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[bodyoftheseus]

 

 

 

 

V INBOX text | audio | video It's V.
You know what to do.

 

 

 

 

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plants a flag in ur inbox, this belongs to me now

[flatly]

[Alec wakes up only twice in the 20 hours following his return from the mall. Once to blow through three glasses of water straight from the tap and then shower despite the fact that he definitely shouldn't be doing so while half-asleep because he can't be bothered to keep his freshly bandaged stab wound elevated and dry, and once to go to the bathroom. When he is finally roused for the last time it takes him what feels like at least a full minute to figure out why.

Music.

Very loud music. Discordant, and pulsing through his skull like an impending headache that hasn't quite started yet. His mouth is dry again and his whole body aches, everything feels like it's moving at a mile a minute and also not at all, and he definitely started bleeding again at some point during the night (and day, and night again) but the only thing he can't just close his eyes and ignore is the sound of bass guitar.

Almost on autopilot, he drags himself out of bed and into the hall so he can pound a fist on the neighbor's door, hair still mussed with pillow creases on one side of his face, sweats and a wrinkled tank-top on. Does he even want to go back to sleep again? Shh. That's not the point here. Open up, V!]

inbox conquered, now to conquer the man >:3c

[bodyoftheseus]

[ V, for his part, was on one of his benders. What'd happened to him in the mall was yet another fucked up thing in a series of fucked up things that he just wasn't going to acknowledge happening. He made it a point to buy liquor, get his hands on a few things that were a lot less legal, and he'd been chasing being numb since. He'd eventually set up his new record player and threw a vinyl on and... Just smoke, drink, and listen.

The music was angry, so angry, and filled with hate - he could recall how Johnny had felt in his memories while he was on stage. Every time V closed his eyes he would relive those memories of being on stage and it made V feel so sick. He was struggling enough with what he was here, and the mall just made him even worse. It didn't help that it made V realize what he'd done to Johnny by giving him a new lease on life forcing him to take their his the body back to live. V couldn't look in the mirror because his eyes forced him to see his mother, he couldn't handle a couple of days of looking in the mirror and seeing Johnny staring back - Johnny was condemned to a life of constantly seeing V's face staring back at him. He idly held Johnny's Malorian, staring down at it. The safety was on but still, he didn't finger the gun's trigger. He just... Liked the weight of it in his hand, the feeling of the metal against his (organic) skin.

Bang, bang, bang.

V heard it, yeah, he'd heard whoever was at the door. Probably here to bitch about the volume. He took a drag of his cigarette and considered if he wanted to get up. He must have taken too long to think about it because he heard the pounding on the door again. He grumbled and stood, stumbling a little as he straightened up. He stumbled to the closet to slip Johnny's Malorian into the pocket of his coat, then stumbled his way back to the door. He wasn't sure if he heard a third round of pounding on the door or if that was just the music.

The door finally opened and V wasn't even looking at who was there at first, turning his head away to exhale smoke. He looked back to see who was at the door. It was Alec. He looked like shit but V imagined he did too. V had the door open enough that it was easy to see what he'd been doing: the bottle of tequila at the foot of V's bed on the floor next to a clearly used ashtray, the record player a little ways away (likely so V wouldn't accidentally knock it while being drunk) but not so far it was inconvenient. ]

What?

[flatly]

[Both Izzy and Jace are prone to partying, and Alec is half sure that Magnus invented it, but he has been a dedicated stick in the mud his whole life despite the three of them (he is simply not counting the time he got drunk and accidentally stayed the night on Magnus' couch, thank you, or their extremely awkward first date) so he's still somehow surprised to see the state of V's room. He blinks, his slightly bleary stare jumping from the cloud of cigarette smoke that V blows out to the tequila bottle and finally to V.

He looks rough. Alec didn't bother with a mirror before stomping on over here, so he doesn't think to compare. He wonders vaguely what V got up to in the mall, because as far as he can tell no one had a good time this week.]

That's too loud. [There. That's what he came to say, and once he's done saying it it's like he freed up enough RAM in his brain to ask:] —Are you drunk? [Asked, admittedly, a little like he's not sure it's legal. Look. He's doing his best here but he wouldn't know an attempt to loosen up if it bit him in the ass.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ There were a few seconds of lag between Alec speaking and V reacting as if he were a youtube video that needed to buffer. It was hard to pick out what Alec was saying over the music and even then it took V a second to actually process what had been said. When he caught on to the noise complaint - he was right, it was simply that, and he could care less - there was a flick of V's eyes that wasn't quite an eye roll. V had caught the motion before he'd entirely done it so his gaze just flicked to the side, annoyed, before shifting back to Alec.

Then came the thousand-dollar question of if he was drunk. Of course he was, what a stupid question. The real crime was that it'd taken this long for him to start drinking, honestly. He didn't grow defensive or anything about it though - Night City was a city of hedonism, after all. It encouraged the worst vices and habits. As far as V was concerned it was more surprising that Alec wasn't. ]

Course. You upset I didn't invite you over to join?

[ V straightened up - he hadn't realized how heavily he'd been leaning on the door - and sauntered back into the room. He left the door open for Alec to come in if he wanted, passing by the nightstand to grab two shot glasses (resting on top of a book and next to another gun). ]

Come and join, or don't. Don't matter to me. Just close the door behind you.

[ Once he'd heard the door close, he settled back down on the floor at the foot of the bed - Alec probably didn't miss the way he had to stabilize himself on the edge of the bed, the way he came down on the floor just a little too hard. He set the shot glasses down next to the bottle, then leaned over to the speaker he had the vinyl player hooked up to and turned it down. The music was low, now, so that V could hear Alec speaking clearly. ]

[flatly]

[It's about when V turns back around that Alec finally notices he's just got on his boxer briefs under the t-shirt, and whatever (doubtlessly at least a little rude) thing he'd about to say dies right there on his tongue.] Uh—

[And there goes the music too, which had almost been like a buffer due to the amount of space it took up in the room by volume alone. He steps in and lets the door click shut behind him before his brain actually manages to come back online. It's not like seeing skin bothers him, exactly: Shadowhunters don't have much body shame left in them by the time they hit adulthood by virtue of sweaty shirtless sparring for no reason and communal showering among other things, but this context is certainly. Not any of that.

Alec's face is a couple shades redder by the time V is done clumsily making his way back to the party spot, but he's Very Pointedly not looking at literally anything but the bottle. Maybe a drink wouldn't be so bad right now, actually. What are they going to do, fire him? He doesn't have a job here. (Oh, god, he doesn't have a job here.)]

Yeah. Okay. [Wow, smooth.] What is it? [Not that Alec has enough experience with alcohol to decide whether he'd like it or not just by the name. (He will not like it, because he's a big nerd who can barely stomach the taste of alcohol, but that's neither here nor there.)]

i did a full bottle wine/mead and 3 vodka shots before writing this please disregard grammar

[bodyoftheseus]

[ He absolutely noticed the way Alec's face was definitely flushed - being white or white-passing certainly had its drawbacks - but he certainly said nothing about it. It would be hard to tell if he noticed or if he was just being polite from an outside perspective but it was absolutely that V just didn't wish to put Alec on the spot about it. If he was still in the closet to the world or to himself then V wasn't going to drag him out but that Alec was blushing was noted and would not be forgotten. ]

Tequlia. Not Centzon but it's not awful.

[ He was pouring both of the shots for the two of them. He offered one of the shot glasses to Alec, then handed one of the shot glasses to Alec. ]

Cheers?

