Forums » General Roleplay » A Hero Stands... Stumbles (open)

AJ frowned softly, remembering the kind parents who raised her and felt bad for him for a moment. She moved carefully to climb onto his back. She could smell his cologne and she shivered, "Where would you like my crutches?" She was so close to his cheek and she could feel her own heating.

This was a romantic moment. She wanted to say something, and she opened her mouth... and felt a bolt of luck rushing up her spin. She was well overdue at this point. She proceeded to groan as she vomited. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

He had turned his head just in time to avoid the warmth that spilled down over his shoulder. For a moment he remained where he was, frozen in horror at the fact that his shirt was ruined...and that AJ had thrown up on him.

And then he chuckled softly, as he stood up again with AJ on his back. "All the more reason you shouldn't walk. Did you eat anything before taking your pain meds? Sometimes that helps with nausea."

Gamely he took the crutches under one arm and began up the stairs. The sooner he got to her apartment, the sooner he could get her to rest comfortable; and then maybe he could take a shower.

Her entire body felt heavy now, as though unloading the vomit was only the beginning, "You took that rather well. I am so sorry about your shirt. As soon as I can afford to, I'll pay you back for it. I could clean it too, if my washer is working, otherwise I have a tub and I can clean it by hand. That's what I usually do..." She trailed off, reaching up to wipe her face, "You smelled really good, a second ago, ignoring his question.

"Don't worry about it," Roosevelt said, meaning his shirt. "I know enough about how to clean stains off my shirt that you should just rest when we reach your place."

He flushed. "Ah, thanks, I think." He really hadn't noticed his smell before the vomit. And now he was only all too well aware of it. "We'll get you cleaned up first though, and then settled. What room number are you?"

He was at the second floor now. Only six more to go.

"Eight-oh-one. Right by the stairs, thankfully. It's a nice place for being in a crap location with a horrible elevator." She gave him her best smile, "So Cody's important to you? That means that if I wanna start anything, I'll have to be... nice? Like the Spice Girl's song." She began to sing, a little off-key, "If you wanna be my lover, ya gotta get with my friends..."

Roosevelt laughed again, and shifted his grip a little. He couldn't tell if she was being serious or if it was the medication talking.

"So what kinds of friends does a vigilante have? I'm guessing you have friends beyond that guy who dropped you off at the police station?"

She sneered, "Uh, Casey isn't really my friend. He's someone I had... a... I had a one night stand with him and then discovered he was a petty theif among other things not told in polite company. He's not a nice guy, but he knows my secret so we're at a stand-still. I've got a few really good friend Rebekkah and Morgan are the better two. Rebekkah is from here and Morgan is from the town I'm from. She's pretty wicked. If you ever get to meet her, you'll love her. She's a technician for NASA. Rebekkah is... she's a shoe wench like me. We work in the same store, but she's the manager."

Roosevelt listened with interest though he carefully refrained from saying anything about Casey.

"A shoe wench huh? Is that where you got your boots for your outfit? How long have you been working at the shoe place? But that's pretty impressive to have a friend who works for NASA. Rebekkah and Morgan," he repeated the names to himself. "You should have them visit you; they'll be worried when they hear about your leg."

Third floor and his arms were beginning to burn. But he was almost halfway.Almost. No time to be giving up now.

"Well, she's been tinkering with electronics since she was little. Told me once when we were growing up she wanted to go to the moon. I thought she was mad!" She tittered, and rested her head on his shoulder, "if you can't make it up, I'm skilled with crutches. What part of the city do you live in? Do you have a real place to live? Or just temporary ones all the time?"

Roosevelt hesitated when it came to mentioning where he lived. "It's mostly temporary," he admitted. "We don't really stay long in any one place, which is just as well since we kind of...congregate where we can. This last time we were in the old, abandoned parts of the city. It had character, if not much else."

"But then we can't all be living in sunshine." He paused. "I'm usually okay with how things work out, but lately...I've been struggling a little. I'm nearly 28 and I haven't accomplished anything close to what I hoped I would. At least, it doesn't feel like it. And it's only a matter of time before Cody tracks me down."

They were at the fourth floor and he gently set her down. "I need a short break, sorry," he said, rolling his shoulders. "You sure you wanna try risking stairs on crutches with your kind of luck?"

She listened, giving him a sympathetic ear. She didn't know what to way, but when he put her down, she sat on the stairs and lifted her butt up one and then brought her legs up, and then another and another. It was a long task, but it gave him a break. She just watched him in the horrible light that flickered on and off in ancient lamps.

He sighed as he watched her climb the stairs her own way. It seemed the safer, if slower, method even as he followed her. In the back of his mind he was wondering what he was doing. Technically they should be at odds, not helping each other. Although given the sketchiness of the stairs that were hardly lit up, he was surprised she lived in such a place.

"Why did you bail me out?" he asked suddenly.

Shocked by the sudden question, AJ needed a moment to get her baring. This question was complicated, terrifyingly so. Opening and closing her mouth several times, she let out a breath.

"Is it wrong to say I did it because I like you? I mean, I barely know you, but I know you're not a bad guy. You certainly don't want to hurt people..." She trailed off, feeling like a fool. Were these really the right answers?

He stared at her, shocked. She'd read all that from him in the brief time they'd spent together? Well, she wasn't wrong; on the contrary, she had him pegged.

He was quiet a moment and smiled. "Thank you." When they reached the fifth floor he offered to carry her again the rest of the way.

"I guess we're both gonna sleep good tonight," he murmured. "Given all the excitement of the day."

Laughing, AJ got into a good possition to get back on his back, "Well, my hide-a-bed is quite comfortable, I think. I haven't slept on it myself in about six months. The last time I did... well I some how folded myself into it - though, it's possible that Morgan did that to mess with me. Do you sleep in real beds? Or is it all cots you can move easily? You're welcome to sleep at my place if you need to." She smiled at him, meaning the offer.

"Oh man, a mattress? I haven't slept on one of those in too long. Mostly we use cots; easy to set up, easy to haul. Some prefer the floor; too many roaches there usually for my taste." He picked her up easily enough and quickly climbed the remaining flights of stairs.

"I'll take you up on that offer, if you don't mind." And then with a grin, he added: "So, besides bailing questionable handsome strangers out of jail, what do you do for fun?"

"I like dancing, some. Reading mostly. I also work out a LOT." She stressed the word, "I'm not just naturally cute. I have to work hard to keep my figure." It wasn't a total lie, but it wasn't entirely true either. She moved her face, so her nose was touching his earlobe, "You can take my bed, you should sleep in a real bed. Not just a hide-a-bed."

Roosevelt twitched when her nose touched his ear. "I guess a crime-fighter's job is never done; but I highly doubt that you have to work so hard at being cute."

At last they finally made it to the eighth floor. And he stopped with a sigh. "Room eight-oh-one, right? I think we're here."

She wiggled to get her keys from her pocket, "You're my hero." She set herself down lightly, unlocking the door, and she juggled the handle until it opened. Her little flat was dark and from what could be seen there was a bathroom, a livingroom, a kitchen, a storage room and a bedroom at the end of the short hall.

"You can keep the bed," Roosevelt said. "I'll be fine on the couch." He waited for her to enter first, following behind. "Are you hungry? I can whip something up in the kitchen while you clean up."