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[charmpagne]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** Sparkling has joined 018.07.154.55 <Sparkling>Hello there! You have reached the inbox of Sparkling Cookie. Unfortunately, I am currently unavailable, but if you leave a message I'll make sure to get back to you real soon!

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sometime in the middle of the march

[pinballs]

[The unknown fate of Sparkling following their mortifying encounter has not rested well on the lieutenant's thoughts. After the fallout of his...incident, he had gone through a thorough shutdown for a few days before eventually returning to what he would consider 'normal' functionality. Except, now, he has a new unfortunate knot in his brain, one that constantly reminds him of the morbid task ahead of him. Feed, or succumb to madness. Hurt, or risk hurting more.

The memories of that night return slowly to him. He replaces the shirt he tore and carefully covers the neck wound with gauze and medical tape. He tries to forget the sight of those mangled fingers on the ground, of Sparkling cowering away from him, his eyes wide with fear. He can't forget the rage and bloodlust he felt roaring in his ears, urging him ever forward until his prey was finally nothing more than flesh, blood, and bone.

He needs to make sure the man is okay. Likely not mentally--he wouldn't expect anyone to recover from a horrific encounter like that, especially not an average citizen. Even if Sparkling doesn't speak to him, Kim will be reassured to see if he's returned to some sort of routine.

The first time they spoke, Sparkling had mentioned that he worked at a casino called the Lucky 38. It is here, on the gambling floor, that Kim finds himself watching Sparkling from afar. The noise of the network drones away in the back of his mind. He focuses on anything else. It's gotten easier to contain as time has gone on--after all, the way he compartmentalizes it away is not unlike the manner in which he deals with his own native thoughts.

He stands at a distance away from the bar as to not disturb Sparkling or be viewed as an immediate threat. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back, though his stance as a whole is rather lax. He's eyeing the vampire, trying to determine his demeanor. Though the crowd around him may drink and gamble, Kim engages in neither of these vices.

His eyes keep being drawn to the bandaged hand.]

cw: brief drug mention

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling really shouldn't be working at all. He'd only recently been feeling bouts of some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life, and if it weren't for some strong medication and the advent of some even stronger drugs, he'd likely still be in bed unable to move right now. Of course he knows better than to come into work blitzed out of his mind, so the best he can do is let the normal painkillers get him through his work shift in the hopes that by the time it all wore off he'd be able to just take something stronger and go straight to bed. It had been working so far, anyway...

But that didn't change the fact that he was still changing. Slowly, but changing nevertheless. His hands by now barely resembled that of a human's, with three out of five fingers having grown over double their length, a thin yellow membrane connecting them inbetween. He was losing dexterity in those fingers by the day, to the point where he found it easier to just do his work with his thumb and index finger on each hand. That worked out well enough, seeing as his right hand only had those fingers, and what parts of the membrane that did grow in were appearing all tattered and ripped.

Sparkling wishes he didn't remember as much about the attack as he did, but it seemed that losing the memories of it would be too much of a kindness. No, he could remember in great detail how he'd attacked someone he'd had only passing familiarity with- friendly though it was- and how that had ended with his paying the price for allowing the hunger to consume him. He knows without a doubt that if Kim hadn't fled the scene when he did, he very well could have devoured him then and there. Things could have been so much worse, but somehow he got off with a warning and a reminder. A reminder that he wouldn't be soon forgetting, even if people kept telling him the Fog would heal him.

What if She chose not to? Would she punish him for resisting the siren song, for holding back when he could have embraced it and come out all the stronger?

He doesn't notice Kim standing among the crowd at first, too focused on his work as he is. He moves from one side of the bar to the other, serving patrons as quickly as he's able without running the risk of dropping more glasses than he already had in the last so many days. Usually, working brings him a brief respite from everything, but he's just...his heart isn't as in it this week and he knows it. He hopes things will improve with time, but there's no way of knowing for sure. Maybe...

Sparkling isn't sure what finally clues him in to being watched. Maybe it's just a sense, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that he's realizing that he can hear Kim's faster than normal heartbeat as it thrums in his ears, exciting that hunting instinct and stimulating his palate whether he likes it or not. He can think of a few reasons why someone might be that worked up at a casino (or a bar besides), but even when confirming it's something else entirely he still has trouble processing what he's seeing.

It's Kim. He's here, just...here, at his workplace. Watching him. Sparkling isn't so judgemental as to assume the monster intends to come back to finish what he'd started, but he still can't fully understand why he'd come to him after everything. What does he plan to do? It isn't as if Sparkling can approach him while on the clock, and he isn't going to call across the floor to him either.