[ It wasn't particularly excited or happy, just acknowledging an excuse to drink. All of this was just an excuse to push more alcohol into his body and to keep this high going. The fact that Alec was joining him was only a benefit because it was someone to talk to so he didn't drown in his own melancholy.

It was more than clear that Alec wasn't a drinker by the way his expression shifted as he took the shot and tasted the liquor. V would never admit that the way Alec's face contorted amused him greatly but it did. He just poured more shots, clinked their glasses once Alec's face figured out how to work again, then threw it back. The way that V shifted his legs in the way he sat showed a hint of a tattoo under his boxers on his left thigh, though it was clear Alec would need to undress him to see the full thing and uncover any other mysteries V might have hidden on his body. ]

Gonna be real - you look worse off'n when we met. You okay?

method rping (but also there are no mistakes ur perfect)

[flatly]

[Alec's stare remains blank at the brand name, but he's been learning that more expensive liquor doesn't actually mean it'll taste better, so he sits down with only a slightly dubious glance at the floor and takes his first shot with determined neutrality.

Which obviously doesn't last.

The second shot goes down exactly like the first did: Alec makes a face like the taste of it physically socked him in the nose while he was just trying to have a conversation with it. Somehow caught off guard both times and utterly unable to maintain any decorum about it.] Ugh. [He means thanks for the shots, honest! He also clearly hasn't learned his lesson, because he automatically holds the glass out again. The shots have not actually hit him yet, so he's still got his eyes on the prize.

Especially after that question. The mall was everything he'd feared coming back to bite him in the ass. After the guilt and the horror and watching Clary fall apart again and again he'd thought, if there was ever another demon he'd be prepared. He knew the costs of not being strong enough to fight it. Then, he still just wasn't. He never thought he'd be grateful that they made him human here, but his runes not working while he was cooped up in that mall with so many mundanes and a demon—the same demon, the same one—wearing his body was nothing short of a blessing.

He doesn't remember anything, except Wren freeing him with mild perforation. There was no slick, still-warm heart weighing down the palm of his hand when he came to, no haunted eyes of the girl he had no right to resent anymore. (He never really had that right, but shh.) He's hanging onto that like it's the only thing keeping him upright at the moment.] Had a long day. [Not sleeping for more than a few frantic minutes at a time with no endurance or stamina runes to compensate for it made the whole five days blur into one gaudy slog through his new least favorite place in his least favorite town.] Should I feel insulted? [It's not often he gets negative comments about his looks. He maybe takes that a little for granted.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ The way that Alec's face contorted when he tasted the liquor was so very charming to V. Night City was a city of hedonism so to see that reaction was very uncommon, especially given V spent as little time as possible around people much younger than him. He didn't know that he was smiling slightly - a little crooked smile - as he poured them both another shot.

He let himself sneak glances at Alec, trying not to linger too long as he looked him over. He was handsome even if he did look roughed up and disheveled right now. The tattoos he had were so interesting - the style was so bold, and he wondered if they had any meaning. There was something charming about how disheveled he looked as well, though that made V's mind wander into their scuffle in the mall, though there was no way for Alec to realize it was him who'd given him such a beating. It was no easy task and V finally noticed just how muscular Alec was. He was glad to slam back the next shot. ]

Don't think so but it's your prerogative. Don't really got a right to be though.

[ V knew that the reason Alec looked so rough was partially his fault. He could still feel the dull ache in his shoulder where the knife Alec had thrown had embedded itself - it would have been a lot more painful if he weren't drunk - and he recalled the fight that came after. ]

Kinda nice to see even the prettiest of us have off nights though. Means there's hope for the rest of us.

[flatly]

[A startled expression manages to fight its way past his next tequila-induced grimace, and he blinks over at V like he hadn't actually expected that. A lifetime of standing next to Jace and expecting to be looked over (looked under, really, because some people barely come up to his shoulders) hasn't been chased off even despite Magnus' recent effusive efforts. Of it's own volition, the corner of Alec's mouth twitches up into an almost-smile that's half-pleased and half-absolutely dopey. Listen.

Maybe he is starting to feel the effects of the three rapidly downed shots after all. A little bit. That's the excuse he's hanging onto for why the flush is definitely back, anyway.

He flounders for a moment trying to decide whether to say thanks or just sit there stupidly, because even caught off guard and flattered enough that his brain has turned into mush he knows better than to blurt out you have nice legs. After that awkward second he holds up his shot glass again hopefully, just to have something to focus on that's not gay panic.] Uh— you never, said your name?

[bodyoftheseus]

[ V noted the startled expression, filing it away in the back of his mind. He was used to flirting with almost anyone of any moderate amount of attractiveness and it was rare to receive surprise as the reaction to it. Usually, it was indulged and things would escalate - V's usual goal. If it happened here, V wouldn't say no, and it would be a nice distraction, but it was definitely not at the forefront of his mind. The almost-smile told more of the story and a part of V knew that this would be an entertaining way to playfully antagonize Alec. ]

Guess I forgot to tell ya when you were takin' care of my hand, huh? [ He poured another pair of shots, giving his name as he poured. ] Name's V.

[ He set the bottle down and grabbed his shot glass, clinking it against Alec's as if to say cheers before pounding it back. If he'd known having Alec here would make him drink this much faster he would have invited Alec over. He noticed the feeling in his face starting to go as the rapid shots started to catch up and V moved the bottle a little away to subtly signal to wait for a little while. The expressions that Alec had been giving told V that he wasn't a particularly experienced drinker and four shots like this on what V suspected was an empty stomach was likely not very wise. ]

So, uh, your ink. [ V reached over and lightly touched one of the exposed runes on Alec's arm. He purposefully let his fingers linger against Alec before pulling away. ] They mean anything? Or you just like the attention?

[flatly]

[Alec should probably protest the playful accusation, but V's finger on his arm completely derails his thoughts. He looks down at where they're touching, grip reflexively tightening on the now empty (for the fourth time) shot-glass. Oh. Goosebumps erupt in the wake of that contact, and when V's hand withdraws Alec's eyes trail after it like he sorta wants to chase it before they jump back up to V's face, guilty. He takes a second to relocate his own tongue.] They're not tattoos, they're runes. [For some reason he finds himself thinking of Magnus, smirking beneath all his glitter. Voice low, drink in hand. I'm not being cryptic, I'm being coy. V is not being much more coy than Magnus had been, but it takes approximately a shotgun blast of intention to actually make it past Alec's seventeen layers of insecurity and obliviousness. He licks his lips, and promptly winces because they taste like Tequila still. Give him a second.] They all do something. That's Soundless.

[He hesitates, eyes dropping back down to his own arm before liquid courage has him turning it enough that the rune on his rather large bicep faces up to the ceiling.] Strength. [Alright, this is maybe just a little bit for the attention. Shh. He tugs the neckline of his tank-top slightly out of the way to show the mark that sits just past where his collarbone ends:] Stealth. [He has plenty more runes to name, but he can't seem to stop his own gaze from trailing over the lines on V's face and neck. They're awfully blurry now, but even before throwing back an inadvisable amount of notoriously hard liquor, Alec had been curious about them. And V seems so much more willing to talk now than he had been before...] What are yours for?

the rare smiley icon O:

[bodyoftheseus]

[ The goosebumps that rose on Alec's arm made the corner of V's lips turn up in a faint smile. This was fun - really, it was. He was used to this being an almost routine dance with someone else, assuming he didn't just pay someone for their time. V wasn't sure that he'd ever actually interacted with someone this sweet. Maybe he had been this way sometime when he was a kid and he was trying to scrounge up enough money to eat food and crash in some gross, shitty motel for a night, but he couldn't remember those years very well - especially not this drunk.

