♻ 002 | spam

[tucky]

[After a few days, Tiffany checks herself out of the infirmary. They were willing to let her go-- except for her teeth, she's mostly healed up; even her bruises are gone-- and she was starting to feel stir crazy, so out she went.

Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.

Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.

Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.

At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]

[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]

Comments

[americasdirtiest]

Whatever.

[He's not going to press the way that Simon some people do. If she wants to figure it out on her own, that's fine with him -- this is pretty much the extent of his making an effort. He glances at the two sandwiches again, then looks up at the door, and finally pulls out his communicator again and frowns down at it, muttering under his breath.]

[tucky]

What?

[She's unsure if the muttering is directed at her or not.]

[americasdirtiest]

What what? I'm saving it for somebody.

[tucky]

Nothing.

You can just get food whenever you want here?

[americasdirtiest]

[He shifts a little, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He takes it as a question -- why is he sitting here with two uneaten plates if he can just grab it whenever?]

Yeah. Pretty much. I just got, like, a date coming. Or... whatever. [Because he's not sure it really counts as a date when they already live together.]

[tucky]

Real romantic spot you got here.

[Just gonna sliiiiide back into being a little shithead.]

[americasdirtiest]

Fuck off. It's not like we're real spoiled for choice around here. It's here, the bar, or one of us has to cook. Not a huge selection.

Anyway, it's not a date date. I'm just stuck waiting on his ass to get out from the gym. [...God, he hopes Ian is still at the gym and not in any one of the thousand messes he could have easily gotten himself into. Mickey frowns and looks at the communicator again, distracted by sudden concern.]

[tucky]

{Her eyebrows shoot up.]

Him? You a homo?

[americasdirtiest]

[Once upon a time, Mickey would never have said anything at all; once upon a time, if he'd even go so far as to get lunch for Ian, it'd be hidden, shoved into his hands only when they were alone, and never spoken of to another living soul. But just like he's gotten nicer lately, he's gotten complacent since coming out. It's been a long time since anyone so much as reacted to him and Ian at all, much less like that.

The effect is more or less like someone encased everything in a ten-foot radius in ice. He looks up, all chattiness instantly gone, replaced by wary fury.]

Yeah. I am. A big one. Is that a fucking problem?

[tucky]

It's against God, is all, and I ain't afraid to say it. Is that a fucking problem?

[americasdirtiest]

No. It just so happens I love it when some rando queer-bashing Bible-thumping junkie bitch tries to step at me.

[He stands up and drops the communicator on the table, leaning towards her on his tattooed knuckles.]

Feel free to walk the fuck away, Poligrip.

[tucky]

[She leans in too, because clearly antagonizing him further is the best thing to do here.]

You threatening me? Because it looks to me like you're the one who's stepping up, and I'm just exercising my first amendment rights.

[americasdirtiest]

Well, maybe I'ma exercise my right to finish the job the meth pipe started.

[Although as soon as he says it, he realizes it's a tricky threat to make. He's never hit a girl that wasn't his sister. Not a human one, anyway.]

You a vampire or anything too on top of riding that church dick?

[tucky]

Just try it; ain't got nothing left.

[Most of the time she's embarrassed by and tries to hide her teeth, but she bares them now; there's like three left in her ruined gums.]

I'm. Not. Scared. Of. You. You wanna fight just 'cause I asked what you are, then go ahead! But I fight back.

cw for... idek homophobia maybe and general grossness

[americasdirtiest]

[So probably not a vampire. He narrows his eyes and leans forward a little more, although he's not totally sure what to do right now. He's pissed off as hell, plus he doesn't want to lose face here -- especially not here here, on the Barge, where he's already at the seriously low end of the totem pole power-wise -- but... it's just visceral. He can't. Whatever other incredibly shitty lessons his father taught him, that one's stuck around for the better: he doesn't hit girls.

He grits his teeth and scans her over, glances around. On the bright side, the cafeteria is nearly empty. No one to really break them up if they do get into it, but also no one to see him back off if he does. He looks back to her, down at the sandwich in front of her... and smirks. He reaches across the table, picks it up, and licks the bread, then tosses it back down at her.]

There. Enjoy the AIDS.

cw for... idek homophobia maybe and general grossness

[tucky]

[Being the completely mature paragon of humanity that she is, she immediately retaliates by picking the sandwich up and lobbing it at his face.]

cw for... idek homophobia maybe and general grossness

[americasdirtiest]

[Which, let's be real, means he won in his own deeply fucked up language. He catches it, smirk broadening.]

cw for... idek homophobia maybe and general grossness

[tucky]

[Nooooo master plan foiled. So she just glares, and continues to be all up in his face.]

I know you trying to intimidate me, but it's not gonna work. It don't matter what you think or say or do.

[americasdirtiest]

Yeah? Why the fuck you think it matters what you do?

[Which is... actually a pretty profound realization for him. Enough that he pulls back a little, blinking, startled by his own words.]

Why you think I give a shit what your dumb ass thinks?

[tucky]

You asked. Don't ask if you don't want me to say nothing!

[americasdirtiest]

You asked, you dumb fucking redneck. I'm sitting here waiting on my boyfriend like half the other people in this fucking place.

[And suddenly, he knows exactly what to do with all his anger. He drops her ruined sandwich to the table and starts collecting his and Ian's again, flashing her a feral smile.]

Yeah -- you better get used to that shit. Might as well be Boystown up in here.

[tucky]

[With a flash of anger, she reaches out and aims a shove at his chest, because clearly that is the best thing to do right now.]

[americasdirtiest]

[They're probably both lucky that his hands are full of sandwich, really. Mickey may not hit girls on purpose, not in cold blood, but the fight-or-flight instinct is still strong in him. With his blood as high as it is right now, there's really only one of those options: he shoves back, hard. He's pretty short for a boy, but he's still got plenty of height on her, and he's surprisingly strong for someone so small -- which maybe also has something to do with the look of frantic rage that flashes in his eyes.]

Don't you fucking touch me.

[tucky]

[His shove is harder than hers, and while she doesn't completely lose her balance, she does stumble backwards into a table, and the corner digs into her back.]

Ow! Don't you fucking touch me!

[She regains her footing and goes for a headbutt to the stomach.]

[OOC: SO this is my first IC fight (but undoubtedly not my last lmao)-- do we alert a warden player/Mickey's warden of what's going down so it can be stopped, or are inmates allowed to scrap as long as they don't kill each other?]

[americasdirtiest]

[He drops the food this time so he can catch her awkwardly around the head and shoulders, though when he does he only shoves her back again, trying to keep her at arm's distance away from him.]

Fuck you!

[It's not like he wants to fight. Sometimes he enjoys it, but... not her, not a girl. Not right here and now when things have just been getting better lately. And definitely, definitely not about this. As panicked and angry as he is, there's a weary sickness rising in him too. It's been five months since anyone tried to hurt him over Ian, but just when he was really starting to get used to it... Whatever everyone else says about it, is there ever really a time that he's not going to have to be on his guard?]