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The fact that it is late and Liv is not home yet is not unusual. Especially not lately, with the Hellmouth being what it is.
The fact that, when the front door opens and she slips inside, she does so with a literal keg slung over her armor-clad shoulder in addition to the takeout bag dangling from her hand? That's a bit more unusual.
"Honeys, I'm home~" Liv calls into the apartment, bumping the door closed carefully with her hip. "And I come bearing kebabs."
*
Jack has been sitting on the bed in her 'room' with Christmas. The door opens and the most anxious of the roomies treads to the kitchen. The smell and call of kebabs are enough for the pup to desperately seek out food. Chrissy jumps on her hind legs and begs at Liv with a quiet whimper. She wants kebabs. She's cute.
Jack, for her part, remains tucked away in her room. "Hey! Just finishing a couple things — be out in a few — "
*
Max — or rather, her boots— are visible over the back of the couch, crossed at the ankles. Birfly, anyway, because the magazine she's reading flies into the air and her boots vanish haphazardly.
"Kebabs!" she cheers, appearing, meerkat-like, over the couch. Keg! "You're sharing that too, yeah?"
*
Liv's crouched down to carefully ruffle Chrissy's ears by the time Max is upright, grinning down at the puppy. "Yes, yes, you can have some lamb, too. But not before your mama." Jack eats before her dog does. That's just the rules.
Straightening, Liv starts not for the kitchen, but the living room, extending the takeout bag towards Max. "I will also share the mead," she confirms, though there's something a bit odd in her tone. Aside from using the word 'mead,' anyway. "But you have to promise to drink it slowly. This is, uh. Really. Really strong."
*
Jack emerges from the closet in which she lives with several streaks of paint across her face and clothes. Her hands are a paint disaster, begging the question whether she was painting with a brush or her fingers. "Hey!" she sniffs the air, "What time is it? I feel like we had dinner." Her nose wrinkles and her eyes turn upwards, "Or was that yesterday? Maybe we had dinner yesterday…?"
Her nose wrinkles further as she looks between Max and Liv, "Mead? Like… honey wine?" Her eyebrows draw together quizzically.
*
Max comes up out of the takeout bag with a wide grin. "'Really strong', huh? I like the sound of that. So what's the occassion? This stuff smells great." Cos it does. They don't usually shell out for the Good Stuff.
*
"Oh, it's… you know…" Liv smiles broadly at both of her roommates, though her brow does furrow in confusion at Jack's rather colorful state. Which also, it turns out, derails her train of thought. "…Jack, is that paint?"
Once Max has taken the bag, Liv carries the keg to the nearest clean patch of kitchen counter and gently sets it down. "We, uh, we did have dinner yesterday. And I may have missed dinner tonight, it's pretty late. Sorry."
*
"Uh… " Jack's eyes turn down to her hands and her chin cants upwards. A smirk follows suit, "…yes?" Because there's nothing wrong with painting. "I found this whole in the wall. Probably left by a nail. So naturally I thought I should repair it. I went out to the hardware store and got some of that drywall type paint. But when I patched it, the colour didn't match. So then I figured I'd paint the whole thing. But I didn't have wall paint. I had paints. So I thought I would try that." Her lips purse and she emits a long slow breath.
"So.. this is a weird hour snack?" Jack arches an eyebrow.
Chrissy begs for food. Again.
*
Max watches Jack explain, and then her eyes slide over towards Liv. Welp. Landlord doesn't like them anyway, what's some paint? She digs through the bag for a bit of food, eats most of the bite herself and posses the pooch the small remainder. Max miiiiight do this frequently.
"Oh, wow, where'd you go for this? It's amazing." Max lovvvves food.
*
Liv trades a brief look with Max, shrugs, and flashes Jack a smile. "I'd love to see it when you're done." This is fine. The landlord'll probably never even see it until after they've moved out, anyway. No problem~
"It is very much a weird hour snack. And kind of a pre-emptive peace offering," Liv admits with a grimace, moving to fish out a trio of glasses so she can share the mead. Two of them are small, practically shot glasses. The third is… hers. That is a very full pint. "I owe you two an overdue explanation, so I thought it might come easier with a meal."
