You can't fake those drunken tears

[siryn]

What time was it? 2 am? 3 am? It didn't matter. It was a chilly night, yet still Terry felt her cheeks burning up from the amount of whiskey she drunk instead of the cool wind that should have caressed them. Doused senses was one of the main effects Siryn got into this mess - it made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, totally concentrated on yourself and you didn't give a damn about loneliness.

Sadly, it was already wearing off.

Terry stumbled across the courtyard, her legs wrapping one around another like two snakes in a bottle. Another flaw of the aftermath effect - you can't coordinate your movements. You understand everything, you realize you're drippin' drunk, but you just can't get yourself into a grip. It's like being trapped in a bad dream, pleading God to wake you up.

She dropped down on the edge of the fountain, struggling to keep her balance in order not to fall into the water. Now that would be a feckin' comedy. Terry grinned at herself. Her two ocean blue eyes were somewhat lost, you could tell she was drunk throwing one glance, let alone seeing that crazy little smile her lips wrapped into.

OOoooh crap. Ah, and you couldn't forget the third effect - nausea. Terry leaned forward and scooped some of the fountain water into her hands, washing up her face and weary eyes to reach in a little bit of contact with her senses. She then brokenly took off her shoes and dipped them into the cool water, feeling a tingle run down her spine as the icey liquid touched her toes. This is goin' t'be a feckin' long night. Unless ah fall asleep right 'ere.

[nightcrawler]

Kurt, by nature one could suppose, was more of a night 'creature', what with the way his body somehow blended with the shadow and darkness and how he could amazingly see perfectly in the dark. He was crouched on a stone bench in the courtyard, his presence largely unknown and unseen and his bright yellow eyes were wide, as they scanned the fragile thin paper of the small worn leather clad bible of his. His tail flicked about as if under its own influence and in one hand, he held a small crucifix, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger. His mind drifted over what he read and with the problem he had uncovered during his leave of absence from the Institute, not seeing or hearing Terry as she stumbled upon the scene, until she plopped down and commenced to splash about in the fountain.

His yellow eyes drifting upward and looking out over the top of his bible, Kurt watched Terry for a moment, seeing how she moved about sluggishly but still not jumping to conclusions, because for all he knew, the girl could simply be tired. Closing his bible carefully and kissing the cover briefly, Kurt let his feet slip from the stone bench and to the ground, tucking away his bible into the inside pocket of the long leather trench coat he wore, the small metallic crucifix slipping from his fingers and falling safely to his side, hanging sort of crookedly from his hip. "Entschuldigen Sie little one," he said with that soft Kurt Wagner tone, the one that was quiet but just loud enough to be heard, "But it is rather late for a student to be out and about," he said as he gave a quick look around to see if anyone else was out and about, "Do you not have class in the morning?," he asked her as he stopped just behind her, the smell of alcohol drifting to his nostrils, but Kurt held his tongue, for he was not one to judge nor convict.

[siryn]

At first, when Terry turned her head to see who was addressing ger, she thought she was hallucinating. It never happened to her before, but the effect alcohol had on people was widely varied. Two piercing yellow eyes looked at the girl, the rest of the creatures body well blended into the darkness. Scream. Yes, Terry would have screamed, however her senses were so doused down that she didn't even have the strength to do that. Insread, she looked more closely at the blue devl, observing it's full appearance in length.

And then, she remembered who it was. Kurt Wagner, one of the school's residents. He always carried a cross and bible with him. Terry's eyes moved townwards, catching the outlines of a hanging cross. Yep, still there. Damn.

And he was asking all sort of questions, question that made Siryn even more sick than she was five minutes ago. Why can't he mind his own damn business?

"Dunno, don' care," Terry slurred out, her voice outlined with an Irish accent that was equally as vivid even when drunk. Oh god, she was so fucking sick. So sick she could just....

Terry gagged, quickly tilting her head at the edge of the fountain as a liquid mass of digested whiskey emerged from her throat. God, she hated this part. Why can't she just stop the drinking?