Ah. His hands have begun to shake slightly, claws tapping a nervous staccato against the glass he was cleaning, but he's able to smooth that over relatively quickly. At least here, he knows that Mukuro isn't going to put up with any bullshit. If she sees something breaking out, she'll intervene. He doesn't have to feel like he's in any real danger, here. But still...

He fixes Kim with his gaze, trying to impart to the Troll that he has 100% been noticed, red eyes hard to miss even at a distance. He says nothing, does nothing, just looks back for a long moment or two before he turns back to the people at his bar. There's no outward invitation, but neither is there a call for security.]

After the network blowup

[humblecowboy]

[There are times when one doesn't have to ask if someone is okay; it's easy to know that they aren't. Atem's shadow game being televised as it was hasn't been the hardest thing for Spike and Vicious to stomach; in Spike's eyes, it isn't even cruel.

But they both know a cookie is just a cookie, and a cookie can't be having a great time of it.

So while Vicious is hitting up his plug for some goods and bringing back beer, Spike works on their entry, showing up at Sparkling's door unannounced and giving just a simple knock before yelling;]

Special delivery!

[pinballs]

[That's confirmation enough that he's alright to approach. Slowly, as if not to startle Sparkling, Kim begins striding towards the bar, glasses glimmering in the casino lighting. Seems as though he found them, and got them repaired. He squeezes his way past a crowd of humans, chattering and gossiping about the people and dealers on the gambling floor, and eventually finds himself a few feet away from the vampire.

He does not sit at the bar. He stands stiffly, his hands folded behind his back, like a police officer on duty. He inclines his head towards Sparkling, careful not to make eye contact. He doesn't want to force the man into an uncomfortable position--although, to be frank, the current situation is uncomfortable enough as is. As he speaks, his voice is clipped, getting straight to the point.]

Good evening. [He instinctively wants to say "Mr. Sparkling", but that sounds odd. He doesn't actually know this man's last name, and it risks coming off as too formal. As if he needs any help right now, with his current posture.] I came here to make sure you were healing well, and...to apologize for my behavior last week.

[It's a rather stark way to go about it, and he is downplaying it a little bit, but it is, in part, to avoid frightening the other customers at the bar. Kim pauses, pushing his glasses up. He had considered bringing a gift, perhaps to tide things over, but he feared that it may come off as too patronizing. Honest words are the way to go.]

I assure you, whatever I had done was not out of personal malice towards you. [...] Although...there is little that can repair your fingers, after the fact.

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling had pretty much decided to just try to take it easy, this evening. He has...a lot to think about just now, and while he's taken the time to talk to a few, it doesn't change the fact that he's going to have to decide where he stands on what has been made a very public issue.

And, like. He knows at least that much. To say he was horrified by what he witnessed would be understating it, but that makes his feelings on the people who enacted it even more complicated. Just when he feels like he's dragging himself from beneath the mire of one issue, another drops itself into his lap. Then he feels bad about making this about himself, and the cycle continues...

So when a sudden knock heralds a visitor, Sparkling actually jumps before rising to his feet, looking over in time to hear a (thankfully) familiar voice calling out for him.]

Cowboy?

[It's relief that floods him as he makes his way to the door, taking a bit too long to get it open as he fights to work out a way to grip it without the membranes between his fingers getting in the way. He eventually manages it, stepping back so there's room for Spike to enter.]

Wh- What are you doing here?

[humblecowboy]

What am I doing here?

[Spike doesn't waste any time walking in as if he's been invited, his drifty, dreamy pace languid as he spins on his heel to face Sparkling again once inside, opening his arms questioningly.]

What, V didn't tell you? We're parting tonight. You, me, and he.

I can't believe he didn't tell you.

[No one was supposed to say anything. There was no invitation. He is being An Asshole.]

[charmpagne]

We're partying.

[That's said flatly, but there's no aggression or irritation present. He's way too mentally worn thin for that, and like...he didn't even want to be alone today, circumstances just kindof happen that he lives alone and leaving the apartment right now feels, uh.

Dangerous.]

I don't see "V" with you...

[He has to wonder if Vicious actually does know about this, but ah well. He'll walk over to pull the door shut for now with his heel, quipping over his shoulder in spite of himself-]

That said, you look nice.

[Said with a nod in Spike's direction, indicating the green that's begun to spread across his skin. No idea what that could be hinting to, but Sparkling is thankful to see that Spike's changes seem minimal and not quite so painful so far.]