*
The look exchanged between her roommates causes Jack's shoulder to shrug. "Yeah! Of course you can see when it's done. It's not close yet," she taps her paint-stained nose and reaches for one of the kebabs. She carefully tugs a pieces of meat off the stick and pensively chews it. Her eyes narrow somewhat and the chewing slows. Around her full mouth she manages, "So.. this is blood meat?" peace offerings before knowing what the peace is for leave her wary.
*
Max pauses in the midst of digging in to (really excellent) food, to gesture for one of the shotglasses. "With that size, this better be as insane as the food, Liv," she opines. "Alright, so a talk's overdue. This about Iceland?" she hazards.
*
"It is about Iceland." Liv extends one of the shots towards Max, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "Drink it slowly. I'm not kidding."
Once Liv has given up on convincing Max to drink it slowly, she grabs the other shot and carries it over to Jack, her smile… odd. "Well, it's also an apology for the break-in. That was completely my fault. They shouldn't be back, we had a… a chat."
*
"It's a shot…" Jack eyes Liv suspicious as she's given the instructions, but still manages to take a small sip. "Wait." She turns to look between the pair, "When did we have a break-in? Did I know we had a break-in? Did they take anything?" She steps back towards the living room, "I need to call Sensure. I could probably assess any damage incurred from it and given an estimate — " does she seem… excited to do the math? Probably.
*
Max makes a face. "Liv's ad worked fine, except one of the interested parties wasn't interested in waiting to call back. They picked the lock, waited inside til I got home." She shrugs. "Didn't mess with anything, but it was annoying as shit. If I hadn't scared the shit out of them coming in through the wall I probably would have thrown them out."
Grump. She— habitually— tosses back the shotglass without thinking about it, then realizes what she just did and wobbles in place a touch. "…oh. Okay." So that's a thing now.
*
Liv isn't sure which to wince at harder: the method which Jack has been made aware of the break-in, or Max being… Max.
"You can have my kebab," is what Liv settles on telling Jack, quickly stepping over to grab Max by the scruff of her shirt to keep her upright. Steady. "The woman who did the finding and lock-picking has been informed that she owes me a favor, and she's actually very pleasant, aside from… you know. The B-and-E. But nothing was damaged or taken. So."
After a pause, Liv just…. scoops Max up and carts her over to the sofa, setting her down. Siddown, kiddo. "I am not from Iceland, and neither is the mead. So take it easy while that kicks in, okay?"
*
Deflated from exiting insurance adjuster mode, Jack's shoulders slump forward. "Well," she offers quietly, "it's good no one was hurt," because that's the thing they are programmed to say to clients regardless of the condition of a break in. Her throat clears, "And that nothing was taken. I guess."
Her head turns slowly towards Liv and her eyes train on the pair near the sofa. "Oh-kaaaay." Her eyes flit between them, "Unless you broke out of prison and this is some karmic equalization from a past life, I'm not sure why that's kebab-worthy. A lot of people aren't from Iceland." She points towards Max, "Not from Iceland." And then her self, "Not from Iceland!" And then Christmas, "Probably(?) not from Iceland."
*
Max is easily moved to the couch, blinking owlishly. She has not had enough for quite the level of drunkeness that appears to be setting in, but the half-bottle of Rebel Yell on the coffee table might suggest some clues.
Her fists go up in a cheer when Jack explains. "Not from Iceland!!!" She's user-happy she's not, you guys. She's also listing heavily to one side while her arms are up like that. "S'not news Liv," she adds. "We were jus' bein' polic— poolit—" A pause, a slight giggle. "…nice."
*
"Most people who aren't from Iceland aren't like me," Liv says to Jack with an odd smile, absently resting one hand against the top of Max's head to keep her from tipping over. She thinks for a moment, studying Jack thoughtfully, before her eyes go to the nearest bookshelf. "…how are you on Norse mythology, Jack?" she asks. "Thor? Loki? Those stories?"
