#02 - Speed Dial
Would be a great idea to call someone, right?
V & Jackie Welles, Val (fem-streetkid-V), Jackie Welles (mentioned), Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Val can't handle it anymore. She has to get away, away from this place that is almost like home. Away from these people who are almost like family.
Mama Welles. In many ways better to her than her own mother ever was. She hadn't hesitated for a second when Jackie had taken her home a good six months ago, offered her to stay at their place.
Pepe. How many evenings did they spend at his counter? Drinking, talking, laughing. How many times had she helped him? She would do it every time. Hermana is what he calls her - and that's how it feels. As if he were family.
Misty. Jackie's girlfriend and now Val's best female friend, too. Val had convinced her to come in. She couldn't stand the thought of her being alone while they were all together.
Viktor. Jackie's best friend, and Val's... hard to say. But she cares for him, and he apparently cares for her, too. 21-fucking-thousand eddies. Holy shit, what was he thinking. She shouldn't have accepted that.
Padre. He has known Val since she was a child. He knew her mother and was there when she died. He was one of the first to give her gigs. He is one of the few who still knows her full name.
Vince. Jackie's nomad, as they had joked. Only a few weeks in Night City and already a solid part of their group. Jackie took him home, like he did with Val. Only that Vince really didn't know anyone in this city then.
Val can't handle it anymore. She can't see her friends like this anymore, and she doesn't want her friends to see her like this. But she can't go home either, because she can't be alone now. Alone. Well, she's never alone. There is this terrorist in her mind. This terrorist who has been unusually quiet since she entered El Coyote Cojo.
So what to do. She can't stay, she doesn't want to go back to her apartment. Call someone and... there are enough people who would be happy if she calls again, if they would... But ugh, not today.
So Val goes to another bar. Any bar. It doesn't matter where, just somewhere where there are enough other people to not be alone. Somewhere with loud music and alcohol. The aviators stay on as she enters the bar and goes to the counter.
She knows she'll regret it tomorrow. She has just recovered from... well. And she has more than enough to do. She has to find a solution to get rid of the - still silent - terrorist in her head. And she needs to work and earn money to pay her rent. To pay back what she owes Viktor.
But today it doesn't matter. Today, nothing matters. She doesn't remember how many tequilas she's had at the Coyote Cojo, and she doesn't know what number of vodka that was just as she puts the empty glass back on the counter. After all, she paid for the least of them herself.
"Ya ever have to pay for your drinks, chica?" Jackie's voice in her head and his laughing face before her eyes. She waves to the bartender and washes down the lump in her throat with another shot of vodka.
She lets them buy her drinks, but otherwise doesn't get into any conversation - or flirtation. Not today. That's nothing casual sex could solve. Well, alcohol probably can't solve it either. Nothing can. But at least this way, she's only hurting herself.
Val has lost track of how long she has been here, how much she has drunk. She's drunk. She couldn't think of the last time she was this drunk. Okay, right now she couldn't think about anything. But if so.
As she gets up from her barstool, she falters slightly, holding onto the counter with one hand while someone's hand holds her by the arm. She doesn't understand what he's saying. When she looks at him, she doesn't recognize him.
Probably one of the guys who bought her something before. She didn't even really look at most of them. He offers to call her a cab or walk her to the door or... Val doesn't listen to him and just shakes her head.
Once she has found a tempo, walking is not that difficult. Outdoors, she leans against the house wall and takes a deep breath. Fresh air... well, as fresh as the air in Heywood is.
And then, without thinking about it, quite naturally, as she does always when she needs someone: Speed dial. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closes her eyes. When the voicemail answers, she realizes her mistake. Too late. Speed dial. Fuck! That's Jackie.
Mama Welles. In many ways better to her than her own mother ever was. She hadn't hesitated for a second when Jackie had taken her home a good six months ago, offered her to stay at their place.
Pepe. How many evenings did they spend at his counter? Drinking, talking, laughing. How many times had she helped him? She would do it every time. Hermana is what he calls her - and that's how it feels. As if he were family.
Misty. Jackie's girlfriend and now Val's best female friend, too. Val had convinced her to come in. She couldn't stand the thought of her being alone while they were all together.
Viktor. Jackie's best friend, and Val's... hard to say. But she cares for him, and he apparently cares for her, too. 21-fucking-thousand eddies. Holy shit, what was he thinking. She shouldn't have accepted that.
Padre. He has known Val since she was a child. He knew her mother and was there when she died. He was one of the first to give her gigs. He is one of the few who still knows her full name.
Vince. Jackie's nomad, as they had joked. Only a few weeks in Night City and already a solid part of their group. Jackie took him home, like he did with Val. Only that Vince really didn't know anyone in this city then.
Val can't handle it anymore. She can't see her friends like this anymore, and she doesn't want her friends to see her like this. But she can't go home either, because she can't be alone now. Alone. Well, she's never alone. There is this terrorist in her mind. This terrorist who has been unusually quiet since she entered El Coyote Cojo.
So what to do. She can't stay, she doesn't want to go back to her apartment. Call someone and... there are enough people who would be happy if she calls again, if they would... But ugh, not today.
So Val goes to another bar. Any bar. It doesn't matter where, just somewhere where there are enough other people to not be alone. Somewhere with loud music and alcohol. The aviators stay on as she enters the bar and goes to the counter.
She knows she'll regret it tomorrow. She has just recovered from... well. And she has more than enough to do. She has to find a solution to get rid of the - still silent - terrorist in her head. And she needs to work and earn money to pay her rent. To pay back what she owes Viktor.
But today it doesn't matter. Today, nothing matters. She doesn't remember how many tequilas she's had at the Coyote Cojo, and she doesn't know what number of vodka that was just as she puts the empty glass back on the counter. After all, she paid for the least of them herself.
"Ya ever have to pay for your drinks, chica?" Jackie's voice in her head and his laughing face before her eyes. She waves to the bartender and washes down the lump in her throat with another shot of vodka.
She lets them buy her drinks, but otherwise doesn't get into any conversation - or flirtation. Not today. That's nothing casual sex could solve. Well, alcohol probably can't solve it either. Nothing can. But at least this way, she's only hurting herself.
Val has lost track of how long she has been here, how much she has drunk. She's drunk. She couldn't think of the last time she was this drunk. Okay, right now she couldn't think about anything. But if so.
As she gets up from her barstool, she falters slightly, holding onto the counter with one hand while someone's hand holds her by the arm. She doesn't understand what he's saying. When she looks at him, she doesn't recognize him.
Probably one of the guys who bought her something before. She didn't even really look at most of them. He offers to call her a cab or walk her to the door or... Val doesn't listen to him and just shakes her head.
Once she has found a tempo, walking is not that difficult. Outdoors, she leans against the house wall and takes a deep breath. Fresh air... well, as fresh as the air in Heywood is.
And then, without thinking about it, quite naturally, as she does always when she needs someone: Speed dial. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closes her eyes. When the voicemail answers, she realizes her mistake. Too late. Speed dial. Fuck! That's Jackie.
Daily Prompt:
April 2 - sitchSuper drunk/high as a kite. Would be a great idea to call someone, right?
I managed to turn it into angsty emotinal hurt stuff again...
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