[humblecowboy]

[Spike grins just a little, turning back around and heading deeper into the apartment as if it is his own. Oddly enough, it seems like a vine is... trailing out of his shirt?? And wrapped around his leg.]

He's picking up the party supplies.

[He turns his head to look at Sparkling over his shoulder, though, head tilted up, preening.]

I look like a couple of prosexuals got to me with glitter and makeup brush, but I appreciate the sentiment.

[He's not... entirely wrong, though the green on his face only looks shimmery as a result of light refraction at the moment as his skin slowly turns to something more full of chlorophyll.]

[charmpagne]

[There's a moment where Sparkling's nose wrinkles, because he clearly has no idea what the fuck Spike is talking about, but that's easily brushed aside when he notices the vine growing from him. Okay, that's...immediately pointing to a very specific type of monster in particular, coupled with the green that's begun to appear. It's if and when Spike's hair turns to leaves that he'll really feel those familiar pangs, though.

He moves back into the room, finding a chair to sit back down in since it seems like Spike (and presumably Vicious) are here to stay.]

Well, I only wish I'd known. I would have cleaned up a little around here.

[The apartment is...near immaculate, so that's probably laughable for him to say. It's not as it should be in Sparkling's opinion though, some of the tasks he usually does having fallen to the wayside due to his changes disrupting things.]

Um...can I get you anything? A drink?

[Well, he'll just own it. Settle into what he's used to, instead of dwelling on...everything else.]

[humblecowboy]

You work even on your days off, huh?


[Spike invites himself to Sparkling's couch, his hair bouncing as he flops down— no leaves to speak of, but it does look like he was rolling around in grass...

He gestures for Sparkling to join him, protesting;]

Vicious is bringing the drinks. Take the night off for once, why don't ya.

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling can't truly flush since he's dead, but he still feels that brief wash of embarrassment when Spike points out what he's doing. He'd argue it's less working and more just being a good host, but...fine. He'll concede, making his way over to sit with his arms resting carefully in his lap.]

Well...if you insist.

[...god. It's uncomfortably quiet in the apartment. Usually he'd have the radio or TV turned on, but if Spike chances a glance around, he'll realize that not only are both off, but they've been unplugged entirely from the wall.]

I ahh...I hope you've been doing well. It feels like the only time I get a chance to see you is during work.

[humblecowboy]

[Spike does notice— it doesn't surprise him, though. A cookie can't be made for that kind of butchery. It's why he's here, anyway.]

That's true. I'm not—

[Somehow, Spike seems... Awkward, for a moment, gesturing vaguely to the air when he says—]

I don't really... Hang out. Outside of work.

This is a special case.

[charmpagne]

[It's such a contrast to see Kim as he is right now, perfectly composed and calm, compared to how things were the day the Fog rolled in and the rain began in earnest. Not that Sparkling can judge, not when he completely lost himself to the point where he would have drained the Troll if given half the opportunity to do so. Circumstances being what they were, it just didn't happen to shake out that way. Sparkling got the short end of the stick through sheer dumb luck and Kim naturally being physically stronger as a Troll, yet...logical understanding isn't enough sometimes to quell the nerves. It's only due to experience that Sparkling is able to keep his expression level, listening to Kim as he addresses him from the other side of the bar.

The apology is both surprising as much as it isn't. It's welcome, yet it feels...bad, somehow. Sparkling pushes his rag deep into the glass he's propped up on the counter, though it seems that he's ambidextrous enough that sticking to using one hand hasn't hampered him too much. For now, anyway.

It seems at first like he may not answer, but it's really that he's trying to think of the best way to respond. He's not sure if it's easier or harder, being in the midst of the busy casino floor.]

I appreciate the apology.

[He finally starts, which feels like as good of a place to begin as any.]

I have to....apologize as well, for my own behavior. It would be remiss of me not to. I had assumed I would be above letting something like that happen, and yet...here we are.

[He assumed he was stronger willed than he actually is, and he paid the price for it. It's still a little alarming to think he'd lost his control that quickly, though...he has to imagine it was because he'd so recently died. His body was starved upon waking, and he hasn't felt a level of hunger that intense since.

Sparkling knows he has to be careful what he says, so he takes another moment to think of how he can continue without letting it be known to his human patrons what exactly they're talking about.]

I started it. That's a fact, and I am ashamed to have lost control. ...I only wish things hadn't gone as far as they did.