*
Max earns a stifled giggle. "See. Not Icelandic." Her eyebrows lift at Liv's question, "Uh. I dunno. A bit, I guess? I mean… I vaguely remember reading about Ragnarok in my high school english class. There was this poem…" she doesn't remember much about it save one thing: "In it the gods all died. Which made no sense to me. But yes. I know a bit."
*
"The GOD of THUNDAH," Max supplies loudly when Thor's name comes into it. "…and Thursdays," she adds more quietly. Then the squints, like her brain's trying to put to things together and keeps missing the connection. though eventually her eyes go wide and she shoves Liv in the shoulder.
"Shut *up*, you are so not. Really?" She makes a face, barely covering a burp with her hand. She tried. "So who are you really? Naw, lemme guess. Yer FREYA. Or… no no no…" she punches Liv in the arm, wobling. "You're more of a Brigid. it's the hair." then something occurs to her— probably just as Liv's trying to say something "OH! No, you're TOTALLY Brunhilde. Only… not. Like the basis for that awesome story, right? It's like, wassitcalled. My lit prof had a word for it… Like how Jesus was a guy, right? But not the same guy." She snickers. "Jesus." there is probably a reason saying the name is funny. To her.
*
Dealing with a Max this drunk is nothing new for Jack and Liv. The smile the blonde aims towards Jack as their roommate begins to go on is a very familiar one, patient and long-suffering… until Max starts throwing out names, and guesses. Then a very unfamiliar tightness starts to settle in around Liv's eyes, which are soon aimed down at the floor between her boots.
Once Max's guesses have petered out, Liv very quietly clears her throat, flashing a brief smile at the pair. "…no, no. I'm nobody like that. They exist, they're real," she adds, holding up a hand. "I'm just… not them."
*
Jack stares outright at Max and then Liv. Her mind whirs and buzzes with information as her thoughts fire to parse what she's been told. Her lips part wordlessly like a codfish, and then close. Her expression turns sour and she trails back towards the kitchen to set her still-full-ish shot of Mead on the counter.
"I…" she squints and frowns before taking a few hesitant steps towards the door.
*
Max lists in a couple directions before commiting to falling over on her back on the couch. "Oh, that's good. So… just Liv? Is Liv a Norse name? I don't even know…." she trails off pensively, then announces "I'm pretty drunk."
*
"Yeah. Just Liv." She stays where she is, but she's watching Jack with an increasing amount of worry on her face. "Jack? Are you okay?" Liv asks slowly, resisting the urge to wring her hands.
*
"I… " Jack's brain may be imploding, which could be why she reaches for the dog leash, "Christmas needs a walk," despite the time. Clearly. "Uh… I'll be back later. Just a walk." She almost nods and then whistles for her beloved pup who comes to the door at the call. The leash is clipped onto the dog and she treads back towards the door.
*
Max's gaze slides to Liv, and while even inebriated, Max doesn't say anything like 'don't get kidnapped by vampires this time'… she might be thinking it a little. Instead she opines. "N' big deal. You're Liv, just like you've always been. So why the Iceland schtick?"
*
Liv does not gesture towards the retreating Jack to answer Max's question. Instead, she runs a hand back over her hair, taking a slow, steadying breath. "…okay. Be careful, Jack. If you have questions when you get back, I'll be here." Hopefully, letting her walk it off is a good idea. Fingers crossed.
*
Rogue arrives from Albert Chambers - Flat 906.
*
Max throws an arm over her face, sighs, once Jack departs. "Hope she's just brain-scrambled or something," she mumbles. "I'm gonna feel this in the morning, aren't I? Anyhow. Question stands."
*
Once she has retrieved her pint (and drained half of it in one large gulp), Liv drops heavily down to sit on the couch next to Max, finally letting the fatigue show on her face. "I'm going to feel this in the morning. Yes. I'll make sure there is water and aspirin at hand," she promises.
But. The question. Liv just eyes Max, raising her eyebrows. "Most people aren't quite as willing to accept things like this as you are, Max. I haven't even told Jack how old I am yet," she says with a groan, slumping back into the couch. "She'll be walking the dog for weeks."
*
Max thinks about that, decides she's too drunk to work it out, shrugs. "People are weird. This kind of thing is why I don't so the identity thing. Pain in the ass being someone you aren't, especially when you change your mind and tell people."
