Ew.

[h_hollister]

The joys of being in Los Angeles without your own method of transportation. Huzzah.

Since she was so new to Los Angeles, Hippolyta had taken to wandering around the city via bus, just going nowhere in particular, trying to learn and remember where everything was. She had a sinking feeling that she'd be there for a long while to come.

Los Angeles was both breathtakingly beautiful and heart-wrenchingly ugly. Sometimes in the same smegging block. What a weird town.

In her wanderings, she'd ended up in Hollywood. She saw the Chinese Theater from the wrong side of a grimy window. The stars on the sidewalks ticked past as the bus lumbered through the crowded streets. Palm trees drooped in the afternoon sun, sheltering the interesting street people under them. Droopy droopy sick trees.

Matched her mood.

The notion that she'd be seeing Wade shortly did nothing to improve said mood.

The bus squealed to a stop, letting off a stream of people, letting on a trickle. In that trickle, something she noticed subconsciously prodded her to pay attention, and she blinked. Did a double take.

She could have sworn...

As the bus started up again, she stared as a slender young man took a seat a few rows ahead of her, her view partially blocked by a fat man standing in the way. The boy's head was down, he had earphones on. He was obviously ignoring everything around him. She kept staring, craning her neck around her fat friend, not entirely sure if she was right... Then, suddenly, the boy lifted his head, turned so she could see his profile. Her subconscious had been right.

Jean-Paul.

Bloody hell.

Her heart started pounding in her chest. Did she want to see him? Did she want him to know she was here? What the hell was he doing in LA? And why the hell did he look so damn pale? Had he seen her, too? Would he try to avoid her?

To hell with it. Friend. Friend good. Need friend.

As the bus pulled into yet another stop, she stood up and moved as quickly as she could to an empty seat across from him. If he'd seen her, he gave no outward sign. She reached a hand across the aisle and touched his sleeve.

"JP?"

Comments

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Heh. With smiley faces in whipped cream, it sounds like exactly the kind of place Tee would enjoy. You know, I don't think I've ever seen anybody eat that many donuts before."

Oh, JP. Please, tell me you don't have what I think you have. Let me be drawing some insane conclusion, like I always do.

She's perched on the edge of her seat, totally unbalanced. When the bus lurches, she falls forward a bit, her hand slapping out to the aisle floor in front of her to check her fall. It scrapes up good, the top layer of skin opened up, oozing blood from tiny wounds in her palm.

She hisses through her teeth as she straightens up. "Smegging hell." She glances at it for a second, and, sure enough, the blood is already starting to vanish. She clenches her hand into a fist and smiles at JP. "I really hate these buses, I really do."

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

He flinches almost imperceptibly at the sight of blood. That's been an automatic reaction ever since he came to the Nexus, after knowing he was positive--for a long time he was terrified of anyone finding out. (For good reason. The first guy he actually told freaked out and stopped talking to him.) Then the fucking duck hallucinations came and he admitted it on Sages (although very few people saw that) and they stopped. And while he's not exactly hiding it like he used to, he's also not really inclined to jump up and give a musical number (http://gorillamask.net/famguyaids.shtml) about his HIV status.

"You okay?" He plays it off like his reaction was just sympathy to her getting hurt.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Yup." Did JP know about the nanos? Had she told him? Hrm. Well, Greg and Dawnie had seen her get shot in the thigh with a crossbow bolt, so they knew... But that didn't mean that they blabbed about it all over.

God, she barely knew her friends at all.

That feeling of lonliness reinforced itself by about one hundred percent, and she settled back in her seat, frowning a bit.

"You want to go grab a bite, JP? I'm starving, now that we're talkin' pancakes. My treat." A weak smile. "C'mon, lemme treat ya." Her voice lowers considerably. "I'm still set for cash. I've got about eight grand to my name right now, so I can squeeze in some pancakes in my budget."

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

He hesitates obviously. Jean-Paul pretty notoriously hates letting people pay for him; he feels like he always has to do everything by himself, like letting people take care of him is compromising his independence. (He'd know, if he actually talked sometime to his alternate, that they're very similar that way.) It's irrational and stupid and he knows it is, but he can't stop thinking that way anyways. A lot of this is reflected in his face.

"Uhm."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She sees that hesitation, and gets a glimmer as to why. Bloody stubborn boy. She's the only one allowed to be stubborn around here, damn it all.

"C'mon. Pancakes. And possibly waffles. And squirting each other with the creamers. Have you ever done the ol' 'fork in the eyeball' trick? Get a creamer in your fist, hold it up to your face, and then stab it with a fork. All this white goo comes out and makes people snort coffee up their noses. It's grand fun. Lister used to do it all the smegging time. Put Rimmer right off his food, it did."

Huh. She just mentioned Rimmer without turning into Weepy Willow and her Phalanx of Kleenex. Cool.

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

He eyedarts, looking from side to side.