The explanation they were runes didn't do much to help him but V hazily recalled the way Alec talked about magic and figured it must have been tied to that. He considered what Alec might have meant by "they do something" - maybe they enhanced him based on the name? Maybe V should have been a gamer. It probably would have made more sense. ]

Not sure why you'd need that one. [ V gently touched the strength rune. He seemed as if he might let his touch linger but he pulled back as if Alec had burned him at the question on what his cyberscars - tattoos, now - were for. There was a visible bristling followed by an oddly detached and cold demeanor to V as he looked down at the marks on his hands, his thumb rubbing over the now blackwork on his right palm. ]

Well, told you my arms used to be mechanical. These, [ one black fingernail traced over the lines that seemed to mark the joints in his fingers, over his hands, up his arms, ] were where my arms came apart so the blades could pop out. This, [ pointing to his right palm, ] was a smart link. Told me information 'bout my guns, and integrated with smart weapons. This one, [ what looked like a jack on the heel of his left hand, ] was my personal link. Used for hookin' into systems. [ He reached up to gently touch the lines across his face, avoiding Alec's gaze. ] This a combination of havin' to fix my face and placement of wires for my eyes when I got them. [ His hand fell away from his face. ] None'f those're s'pposed to be ink though. Should all be metal'n synth skin.

I do got actual tattoos. [ He seemed to come alive a bit more as he moved past the pieces of himself that were missing and into something that was a little more familiar and part of him. He pointed to his inner left thigh. ] This was my medical info 'fore I transitioned. Got it done a couple days after surgery. [ Sure enough: if you squinted hard enough you could read his old name, DOB, blood type, etc. Too bad Alec was probably too drunk to be able to read that V was originally short.

V skipped entirely over the tattoo on his right forearm that looked like a drunk man did it (a drunk man did do it), as well as the one on the back of his head (which he often forgot he even had). If he were sober he might have taken into account the fact that Alec was so easily flummoxed by a simple touch and hesitate but he, unfortunately, was drunk, and he (unfortunately) had even less shame than a common dog. He pulled his shirt off to reveal the rest of his tattoos and a pair of scars that were still rather prominent under his pecs. They all had been conveniently hidden beneath his t-shirt - likely a rather specific choice. ]

These're all the tattoos I actually got.

♥!

[flatly]

[Alec blinks when V's mood shifts abruptly, straightening up with a wince: his torso is a riot of purple and yellow bruising, and the tight lid he generally keeps on his self-control is slip-sliding down a slope of alcohol and bad decisions as the tequila starts to really settle into his system. He spends half a second doing his level best to rub a few braincells together to figure out what he did wrong that V suddenly sounds like Alec just told him he was on weapons cleaning duty for the entire Institute for the next week, but V's explanation is—

Wow. Prosthetics are a thing, obviously. The idea of a robot arm had been strange to Alec, but not impossible with even just mundane medicine. The lines of V's missing cyberware, though, they map to places that are definitely not replaceable on the human body as far as he knows. Not without changing someone into a Vampire to come back to life afterwards, maybe.

And did he just say there are supposed to be pop-out blades in his arms?

As Alec is still mentally trying to play catch-up to V's continued explanation, he finds himself glancing down at the tattoo on V's thigh and immediately going cherry red as he is reminded that the man is in his underwear (no, he did not manage to read a single word of it because his eyes snap back away from it like the Claive is just around the corner waiting to catch him doing something Too Gay and— what, demote him even further? He made out with a man at his own wedding in front of them. On purpose. Listen, he's not exactly thinking straight at the moment.) Then V's pulling his shirt off so he's in just his underwear and Alec's ability to wrangle his own stare finally hits its limit. His eyes, completely of their own volition and certainly through no fault of his own, skirt across the curve of the snake and the bump of muscles beneath the skin and the scars— oh, it finally registers what V has been saying to him as he's been getting progressively more naked.

Luckily, by now he has had some actual contact with the real world beyond the isolated little bubble of asshole angels that he grew up in, because the Claive had never had so much as an openly gay Shadowhunter before, so one might imagine how little Alec had heard of outside of his own experience. Magnus though, bless him, has the patience of a saint so V doesn't have a volley of stupid questions waiting for him. Instead Alec holds up a hand between them like he's trying to put a pause on... everything, clearly concentrating.] Wait. What— year are you from? [He is doing everything in his power to distract himself, here. Be cool, Alec. Have even one dignity, please.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ Just as there was nothing subtle about V (in his defense he's very drunk) and how he might be attracted enough to Alec to basically undress before him despite his usually better judgment, there was nothing subtle in the way Alec ogled over V's form. V loved the attention. Kerry was the only person in recent time that gave him attention that wasn't just pity or awkwardly dancing around the fact he was dying, so having someone that was looking at him without that melancholy was such a fucking relief. Alec could literally only consider him a piece of fuckable meat at this point and that would be fine by V but considering how flustered he'd made Alec, V figured it wasn't like that. ]

Died in 2077.

[ He had a slightly annoyed tone in his response as if Alec was asking a stupid question. He idly reached up to run his fingers over some stitches in his shoulder - clearly done by himself, surprisingly neat - wincing slightly at the sting that broke through his drunkenness. Without his cyberware to help him keep up with his habits he was definitely drunker than he'd meant to get and that meant he'd forgotten shit he should have remembered: they were all from different places and times. It also meant that his lips were quite a bit looser than they should have been. ]

Why?

[ He had already forgotten that he had set the bottle to the side to slow the two of them down, picking it up to take a swig from it. ]

[flatly]

Died? [Alec's first thought is vampire, and he stares blankly at V, trying very hard to recall if he'd ever seen the man in direct sunlight. Turns out, it's hard to remember much of anything right now. Okay, so, would a vampire drink tequila? Alec always assumed they'd just drink blood from someone drunk on tequila, but he tries to avoid talking to Simon whenever possible so he hasn't exactly asked a vampire about the party habits of night children. Hmm... despite his statement V isn't actually corpse pale, and Alec likes to think he would at least notice someone being a vampire right in front of him.

Surely there's something else going on here?

Regardless, trying so hard to think is really making him dizzy right now. Alec snags the bottle for a swig himself after V gets his mouthful, and this time his grimace is slightly less dramatic just due to the fact that he can barely taste anything anymore. His attention swims up to V's shoulder: yeah, a vampire would not need stitches like that.

At why?, Alec fixes V with a baffled look, glazed eyes and all. V is the wacky future guy, he's not allowed to ask that like Alec is the one being weird!! When Alec manages to speak again he's starting to get noticeably slurred:] What? Because I've never heard of mechanical eyes before. Or automatic arm-blades. Anyway, it's supposed to be 2016. Not... 1980s. Or 2077. [Up until now he'd been sorta assuming that the whole town was just trapped in a localized spell—maybe an illusion, maybe some sort of warped reality—but if people are genuinely time traveling then it's obviously more complicated than that.

The implications of that are something he straight up just cannot deal with right now.

Moving right along!! He tips the bottle towards V's shoulder to indicate the stitches. He's clumsy enough now that a bit of clear liquid sloshes down over his fingers.] What happened? Did you get stabbed? [What a delicate way to ask that. Sorry, V!]

checking 23 times which arm johnny lost in the war

[bodyoftheseus]

Yeah, died. Couple times. One was a bullet to the head, [ he pointed two fingers like a gun, put it against his forehead where he'd been shot, and acted like he pulled the trigger before his hand dropped back to start fiddling nervously with the fabric of his shirt. ] Other's not so straightforward.