Once the second series of kecks came to an end, Siryn wiped her lips with crampy gesture of a hand, turning sideways to partially face Kurt. "Just ya leave me alone"

[nightcrawler]

Kurt knew very little of Theresa Cassidy or the family she came from, but then again, he still knew very little of any of the students here. His adopted role of councilor had a been a rather reluctant one at first, but his innate nature drew him to the role over time and so, as a result he began a late start into looking over the student files. Kurt found the reading to be rather.....inaccurate and preferred a more one on one approach with the students, actually getting a feel for each person and seeing in person just how they interacted with the life around them.

"One should not take for granted vhat is freely given to them, especially vhen there are so many others out there who are not as fortunate," he said in response to her blatant disregard for her lessons, his voice slow and his words carefully pronounced, making sure to choose each one correctly, but any other words he might have continued with where abruptly interrupted as Terry turned to her side quickly and vomited up the foul substance which she had so willingly consumed earlier. Kurt frowned a bit, feeling pity and sorrow for Terry, letting her brush off side past him. He wasn't about to leave this young girl by herself, not now at least, so reaching into one of the pockets of his coat, he pulled out a small white handkerchief, moving over to the side of the fountain and dipping part of it in the cool water. "Here," he said calmly and compassionately as he handed the handkerchief to Terry, the small white cloth contrasting greatly with his much larger fingers and indigo colored skin and fur. Kurt tilted his head to the side and watched Terry, his tail flicking back and forth slowly, waiting for her to take his assistance.

To Terry, Kurt may have been annoying, but all he was doing was offering her exactly what she need, just someone to help. He wasn't looking to be a mentor or teacher, but perhaps just a friendly face and a helping hand. Of course, some people had come to be cautious of such things, sometimes being turned against such actions by another who pretending to be such things, but in reality were nothing more than further problems and heartache.

[siryn]

Well, the blue imp certainly allowed some words of wisdom to slip off of his equally blue tongue while Terry vomitted on the grass, but frankly, she couldn't care less. She just couldn't help of thinking how messed up this whole situation was - alas, not the first, and not the last time for her. Siryn could tell Kurt was sparing pity upon her with that sad gaze of his, but what was worse is that she began to pity herself. How could ah've stooped so low?

Terry threw Kurt a sideways glance as he held a hankerchief in a motion of offering. She could tell there was no hidden meaning behind his actions, you can't fake that sincere (yet a bit creepy) look on the creature's face. Even at the age of seventeen, Theresa learned how to sort out the sinners and the saints - it was only easy after growing up with a persona such as Black Tom. But then again, Terry felt the need to punch him for being so damn nice. She didn't need anyones help or pity. She could handle herself just fine.

But could she really?

Finally, Terry took the hankerchief and guided the wet fabric across her rosy lips, wiping off the leftovers of the vomit. It kind of hurt her pride to be accepting help from another person, but Siryn just didn't have the strength to fight her ego anymore. Just not now...

"Thank you." Terry relpied, her voice barely above a whisper as she raised her blue orbs to look at the samaritan.

[nightcrawler]

Kurt tread semi-dangerous ground here, but that never really stopped the little blue elf from doing what he thought was right and from doing what he believed had to be done. Kurt was caring and compassionate by nature and nothing that was said or done to him could ever change that attitude and way of living. Sure he could have chose the easier path of anger and hate, using his ability for his own selfish needs, but that very compassion and pity stayed his hand in that matter. His adoptive family had been deeply religious...well....his mother and father anyway (his foster brother was a story for a whole other time and place) and as such, Kurt was deeply loved despite his appearance and condition. Hate was something Kurt rarely felt and did his best to avoid and drive away, choosing instead to feel sorry for those not strong enough to see outside of their physical and blind sight.

He tiltled his head to the side as he waited for Terry to take the wet cloth he held out for her, his face showing the sorrow there. There was something deeply troubling this young girl and he hoped she would allow him to help her take it away some how. This of course was briefly shown when she took the offered handkerchief and quickly thanked him. Kurt withdrew his hand slowly, smiling and nodding his head, "Erwähnen Sie es nicht," he said before shaking his head and pulling himself up on the concrete siding of the fountain, "Your velcome," he added, trying to use English instead of his natural German as he perched on the concrete now, his face still soft and smiling. "I'm....," he began then looked away to the clear cool water beside him, his mind searching for the right words, "I am a good listener," he finally began, looking back to Terry with those eerie yellow eyes of his. Kurt could tell something bothered Terry, after all, no one drunk like that unless something was bothering them....usually.