[Because yeah, he is sore about the injury. He knows it will heal thanks to the Fog, but he's not sure he'll ever forget what that felt like, or be able to erase the memory from his mind. It doesn't matter then who's fault it was, just that it happened at all.]

...I hope you are healing alright as well, sir.

[charmpagne]

[This is a special case. If Sparkling was wondering about this before, well...he isn't now.

He glances away, looking at the floor between his shoes for a moment.]

I see. Well...special or no, it's not unwanted. I wasn't planning on leaving my place for the night anyway.

[humblecowboy]

Yeah. I figured.

[He doesn't know what it's like to be a cookie, and there's no part of him that considers Sparkling a child.

But he's not from the same world Spike is from. It makes sense to Spike that it would be much harder for a cookie to digest, and... well, at least his own method of feeding had been much cleaner.

Nevertheless, Spike still rubs the veins between his fingers.]

Rough day, huh?

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling gives a sort of noncommital sound of acknowledgement at first, folding his good hand over his knee. The other continues to rest half curled in his lap as he idly taps the other two claws together, huffing under his breath.]

Well, I was having a just fine day...until some folks decided we needed to be treated to a special broadcast.

[humblecowboy]

Mmm. Yeah.

You didn't watch it though, did you?

[Spike leans back again, feeling around in his jacket pocket— jackets, ugh, he's never had to wear actually warm jackets so much before coming here, gross— for something, and adds;]

I didn't think you would.

[charmpagne]

...I did.

[Then, before Spike can interject:]

Not all of it. I stopped watching when...Mukuro appeared.

[He brings his knees together before leaning back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling.]

Perhaps I should have avoided it entirely.

[humblecowboy]

Well.

[Spike pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering;]

You smoke in here? I can open a window.

You look like you need it.

[. . . A change of subject? But why so quick? It's not like he's going to lay down an uncomfortable truth or something—]

[charmpagne]

[Why so quick indeed?

...does Sparkling mind it, though? Heeell no.

He hardly hesitates, reaching for and taking one of the cigarettes from the pack.]

By all means.

[humblecowboy]

Cool.

[He puts a cigarette in his own mouth, puts the pack away, and moves to light Sparkling Cookie's. When the other leans closer for the light, Spike starts;]

Y'know, we don't have to talk about this all night, but...

There's a high likelihood you're gonna have to see more stuff like that. The killing, the... cruelty of mankind, the—

[Spike twists his wrist in a vague gesture.]

Supernatural gang war?

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling is patient, waiting for his cig to be lit before he leans back, remembering the way JW showed him to smoke. And since he doesn't have to breathe and knows what to expect, this time, he's able to just...take a drag and potentially hold it infinitely. He's not going to do that, because he's pretty sure that might be detrimental to his body even if he could handle it, but he does just hold the smoke in his lungs for the entire time Spike is talking before he exhales heavily, holding the cigarette carefully between the claws of his good hand.]

Mm. I figured as much.

[Even those not involved are roped into it by proxy. By existing.]

I'm not sure what I was thinking, really. This world is one where we are expected to kill people, regularly. It...it's not like this should be that unusual.

[Now he knows the situation is different, it was shocking and it was intended to be that way, but...maybe he'd started to hope that things wouldn't be as bad as they seemed. That, maybe, if he was careful...he could avoid the worst of what this world had to offer.]

[humblecowboy]

Don't beat yourself up.

You didn't know what you were getting into.

Hell of a crash course, I imagine, but. You didn't know.

[He lights his own cigarette, taking a drag like a pro, and relaxing with the breath.]

You've gotta learn, but you didn't know.

[charmpagne]

[Sparkling gives a slight shrug at that, smiling sidelong at Spike.]

Now I know.

[And that's all he says for a moment, taking another drag.

Then, apropos of nothing:]

My world is in the midst of a crisis. Have I ever told you that?

[goodolfashionedvillain]

[The front door swings open suddenly, revealing a frazzled and frowny Vicious who floats over the threshold with a case of beer under each arm. One might question how he was able to get the door open with his arms that full, but the door closing behind him just as abruptly should answer that question pretty quick. Looks like these little meditation classes with Maya are really paying off. He still has to sacrifice some tangibility to stay solid in other places, but it's an easy enough price to pay when you don't necessarily need your feet.]

Sorry to barge in. I would've knocked, but--

[He shrugs, indicating the cases, before drifting over to the kitchen to set them down. Once he does, the shade begins to do revert back into a more tangible form, the cloud of billowing darkness below his knees re-solidifies into the proper shape of his legs.]

Christ, quiet as a wake in here.