[ There he was: shifting back into a bristled skittishness. Perhaps the last thing he really wanted to talk about right now was Johnny and how he'd made Johnny take the body and keep living just so that he could finally quit. He'd thought he'd finally catch a fucking break. Surely being dead couldn't be reversed, right? Surely he could finally just check out and stop thinking about anything at all and let his miserable life dissolve behind him, right? Apparently not, as evidenced by the fact he was sitting here in just his underwear fiddling nervously with his shirt, very drunk and very much wanting to kiss the guy he was talking to. The alcohol numbed out the confusion, hurt, anger, and sadness he'd been left with but he knew it'd just come back whenever he finally passed out long enough and woke up sober (enough). ]

This tech existed in 2016. Maybe not the same'r as advanced but still there. [ V knew by now that different times had been spanned between the people who were dragged here but it was still strange to think that V was - so far - the only person who came from a world with cyberware and similar such upgrades. He didn't like that. ] Fuck, I watched a 160-year-old man get choked out by his son. He woulda been born... [ Maybe he shouldn't be trying to do math in his head while he was this drunk. There's definitely a pause and a look of effort on V's expression but he still came to the answer after a few seconds. ] 1917? Somethin' 'round there. [ Following the news was always more of Jack's thing, anyway. V knew much of the history of Night City but the politics of it all was never really his interest.

His attention was drawn fully to the stab wound and he looked down at it, now more purposefully prodding at it. He started to laugh. He knew that he had looked like Johnny at the time but the idea that Alec somehow knew Johnny and hated him enough to stab him on sight was funny. The more realistic answer, of course, was that something else was going on, but who knew what overlapped and what didn't between all of these different places they were from. Maybe Johnny was alive and well in Alec's world, and it would be more appropriate to know Johnny. He didn't die until 2023, after all, and even Kerry - the man who loved Johnny - considered him a complete bastard. ]

You did that. Was mindin' my own fuckin' business'n you threw a knife at me like some fuckin' ninja. We even fought'n everything. I didn't look like me though so I could get if you don't remember. I looked like Johnny Silverhand. [ A pause, then he offered: ] left arm was made entirely'f metal?

[flatly]

[Okay, that's a lot, start to finish—everything V just said and gestured—but Alec will have to get back to it because he blanches. His mouth opens and closes a few times like he's floundering for some sort of excuse, and his gaze skitters around V's almost naked form again, except this time he's looking for any other signs of damage that he might have done.

He'd known that he attacked more people than just Wren, but when he came to he hadn't been covered with enough blood to think he'd done that much damage to anyone but himself, with his new patchwork of bruises. But here V is, with stitches.

(He tries to not be a tiny little bit incensed over the demon throwing knives around like a show-off. That sort of thing is for people who don't want to dedicate the time and effort necessary to master archery, and they're embarrassingly easy to catch out of the air too: tacky all around.)]

I don't remember... anything. [He eventually settles on, clumsily clutching at the tequila bottle with both hands and twisting it slowly between them like he'd be wringing his hands together if it weren't in the way. Painfully earnest. Not that he wouldn't feel just as awful when stone cold sober, but he'd never look quite so contrite. Definitely a complete 180 from thirty seconds ago, when he'd been so judgmentally blunt.] I'm— sorry. Are you alright?

[bodyoftheseus]

[ With another look, and now searching for signs of a scuffle, Alec could definitely find bruises scattered along V's torso as telltale signs of struggle. They did not look serious or severe - maybe that would help put Alec's mind at ease, maybe not. It was certainly clear that V had put up enough of a struggle that he managed to hold his own against Alec, and that he'd proven himself to be much more trouble than the demon (not that V knew it was a demon, of course) had initially expected. That was how V had to grow up though: as a child, he had been small and slight so he had to make up for it by making whoever was trying to bother him regret every single moment of it. He fought hard and he fought dirty. If that demon hadn't retreated then one of them would have died and V would do his best to make sure it wasn't him. ]

What do you mean you don't remember? We had a good--

[ The shift in Alec's mood finally registered through all of the liquor and the amusement that V had and the rest of what he was saying died in his throat. It occurred to V that Alec acted like an ass - making him bristle was amusing - but there was a man inside of there that very clearly cared. The sincerity of his remorse left V at a loss for words and he found himself finally struggling to respond. There had been more attempts on V's life than he could possibly begin to enumerate, and never had someone actually been sorry for trying to kill him (well, they were sorry when V finally exacted his revenge, but that wasn't actual remorse). That this, of all things, what was stunned V into silence was in itself a testament to how fucked up Night City was. It was too bad V didn't recognize that. ]

Yeah, I'm fine. I've dealt with a lot worse. [ He gave Alec a small, playful nudge. ] Gonna take more'n a middleweight like you to beat my ugly mug.

[flatly]

[Alec is slightly relieved and more than slightly surprised to see that he clearly took the worse beating between them (discounting, of course, the stab wound), but obviously a metal fist is going to leave plenty of bruises behind where flesh and bones might fail to make an impression. At least, that's what he's telling himself. On instinct, Alec stops fiddling with the bottle and presses his palm to one of the more prominent bruises sitting on the right side of his ribcage beneath his shirt. That would definitely be the easiest place to hit hardest, with the left arm of somebody facing him.

So the demon had bad taste in weapons and embarrassed him in a fight, cool. Alec should be glad for that, considering—Alec is glad for that—but still. The competitive side of him, fostered by years and years of Dealing with Jace, wants to prove he can do better than he clearly did. Even though he has no idea what V is capable of, or any memories about how he actually performed. Listen. Minor details.]

You're not ugly, [he blurts immediately before he can stop himself. That's important information to get out there!! Then follows up with what he meant to say:] Middleweight? [It turns out that having friends as tall as you are is bad actually. Maybe he has been taking for granted the fact that he's so much bigger than anyone else he knows at home (except Luke, who would never crack jokes. Obviously.) Alec sniffs indignantly, then seems to recall he's got the tequila, and takes another swig.] I want a rematch without the demon. [Maybe in a week when he recovers from his impending hangover, because he is not going to be doing so good in the morning.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ The compliment that Alec blurted out made V finally settle on a small smile, though it certainly was covering up the melancholy that was trying its damndest to claw its way up from the depths of hell and settle in his chest. V could recall late nights, drunk and high, sitting in the car and play arguing with Kerry about how ugly he was just to make Kerry keep calling him handsome, or cute, or sexy, or whatever the mood was. Eventually, one of them would laugh and pull the other into a kiss and call the other an asshole and they'd stumble into V's apartment or Kerry's house.

Before the guilt could set in V forced himself to discard the compliment and push the thoughts of Kerry aside (he coughed in the back of his throat as if he needed a drink) to focus on Alec's offense taken. He chuckled lightly. He repossessed the bottle and it was his turn to take a swig, which he held into a drink, which maybe he should have stopped by now but here he was, then he set it down and continued chuckling. ]

Okay, sure. [ A crooked smile formed on V's face. ] What do I get when I win? [ In truth, V didn't know which way the odds would tilt if it were actually Alec he fought (since, apparently, he hadn't fought Actually Alec™ before), and if he were honest he didn't particularly care who won or who lost. It was very clear that Alec cared sot aht meant that it was easy, low-hanging fruit to pull a reaction from him. ]

[flatly]

Uh, practice? [Alec says, like the most boring person in the world. What a prize! Then his nose wrinkles, belatedly.] Don't worry about it, you're not going to win. [Growing up with both Jace and Izzy did at least prepare him for pre-fight smack-talk. He's not committing to it very well though, because his he's leaning his head back against the foot of the bed and closing his eyes to stop the room from doing disorienting little spins around him every time he moves (or thinks too hard) with a bit of a dopey smile at nothing in particular.

