presses softly, eyes lit with somber curiousity.

Glass murmurs, "Well. Happier I guess. He didn't get all mean like he does sometimes."

Trace smiles faintly. "He... he isn't mean. Not at all. You just, you scare him, y'know? Sometimes seeing the two of ya all affectionate, ya... hurt him somehow. No, that's not the right word. I dunno." He runs a hand through his braids. "What ya see in him... it's not mean. It's just -- selfish, maybe? Protective. Somewhere between those. I figure, the longer we're all together and okay, the more Jason'll relax and realize we aren't goin' nowhere. Or maybe just seein' Shay and you. I think he'll be better to ya then."

Glass looks down. He nods, "Yeah. Maybe. I didn't know him all that well. But he was kind to me, sort of. He didn't like what I was." The dark eyes find your face again, "Is he like that with you? I wasn't allowed to shoot in her apartment, because he didn't like it."

Trace chews on his lip a moment, and then reluctantly answers, "I'm giving it up for him." His fingers go back to the tiny tear at the bottom of his t-shirt. "Batiste... he wants to protect me always, but he was my blood brother. We shared. He never woulda asked me to stop, even though he's relieved to know it now. But Jason..." He licks his lips, grasping for words. "It was so strange. I mean, he knew from day one that I did. He knew.. And for *such* a long time, he never said nuthin. Didn't seem ta care either way. But somethin' changed somewhere. Maybe he cared more, and couldn't take it? I dunno. But suddenly he was all in my face. We were talkin' once, somethin' bout how.." His brow furrows. What was it exactly? "Well, somethin' like how my creativity, my.. my dreams and visions, for when I draw, they aren't as bright or easy to come by. And he just gave me this look, kinda sad, kinda still... I'll never forget it. And he said, 'It's still inside you. But all you dream is needles now..' And sometimes he'll go off on me, how I'll be old and grown and never draw anymore, just murmur, "Yeah, I usedta draw when I was little... kid stuff, out grew it I guess," and then tie my knot, and he..." Trace winds down his ramble to a grinding halt and just is quiet a moment. Finally he insists once more, "I just... things have changed. And I gotta give it up for him. Coz the future he paints scares me so bad, and I can't bare to have him look at me that way.."

Glass nods, murmurs, "Yeah. That's what Shay did to me. But she didn't have to tell me like that. She. Well. I had to quit. She made me quit. She said she wouldn't watch me die and if I didn't quit I'd have to leave. So I chose her." He looks over towards the stairs, absently, "Yeah. It's scary to think about becoming one of those old guys, those guys who've been junkies for fifteen years, forever, something like that. In and out of jail, sick and kick and start again, all your days washed away in a warm grey haze and then you're dead. Or like Krantz. With his face frozen to the floor." He looks back at you, "Want another joint?"

Trace shakes his head a little. "Naw... n'thanks, but you can if ya like. But I'm already kinda stoned..." A little smile, and he nuzzles at the cushions and sighs, "I might just drift off again here. I'm so in love with Walker's couch..." He peeks an eye open and says shyly, "I... been ramblin' on way too much. But it -- was nice. I'm glad ya weren't out with the others and we had a chance to, to talk." He blushes faintly and closes his eyes again.

Glass nods, "You're a good guy." He smiles, "Hey, you want some of the valium I had when I was kicking?"

Trace opens his eyes to peer up at you. "Ah... yeah? Yeah, I actually read that was some of the best. I, well, we went and talked to this one doctor, and this girl there who was his assistant, and that was one of the things she said could help. Also, um. Roh... Rohypnol?" He stumbles a bit on the pronounciation. "And, um, Serepax, and Doloxene and some others... Gotta get my hands on some've that stuff somehow, before we do this. I don't think that doctor guy can help me out without something official, like checking me into a liscenced detox place or something... Dunno." He shrugs a little and decides, "Well, anything you can get me, I'll even pay you. I just.. I can't do it cold turkey. I won't. That's, like, torture."

Glass nods, "I was chained to the bed. I had valium and pot. I have some of the valium left over, I got shitloads." He smiles, "Naw, I'll just give it to you. I don't need it and if I ever do I can get more. I didn't pay for it anyway."

Trace sighs softly and looks up at you. "When -- when the time comes that I gotta go through with it, would you help me? I mean, I mean however..." He smiles somewhat nervously. "However you wanna. Even if just to give me tips on, like, how not to go insane..." He presses his cheek to the cushion and closes his eyes again. "But no tips now. All that, I'll deal with... later."

Glass smiles, "Yeah, sure, absolutely. I'll bring things that helped me and show Batiste and everybody how to take care of you." He grins. "It'll be the easiest kick ever, with so many people who love you around to help." The smile mellows, reassuring, "Not that that'll really make it easy. But better. It'll be worth it."

"Lucy told us some," Trace murmurs drowsily, not opening his eyes. "About.. about what food I'll have an easier time keeping down, and, and about all the medicines, and massages for when my muscles and stuff get stiff and hurting..." A tiny, anxious giggle. "Not that I got muscles or anything." He licks his lips, cottonmouth having set in, and murmurs, "But yer right. Yer so right. It's gotta be worth it. I never really had much of a, y'know, a reason before. So I think that's why I couldn't stop. But now... now I got so *much*, more'n I dreamed, and I can't... I can't stand to fuck it up. Not with this. It will be... worth it..." The last few sentances here get gradually more and more vague and drifting. He smiles very faintly and hushes, "Thanks Glass."

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