*
"That's just it, Max. I'm still just… me," Liv says helplessly, though Max's phrasing does still have her peering rather guiltily down into what remains of her pint. "I haven't been back to Asgard in centuries. This is my home. But I've seen too many people lately who are from Asgard, I wanted the two of you to hear it from me. Not someone else."
*
Max just nods, shrugs again. "Naw, I get that. I didn't mean it that way. Just saying, well, you know Jack, she probably had something else in her head. She'll adjust." Probably? "Hell, I don't even know if I'm actually human, I'm not gonna bitch you out about it. Still… probably should have told us. Jack might think y'don't trust her."
*
"Yes, well, you probably should have told her about the break-in, too, so we're both batting .500," Liv says in a low voice, reaching over to smack Max on the bicep with the back of one hand. She's just. Gonna. Chug the rest of her pint, now.
*
Max wrinkles her nose, rocks slightly with the smack. "Ow. Yeah, probably, but once they managed to be mostly harmless I guess I stopped worrying about it. There was all that other stuff to worry about." She makes a vague noise. "Still.. fair. Too bad I'm probably too drunk t' remember half of this. That shit is strong."
*
"Nectar of the Gods," Liv says in a too-light voice, and after a pause, she does reach over to apologetically pet the spot she'd smacked. "Next time I'll pour you a thimble."
*
"Tch," Max retorts. Very eloquent. "I was already halfway into a bottle of bourbon," she points out, and stretches. "Think that stuff'd mix with Duke's? I'm envisioning a warm, super-chill blurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she explains, gesturing into the air.
*
This question makes Liv pause. "I've… never actually tried," she admits, blinking slowly at the realization. Huh. "Ask him first. It's probably fine, but if it's going to go unexpectedly sideways on you, I'd rather find out beforehand."
*
"S'fine," Max notes. "I'd hafta get more anyhow, means askin'." She yawns:then cracks an eye towards the door. "So how long we give her before we go looking?"
*
"Are you even sober enough to go looking?" Liv asks with an odd smile, though she does twist in place to follow Max's gaze towards the door. "I'm… I mean, should I? Under the circumstances?"
*
"That's never stopped me before," Max points out brightly. And then shrugs. "Like *I* know, I'm drunk." And helpful. "I mean, I assume there's some point at which we are reasonable to get worried? Unless you think the dog's gonna protect her." A giggle at the thought.
*
Liv snorts. "No, no, of course not — but she did survive this long without us. As easy as it is to forget," she says wryly, shifting to her feet so she can pace towards the kitchen. Various glasses need to be rinsed in the sink and, in the case of Jack's abandoned shot, drank and then rinsed in the sink.
*
Max sprawls, when left to her own devices. "Yeah, you've got a point, but I'd go check on YOU, so…" Pfffft. "Yer probably right, though. Think 'mma pass out. Probably bounce off the wall and fall through the floor if I tried." A pause. "Which is hilarious and I should try it sometime."
*
'Think I'mma pass out' is all Liv needs to hear. With a patient smile, she makes her way back over to the couch, not bothering to ask before she scoops Max up. This, too, is familiar. "Maybe next time. This time, let's just sleep it off. You're gonna have enough regrets in the morning without starling the neighbors."
*
Max flails and makes an undignified complainy noise as she's scooped and carried. "Sure, ruin my tradition of sleeping it off on the couch, you heartless— Lucky I can't get my eyes to focus long enough to put on weight you—" Speaking of familiar. Max has never been graceful about being put to bed before she passes out from drink.
*
"You can yell at me for it tomorrow, just as soon as your head stops pounding," Liv says patiently, hauling Max off to their room. The temptation is there to dump her into her bed like a sack of potatos, but no — Liv is too nice. Max gets carefully sat down, instead. "I'll go get you some water and aspirin. You're gonna want 'em."
*
Max manages to somehow tumble out of Liv's arms and into bed anyway, landing facedown. It takes all of Liv walking to the door for her to start snoring softly. Yeah… this is pretty normal, too.
*