Staring at the inside of his eyelids helps him grasp some of the previously abandoned threads that V left hanging out there, though. After a moment of listening to the weird discordant music that V put on—wondering if Izzy or Magnus would like it, they both like some terrible sounding stuff in his opinion—his brow furrows, but he doesn't lift his head back up or anything. He feels like he might actually fall over if he tries that right now. Yes, even while sitting.] Who's... Johnny Silverarm? [Close enough. He's getting on-the-nose name mixed with the described concept, but he can at least remember Johnny. (The Jonathan he knows goes by Jace, but it's not exactly a name he'd forget. Even if Magnus makes a point of doing so every day, and Alec loyally pretends not to find the joke funny whenever he's around to hear it.)] Why'd you look like him? [The pictures felt awfully targeted for him, he's just assuming the same is true for V.

And he's trying to work his way back to the death thing, because it's a lot.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ Practice was definitely not a fitting reward, and there was certainly some joke that could be made about how being all work and no play could make Alec dull. In truth, Alec was anything but dull - admittedly because he was so easy to rile up. ] Okay, whatever you say. [ His words were dismissive (as part of the pre-fight game, of course), though his tone was warm and relaxed. It was very clear that Alec cared a lot more about the outcome of this than V did. V was not sure who would win between the two of him - he didn't have an arm made out of metal anymore, even if he did outweigh Alec - and he really didn't care either way. All that V knew is in this little rematch V wouldn't be letting Alec off easy.

As Alec let his head fall back and left his eyes closed V looked at him and took his time taking him in. He was handsome, incredibly so, even though he was a mess (both before he came over, and now as he was drunk). The questions that Alec asked him registered but he didn't really want to answer them. It was true that he'd opened his mouth and said far too much - he realized that (very belatedly) now. He could talk about Johnny, at least, and he could at least be honest enough to say that he wasn't sure why he turned into Johnny (though the symbolism of it was not lost on V). He let the silence between them grow until Alec either reiterated the question or seemed to grow restless about it.

His gaze fell back onto his hands, once again fidgeting with his shirt. It was clear he didn't want to talk about this but he would try to answer the questions at least partially. ]

Johnny Silverhand was a rockerboy where I'm from. Frontman for the band Samurai, [ the logo on the jacket that V had worn when they'd met, that was hanging up - if Alec had a knack for remembering details, ] vocalist and lead guitarist. [ His boyfriend's ex-boyfriend, though he doesn't add that. ] Pending what payroll you're on he was either a terrorist or a revolutionary.

Looked like him 'cause my photo looked like him, I guess.[ Technically correct - he wasn't sure why Johnny, of all things; he didn't know why it turned him into Johnny rather than force him to put up with Johnny actually being here and talking to him, mocking him, harassing him. ] Don't know why, really. [ Another thing that was technically correct but a piece of him knew better. It was incredibly personal and it was some greater force - call it god, call it karma - punishing him for... His choices? Merely existing? Either one. Maybe both. Did it matter? Not really, no. ]

[flatly]

[Hmm, a musician. Izzy once archly informed him that everyone is attracted to musicians, but at the time Alec had been desperately trying not to think of Jace looking lost and sad at the piano. Certainly those weren't Jace's most attractive moments (tell that to Alec's stupid sappy heart), so he's not sure how accurate her declaration had been. What other musicians has he even met? Simon, he guesses. No comment either way on purported nerd hotness of the most annoying person he's ever been trapped in a room with. And now some mysterious metal-armed man that he doesn't remember, who can apparently punch very well. (Even more no comment on whether or not the last part qualifies much more as Alec's type than being able to create music.)

Wait, how'd he get on this train of thought?

Alec blinks his eyes open again, and they slide over to regard V without him bothering to tip his head back upright. The effect of what otherwise might have been an intense stare is completely lost, because Alec is having a lot of trouble focusing his gaze when there are two of V floating before him. That should be worrying, but there's worse things to see double of.]

You don't like talking about this. [Alec is always pretty observant—being able to spot weaknesses is about the only way to survive in Nephilim politics—but when he's drunk he absolutely doesn't have the good graces not to prod. Or, you know, keep whatever information he gleans to himself for more effective, targeted use later.] Or like, anything. About yourself. [He reaches out clumsily to jab an accusing finger into V's ribcage, picking the correct one to aim for on a total 50/50 gamble.] V's not a name, it's a letter.

[bodyoftheseus]

[ In the moments of silence between them V perked up just enough to take another swig from the tequila as if to reinforce that he had no desire to talk about him in any depth. Barely skimming the surface was intentional, especially when Alec was picking at V's latest trauma like a kid picks at a scab regardless of how much it hurts. Not that Alec had any idea that he was doing such a thing but V was unaccustomed to people being so nosy. V found himself missing Night City just because of how impersonal it was, and how little he had to explain about himself. The people who knew only knew because it was an intentional choice on his part, and there were only two of those left. At least they would last, probably.

Alec managed to land his jab into the real V's ribs, and that earned a downward glance as if confirming that it actually happened and wasn't imagined. He already wasn't particularly pleased with Alec calling him out on his evasion of most of Alec's questions (as it pertained to him personally, anyway), and the jab certainly didn't help his mood, but insulting the moniker V - the very moniker he'd been using for years - clearly struck a nerve. The change in V was immediate: where he had been calm and perhaps even still had notes of mischievous playfulness to him boiled off immediately and was replaced with clear rage. It took all of V's self-control to restrain it and keep it controlled but the change couldn't have been more night and day. V spoke slowly, picking his words carefully and focusing hard on not slurring his words so that he could be sure that Alec understood every single one of them. There was a passive threat of violence in the green eyes that flicked up to bore a hole into Alec. ]

'Cause I owe you my history? You think that's it? We just fuckin' met each other, and you been an asshole since we met. [ His tone grew sharper. ] I didn't fuckin' ask to be brought back t'life a second time'n be sent here where I lost half my body'n can't even fuckin' recognize myself in the mirror.

[ He huffed and readjusted himself to settle into a more comfortable position. His voice lost some of its intensity. ] You're hardly one to talk - Alec's probably short for Alexander? [ Alec earned an irritated sidelong glance, looking for confirmation. ] Doubt you even picked that name yourself, [ he scoffed as his gaze shifted away. ]

[flatly]

[Alec's eyebrows jump up at V's latest mood swing like he definitely wasn't expecting that. Both because he's very slow on the uptake right now, and because he's no stranger to the kind of snarling, barely contained anger that V is bleeding everywhere. It's practically homey.

He suddenly misses Magnus terribly. They'd even barely gotten to know each other before Alec suddenly woke up here a few weeks ago, just a tiny handful of whirlwind dates on different continents interspersed between all the rainchecks that Alec had to take. But even when Alec was at his prickliest and most annoying, Magnus had been fun to drink with: all glitter and interesting stories and infinite patience. He didn't think he could recreate that, exactly, but it had been nice enough that he'd been willing to try. To be less lonely, at least for a little while. To hear about people's lives when they aren't just a bunch of Nephilim who have lived basically the same life he has already, training from the moment they can figure out how to pick up weapons to go out and die.

People who aren't mundanes, obviously. Alec could never quite muster up any interest in that.