"We'll split it." The bill, he means. He's really, really not willing to let other people pay for him and, well, he's Jean-fucking-Paul, he's about the most stubborn, mule-headed boy in the world. On the other hand--he's hungry, like he always is, and he's really got nothing better to do. All his non-Nexus friends are whores, hustlers, and dealers.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"...Okay." She had absolutely no intention of letting him pay for even half, though. She may not have much right now, but she knows she has more than he does. But, if agreeing to let him split it gets him fed and happy for a bit, that's what's important

Oh, JP, what am I gonna do with you?

"So where is this Pancake Heaven? Lead the way."

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"It's in a few stops--I used to live, like, two blocks over. Always thought of pulling a Sands and shooting the cook, but... How does that even begin to make sense, anyway?"

He leans back a little and looks out the window. It occurs to him now that if he goes with Hippolyta, that means his drug hit is postponed.

Well... crap. Maybe he can slip off to the bathroom for a few.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"I dunnow, who the heck is Sands?"

She continues studying the boy, trying to keep the concern for him off her face. Her 'crazy protective' is kicking in again. She pushes it down. Last time she got all nuts protective, she ended up alienating her best friend.

"Well, when we get to the right stop, say the word, JP." She too leans back, turns away from him for a second, so she can bite her lip and inspect her palm. Damn buses.

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"He's from this movie called Once Upon a Time in Mexico. He hangs out in Trans a lot, whatever. Anyway he had this thing where he'd go around to all these restaurants and order the same thing, and when he finally found the one that was the best, he'd shoot the cook. Something about restoring balance to the country. I STILL don't get the logic behind this."

Jean-Paul looks... pretty normal; the sickness is subtle, only makes it look like he's trying a little too hard to be normal. Hippolyta wouldn't be able to tell, from looking at him, that he's exhausted and cranky all the time and the first thing he does upon waking up in the morning is vomit.

Unless she has MAD PSYCHIC POWERS he doesn't know about.

Does she? He's starting to worry.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Never saw it. Never visit Trans, either. Not my bag. I'm more of a 'doofball comedy' gal than a 'horrorshow' gal. Because I'm wild and crazy. Picture me with an arrow through my head when I say that."

Nah, she's not psychic, just really good at reading people. And, ya know, crazy overprotective and likes jumping to conclusions. She has the mat and everything back home.

"You talk to Key or Greg recently?"

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"Trans isn't that bad. I go there for the free booze and food that surprisingly has only been poisoned, like, once. Key thinks stepping inside is going to get you attacked by vampire werewolf demon succubi from Hell." He shrugs.

"Ummm. Jesus, I can't remember when the last time I was in Basement was... why?"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Eh. Just wondering. Making silly small talk. Since I bolted, I haven't visited the Basement either. I'm none too good at keeping up with my friends, sometimes."

The bus grinds to another halt, and more people get on and off.

"This stop? Or the next one, love?"

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

He looks. "Yeah, this one." He gets up and scoots around the other people, making sure Hippolyta is following him. It's bright outside but he doesn't squint. "S'this way." He wanders off down a street in a rather seedy part of the city, nonchalantly.

"So what've you been doing lately, anyway? Aside from the hidey."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Walking through this seedy neighborhood, her instincts kick in, and she tenses, ready for a fight. She hasn't been in a neighborhood like this since that one shore leave on Mimas several years back. Smeg.

"Not much. Wandered out to the Santa Monica pier a couple days ago. Trying to learn where everything is in this godforsaken hole. Working damn hard on keeping my temper with Tee. Man doesn't know shit from shinola, and sometimes he pushes my buttons. Still like him, though."

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"Yeah? Shit, I just know where I need to go and spend the rest of my time in Nexus. That's more interesting. Around here, it's just people smashing cars into each other and eating lead. Boring." He pauses. "Not that the Nexus's been any better, really."

In a couple blocks there's a run-down looking diner. It's not much to look at, but Jean-Paul seems to like it. The bells on the door make a tinkling noise when it opens.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Wow. This isn't just a greasy spoon. This is a greasy spoon, fork, knife and waitress.

Approval.

"I hear ya about the Nexus. I'm... trying to avoid it." Because Wade's off wallowing in his angsty past and not telling me jack shit.

There's nobody up front, so she just shrugs and slips into one of the sticky booths, making damn sure she's facing the door.

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes it gets kinda overwhelming. Overwhelming and RETARDED." He sort of flops into the seat, not seeming to care about the disgustingness. Well, he is Jean-Paul, King of the Gross.

"The food is a lot better than the decor." He grins, waiting for one of the waitresses to notice them and come out of hiding.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Seriously. This shit is bananas. How many blinking signs do you think we need before the whole 'oh noes where am I question mark exclaimation point exclaimation point eleventy one!' trend stops?"

She's trying to figure out a way to slip him some cash. Some excuse that'll make him happy to take it. Hm.

[lust-for-life.livejournal.com]

"I KNOW. God. It's not like there aren't a million signs around explaining exactly where you are. Maybe someone should put up an illustrated one. It's like nobody goes there on PURPOSE anymore." He rolls his eyes expressively.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"There are still a few that do," she smiles, thinking of Nick Fury and his hilarious domestic woes.

"So, what sort of funny dances do we have to do to get service around here?"