But talking to V feels like talking to a brick wall. There's obviously something behind it, you don't lay bricks unless you've got something to protect, but hell if Alec can tell what it is. Apparently, he shouldn't even be trying to figure it out.

His hand drops back into his own lap, and he doesn't stop staring for a long moment after V is done, but whatever open curiosity that had been painted sloppily across his face is gone and he just looks blank.] Why did you invite me in?

[bodyoftheseus]

[ After asking his question Alec could watch V have his entire internal struggle as it played out across his face. If he were more sober he'd say something to the effect of he just wanted to use Alec and try to get in his sweats but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. V was used to being miserable but this place was really taking it to a new level with the way it brought him back from the dead and everything.

He let him in to have someone to talk to and drink with. Someone he could bitch about this awful place to, and commiserate over whatever grief they felt in terms of what they lost to be here. Sure, that would require V to open up somewhat, but he could steer the conversation so it wasn't picking at his trauma and making him relive his last couple of weeks. The longer he waffled over the answer (it felt like hours, but it was maybe a few seconds?) the more he realized just how fucking alone he felt. He realized that what he had been doing before Alec had shown up on his doorstep was trying to kill himself without putting the gun against his head.

There was a moment - blink and you miss it - where V's walls faltered and all that was left was the tired man that shouldered more guilt, grief, and sadness than any man ever should. Maybe it was clear that V's anger was a smokescreen to distract himself and others from the bone-deep despair V generally felt, maybe it wasn't.

There's a very palpable melancholy that slips through all of his walls and his drunkenness as he shifts to physically move away from Alec a little, uncomfortable at this spotlight that has been put directly on him. V finally managed to get enough control of himself at least a little so that, while it was clear he was unhappy, it wasn't the near hopeless depression that V carried on his shoulders. ]

I... [ He hesitated. Why was this so fucking hard? ] I didn't wanna be alone.

[ V could maybe go into trying to talk about this or that or another thing but the simplest answer was simply that he just didn't want to be alone, and he didn't trust himself to be alone right now. Regardless, it was clear that Alec had gotten enough of V's attention that he might be more inclined to answer some questions but pushing him too hard might make him withdraw entirely. ]

[flatly]

[Whatever judgment V thought might come his way just... doesn't. Alec blinks, blearily watching V's face journey as he really Goes Through It, but when the answer finally comes he simply offers a loose shrug like it hadn't taken basically everything out of V to confess just that much.] Okay. [Truthfully, he hasn't really examined his own motivations for staying instead of stomping back to be miserable in his own bed, but their reasoning would obviously be the same if he could muster up the brainpower to really, actually consider it.

Well, that and legs. Minor details.

Despite being as impaired as he is Alec can see the opening V leaves, and he is still curious, but even completely soused he's got enough pride that he doesn't bother to ask anything else. He's not about to keep sticking his fingers into a viper's nest when he's already been bitten—at least not for anyone he barely knows, who doesn't seem to like him much in the first place as far as he can tell. Except the way he looks, maybe.

He can deal with not being liked, of course. It's not like he was accidentally antagonistic during their first encounter. It's usually his goal to put distance between himself and literally anyone he meets, a buffer that he maybe doesn't actually need here like he did at home, but he clings to it out of habit anyway. So he's not actually moving, but:] I think... [Give him a second. He finally peels his eyes off of V and stares up at the ceiling, likely still full of asbestos (thanks, 1980s.) The stucco pattern is extremely disorienting, swimming around in itself any time he tries to focus.] I think I might be drunk. [... Yes, really.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ The single-word response that V received was almost worse than if Alec had just decided to get up and leave. V was too drunk to begin to process what exactly had just happened but he was at least certain that whatever the fuck that exchange just was he had failed it. Whatever relationship point they were at right now was the best it would get and V would not have to worry about it ever turning into anything more (and it would only go downhill from here). While he was drunk and in his feelings he was a little disappointed at the idea that this would go no further. He found himself late at night missing Kerry so much that he could be sick and maybe he was just searching for someone to fill that role and thought maybe he had found someone at least attractive enough for it (even though it was indeed a different kind of attractive) but with that surely gone V just realize the emptiness he felt.

V made a particular point to avoid Alec's gaze - the whole thing was very reminiscent of a dog who knew it had done something bad and was avoiding its owner's attention. He only dared to glance at Alec when he felt Alec's gaze pull off of him. When Alec proclaimed he was maybe (definitely) drunk (shit-faced) V didn't chuckle like he might have if Alec didn't completely derail things (it wasn't Alec's fault) but Alec was met with silence. He spent a few seconds regarding Alec before he copied him, leaning back against the bed. V was pretty sure this was an olive branch and he should take it, else he'd lose what was - at the very least - the hottest drinking buddy V'd ever had. ]

Yeah. Think I am too. [ A pause. ] Haven't felt this fucked up in a real long time.

[flatly]

I've never... [Alec gestures, a wobbly little circle with his hand, as though to say all of this.] Before. [He's been drunk before, but he's not really counting it because it was an altogether gentler experience with Magnus' magical liquor. The room hadn't lurched around him there in the warlock's loft like it's doing here now, it had drifted lazily to-and-fro, and it had glittered. They certainly hadn't been sitting on the hard floor with a scratchy carpet and the sounds of 80's punk tumbling around the room.

... Alright, maybe he should count it. Hmm.] Or, just once. [There, corrected.

Alec definitely remembers fleeing in the morning like he'd been burned. He also remembers hurt look on Magnus' face at his immediate (and kinda rude) no to joining him for breakfast, though he'd ignored it entirely at the time. Pointless guilt curdles in the pit of his belly and Alec sighs, reaching clumsily for the bottle again now that V isn't spitting mad, because clearly he refuses to learn his lesson. Hey, at least it doesn't taste bad anymore!

He cannot feel his face. That's probably fine. In the interest of sharing, since V is so hesitant to do so, Alec adds (in a self-depreciating scoff):] I don't get out much.

[bodyoftheseus]

[ V's brows rose in surprise as Alec admitted that he'd never been drunk - strike that, he'd only been drunk once. V started drinking over a decade ago and barring the two instances of waking up after being dead he couldn't actually recall the last time he had been sober. He'd always been at least buzzed and the evenings often ended a lot like this, albeit a lot more alone. His cyberware would help him with the drunkenness and keeping his balance and the like. He also was perfectly fine with passing out in his car, too.

He shifted his gaze to look down at Alec's clumsy attempt to grab the bottle. He handed the bottle to him, letting go only once he was sure Alec had the bottle. He was sluggishly coming to the realization that he probably should stop or slow Alec down on the hard liquor because he 'didn't get out much,' which V was sure meant that he didn't really drink all that much at all. His gaze returned to the ceiling.

You're, uh, hittin' the bottle a little hard though. Might be worth slowin' down a little bit. [ There was a hint of concern in the way V said it. It wasn't his responsibility to protect Alec or shield him from the incredibly tough lesson he was going to learn tomorrow (it was already too late anyway, if V were to be completely honest) but he wanted to at the very least say something. ] Nothin' wrong with not gettin' out. Just means you got more important shit to do with your life. [ Or, at least, didn't feel the need to constantly drown himself in liquor until he was numb. ]

[flatly]

[Alec lets out a huff that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Not that he would ever laugh. No, that would be absurd. He has a reputation to uphold!!] Oh, there's always some apocalypse going on. [He swirls the remaining liquid in the bottle, and then when he promptly feels like he might vomit after watching it move in dizzying circles too closely, he decides to take V's advice and hands it back. Yikes.] My Parabatai and my sister still found time to have fun. Somehow.

[Sorry, V, Alec squares his shoulders and sucks in a breath like he's clearly gearing up for a drunken rant. You know, in the interest of sharing, and definitely not just because he bottles up like his life depends on it and approximately 6 shots of tequila on 20 hours worth of an empty stomach tends to loosen the cork.] Oh wait, I know how. It's because I always cover for them. Then they treat me like I'm boring.

[Alright, so it's a short rant. He deflates a smidge and tacks on, defeated:] ... I am boring. [It's all the repression.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ The sound that was definitely not a laugh (because the two of them were very serious and never had any fun ever) was encouraging to V. It wasn't a lot of encouragement but the fact that Alec at least seemed willing to move on past his own little outburst. He wasn't someone who was particularly prone to anger but without his cyberware he'd maybe gotten a bit more drunk than he'd meant to and he might be a little sloppy right now. He took the bottle back from Alec and took a swig, then set it back down on the floor.

He was still working through what the hell it would mean for there always being some sort of apocalypse going on - that seemed like such a hyperbolic way to talk about your problems - but then he mentioned some strange word V had never heard before (must be slang? why the fuck was it so long?) and that distracted him as he tried to work through what the fuck that word could mean. (Parabatai? Para was beside, closely related, but he didn't know what the fuck batai meant - probably another language? Fuck he missed his auto-translate bullshit.)

Then his attention was pulled back to what Alec had been winding up into a seemingly large rant that actually was just a couple of sentences. ]

If you were boring you would've just told me to turn the music off'n gone back to your room. But takin' care'f your own, makin' sure they don't fuck around'n get in trouble, that don't make you boring. They just don't know how lucky they are havin' you watchin' their backs.

[ What's left of the cigarette was finally put out in the ashtray and V pushed it away from him with a concentrated effort before he fell back against the foot of the bed and let his head fall back again. ]

What's, uh. Para...ba...tai? That like slang for boyfriend'r somethin'?

[flatly]

[Alec glances over again, surprised by V's attempt to comfort him, but V is very busy with his cigarette. Gross. Please never mind that that his first instinct had just been to go back to his room.

In fact he almost, very inadvisably, confesses that he mostly stayed because he was so shocked that V was in his boxers, but luckily V's follow-up questions derail him entirely and save him from the next morning's embarrassment over that particular humiliating truth.

Because slang for—] No. [Okay, that came out a touch more miserably than Alec intended for it to, uhhh... moving right along.] There's no human bond that can compare. We tied our souls together. In battle, we are one. We share strength and instinct and emotions. [Wow, so that's a lot. Alec sniffs, and then suddenly reaches down to tug the corner of his tank top up over where the parabatai rune sits on his hip (not that he explains it. Listen.) The stark black lines of the rune are slightly muddied by a blue fist-sized bruise that splashes across the upper half of it.] He's supposed to go everywhere I go, but he's not here. [It seems we've tumbled ass over teakettle into the Sad Sack Drunk portion of the evening's festivities, so sorry V. This time when Alec slumps down further, his shoulder presses against V's.

Oh... apparently he's just slowly tipping over now. That's cool. He's not going to do anything to try and stop it, of course. Somehow even more miserably than before:] And he's straight. [PLEASE stop him from talking.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ V listened to Alec's explanation. He almost made a comment about how absolutely gay the whole parabatai thing sounded; he almost launched into a thing about Johnny, too - how the man literally lived inside his head for a few weeks and was so invasive that V didn't know peace until he dropped out of existence. His attention turned as Alec shifted to show off another one of his tattoos - runes, sorry - and it took V a shameful few seconds to realize what it was that Alec was showing him. Apparently, parabatai (parabatais?) also had matching tattoos like they were twinsies or something.

For just one fleeting moment the realization that Alec had described it as "no human bond" and that started to swirl around his head but then it was V's turn to be surprised as Alec slumped against him without seeming to immediately regret it. The way that Alec grew miserable and explained that his parabatai was straight made very clear to V that Alec was very much in love with him - whoever he was. It was most likely the alcohol, really, but Alec's lovelorn misery really softened something in V. V'd never pined for someone who was straight and had to deal with that but he certainly had his own struggles in his relationships. ]

That's rough. Bein' here, him bein' straight. I'm real sorry for that. That's the worst. [ V contemplated putting an arm around Alec but he worried that it would make Alec flighty. As much as he wanted to, he didn't. His gaze lowered and V started fiddling with his shirt again, tugging at a loose thread he'd just found during his anxious fidgeting. He could pull some of Alec's attention away from his own sad shit, though V didn't have anything happy to offer. ] My first boyfriend... His name was Gabriel. He was beautiful - like real beautiful - but... He, uh, wasn't a real nice guy. [ He wasn't sure where he was going with it, really. He was struggling to keep a single train of thought going. He had to take a moment to figure out what he was trying to say but he continued. ] Just because you work real good together doesn't mean it's a good match.

[flatly]

[It's clumsy, but another attempt at comfort that Alec wasn't really expecting and he can't help but feel a little too grateful for it in his inebriated state. It's just, it's nice to realize that he has finally stopped thinking about it—his crush on Jace—in terms of something horrible that needs to be fixed about himself and more... bad luck, maybe? Every new person who discovers his most guarded secret for the last decade hasn't condemned him for it against all odds, though V doesn't have any of the context for why he'd thought it was so bad, and that still helps.] Yeah. I— thanks. [He's mumbling, but he does sound a touch less miserable.

Then he watches V pick at his clothes, and has to fight his own urge to reach out, to try and stop V from pulling strings out of his own shirt. He'd do it for Jace or Izzy: step closer and hold onto their restless hands, wait patiently for them to look up at him and tell him what's wrong.

But he's pretty sure V would sock him in the nose if he tried that.

Truthfully, Jace isn't a nice guy either: the terrible way he was brought up wouldn't allow for it, and maybe Jace never really had it in him to be particularly kind in the first place (not a lot of Shadowhunters do. Angels are real assholes.) And Jace in particular is all sharp edges and bravado, adrenaline and rebellion, fun and frustration in one deeply annoyingly hot bundle, but Alec gets the feeling that V means it in a different way for Gabriel. Except the hot part, clearly.] You... broke up? [He ventures, deciding that since V brought it up himself he's probably not going to get mad about talking about it, and he goes to drop the corner of his tanktop back down only to find it... sticky against his skin.] Oh, shit. [Alec jerks himself back upright, then tugs his shirt much farther up to reveal the absolute mess he'd made of his nicely bandaged stab wound through the last 20 hours. At some point it had apparently started sluggishly bleeding again, a trail of red around his side where the fabric smears it from a point on his back almost directly opposite the Parabatai rune. The gauze is rumpled and pink all over, courtesy of the careless shower he'd taken with it on, but dark red at the center and trailing out to the bottom corner. Alec hadn't even felt it reopen: thank you, booze.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ If V knew that Alec wished to try to still his nervous hands he might beg for it. Some part of him that wasn't entirely soaked in alcohol knew that he'd ruined things but he craved any form of affection. He hadn't realized it but he was starting to gently lean into Alec in response to Alec leaning on him. He sighed at the question and let his cheek rest on top of Alec's head. ]

Uh, breakin' up's one--

[ Alec suddenly jerking up knocks V's head to the side and he had to throw a hand out to catch himself before he fell over. It took him a moment to get his bearings as he felt the world spin and his head swirl. It just about made his stomach lose itself but waiting an extra moment to let everything settle down was what he needed before his attention turned to Alec. It was a good thing V wasn't squeamish in any capacity. All it did was put him into this mode where he wanted to take care of it. Maybe he and Alec weren't on the best of terms but it wasn't V's nature to let Alec have to deal with something like this on his own. Without Alec even prompting V started to look gently pushing on Alec to get a better look. He peeled up the gauze to look at the wound and assess it, then sort of put it back into place. It was clear he wasn't going to be taking no for an answer on this. ]

Really pissed someone off, didn't you?

[ V leaned forward and finally pulled his shirt back on, then carefully stood. He stumbled his way into the bathroom, then came back with a small first aid kit. V sat down (heavily) next to Alec again, pulling out some fresh gauze and everything he needed to redress the wound. ]

But, uh, fuck. [ He was a little clumsy, yes, but he was gentle as he removed the old dressing and started cleaning the wound. He was trying to recall what he had been saying. It took him a second to remember it was Gabe. ] Uh, yeah, we broke up. Gabe tried to hurt me, so I hurt him. Made sure he couldn't hurt anyone else. [ He carefully re-dressed the wound. It wasn't perfect but even as good as it was perhaps spoke to how often V had done this. ]

[flatly]

[Alec shifts to face away so V can see what he's working with better, cheek now pressed against the foot of his lumpy hotel bed. He'll never admit to it, but he'd greatly preferred the shoulder: harder maybe, but warmer.

Either way, where before curiosity (paranoia) might have made him crane his neck to watch what V was doing, right now Alec thinks he might lose the plot—and his (lack of) lunch—entirely if he tried to twist and stare down at himself from that weird angle. He settles for huffing out an indignant noise instead.] The demon did. [He jabs a finger at his own side this time to indicate the stab wound, just barely avoiding getting in V's way as he sticks some new gauze on. Being drunk has done approximately nothing for Alec's motor skills... or for him being able to remember that he's holding his shirt up and out of the way. He promptly tugs it away from where V is trying to work again, yanking it up past most of the Calm Anger rune that he clearly should use more than he does.] That drove it out. So really, they did me a favor. [That's one way of looking at it. It probably says something about Alec's priorities that he views it that way, but that's an existential crisis for some other day.

Now is apparently the time for various other crises. Alec tries to imagine being able to date someone, and then not treating them well. He's spent so long enviously watching everyone else feel free enough to fall in love that just the thought is repellant. He swallows, trying not to squirm.]

Oh. [Turns out that being drunk has also not done much for his eloquence. Alec's eyes drift closed, and he tries to figure out how to say something helpful but he just ends up with an emphatic:] Good. [Because fuck that guy, apparently. And, you know, when a threat needs to get cut off at the knees you might as well take care of it yourself. That's the Shadowhunter way (for better or worse), anyway.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ There was that word again: demon. Alec spoke as if demons were a real thing, and it kept coming up. V's head was still swimming so he wasn't really piecing together the whole magic runes bullshit and demons together. He had a response forming in his mind, but he was too focused on the task he was on to remember to actually open his mouth and say it.

The way that Alec drunkenly jabbed a finger at his side and almost got in the way of his work made V smile a little. The complete inability of Alec to hold his alcohol was probably one of the cutest things that V had seen in quite some time. Everyone back home that he spent time with was just as hardened a drinker as he was. He was momentarily distracted by Alec pulling his shirt up - so much so that for a moment that he stopped what he was doing just to take him in before hurriedly continuing. His smile faded as he vaguely (leaving out literally all context and details) explained Gabe. ]

I... Wish it didn't have to end that way, [ was all he managed to get out. It was clear that V still held a lot of grief with regards to this though it was maybe hard to tell if it was over him hurting Gabe or at whatever betrayal Gabe committed against him. V finished with the wound and hesitated a moment, then reached over and gently traced over the calm anger rune with his fingers. V knew what his sad, lonely, drunk self wanted, and he knew that he should absolutely not do it. So he pulled away from Alec and packed the first aid kit up and slid it away, leaning heavily against the foot of the bed back in his original position with a sigh. ]

So... Demons? Fire and brimstone living in Hell demons? [ V huffed in what was suspiciously close to a chuckle, smiling a little. ] This gonna end up some cheesy angel pickup line?

[flatly]

[This time the goosebumps that prickle up against Alec's skin in the wake of V's touch are accompanied by a hitch in his breath, both because he hadn't seen it coming and because it yanks him out of overthinking about V's tone and the subject matter. It feels strangely intimate: Jace drew the majority of his runes (as Parabatai traditionally do for one another), but even at their most sickeningly codependent when their bond was still brand new and so overwhelming, it was always a utilitarian act of preparation. And, you know, burning. Unpleasant to place and to activate. Either way, the battle itself was where all of the intimacy really took place, which is about right for a society as fucked up as theirs: it was in the shared heartbeat, instincts, pain and adrenaline and a thousand other things Alec could never really hope to explain before or after finally coming out of the closet.

But here, now, there's no reason for V to touch any of the black lines on Alec's skin, certainly not to trace their shape, and somehow that makes all the difference in how it feels to him. But by the time Alec manages to peel his face back out of V's sheets to turn and look at him, V is back in his previous spot.

And asking very embarrassing questions. He'll get to the demon thing in a second, but right now:] What? We don't have cheesy pickup lines. [That is admittedly because most Shadowhunters would never hit on anyone outside of their group, so angel-related come ons would be totally pointless.

He is very deeply in denial about the fact that Jace absolutely has used some truly heinous ones in his hearing, but Jace could have said the smoothest thing in the world to a woman and Alec would still hate it with his whole being. And anyway, he used to mostly try to escape any given situation before the flirting truly began, just so he wouldn't start biting heads off in a jealous snit and make himself look suspicious (more suspicious. Shh.)] Yeah, demons. Didn't you wonder why my eyes were black? [Alec threw a knife at the man, he probably didn't have time to ask many questions. But that's a minor detail, clearly.]

[bodyoftheseus]

[ V's little smile faded as he considered Alec's first response. He didn't deny that he was an angel - he definitely picked up on that - but it wasn't quite hitting him just what that meant. There was more and more mounting evidence that either Alec was absolutely delusion and that V should run, or Alec was being completely and entirely honest with him and he really did come from a world where he had magic power burn scars and demons and he was an angel. Which, being honest, being an angel would certainly explain why he was pretty, and maybe why he was a bit of an ass. V'd always thought that the religious types were a bit pretentious.

He didn't manage to get his response before Alec continued on to confirm that he was talking about actual literal Hell-dwelling demons, the kind the priests warned V about when he was a kid. The question about his eyes made V snort. Unbelievable: the guy was asking if V'd bothered to pay attention to the color of his eyes while his body was being puppeted by a demon that threw a knife at him and then tried to beat the ever-living shit out of him. As he considered this, his snort turned into giggling. It was just so fucking absurd! He collected himself enough to stifle his giggles, and his head swung to the side so that he could look at Alec. ]

So... You didn't deny bein' an angel. That mean you're gonna be my angel? [ If Alec wasn't going to make the incredibly contrived pickup line, V would. Whatever reaction that got out of Alec made V giggle more, though it was clear he was trying to stifle them (it wasn't working very well). ] Next time your body's being driven by a demon I'll be sure to pull you in real close'n gaze real deep in your eyes. But, uh, that shouldn't happen again, right? On account'f you bein' my angel?

[ V was trying so very hard to keep a straight face and be serious but he was far too drunk to possibly keep himself contained. ]