log: amanda and warren (backdated)

[x-highflying.livejournal.com]

A lost log! Back in March, Warren is still moping about Jay being gone and missing Piotr, which results in him drunk dialling Amanda and pouring out his woes.

Warren's coping mechnanisms weren't quite as good as he liked to let people think, which is why he was currently stumbling out of an East Village bar, grumbling under his breath. He looked down to find his phone in hand, and instead of doing something sensible like calling for a car to pick him up, he dialled Amanda's number and impatiently waited for her to pick up. Once she did, he didn't bother to wait to let her speak, just launched straight into a rather drunken ramble.

"Did you know there's a bar called Angels and Kings in New York? Don't ever ever go there. It's full of stupid prententious idiots. And hipsters." A pause. "I guess they're the same thing, huh?"

Sitting up in bed, trying to focus through the sleep fog, Amanda blinked: "Warren? That you? What the fuck time is it?"

"It's." Warren paused and looked at his phone. "It's 2am. Were you asleep?" Warren honestly sounded surprised at the concept.

"I'd just dropped off. S' all right." For Warren to be out drinking on a weeknight until 2 a.m. and drunk dialling her... yeah, someone wasn't coping with the sudden single life. "You all right, mate?"
"Apparently, I am too drunk to serve." Warren sounded very injured by that. "They didn't believe me when I said I'd be sober in like half an hour. I'll show them." Well, he probably wouldn't. Because he'd just wander until he found somewhere else to drink.

Amanda was already climbing out of bed and looking for pants. "You want some company? I can be there in a jiffy. You know what they say about drinking alone." She kept her tone light and teasing, the same as always, even as she was planning to basically haul his drunken feathery butt home.

"I wasn't alone," he protested. "There was a girl. With a food name. Hrmmm. Not Candy, I haven't spoken to her in years. Apple? Orange? Peach? I can't remember. I think she wanted to sleep with me." Warren sounded bemused by thought.

"No bonking fruit salads, War, you never know what you'll end up with." Pants had been achieved, and she was pulling on a pair of socks, phone balanced against her ear with her shoulder. "Where are you right now?"

"Hmmm, but that would be delicious." He paused at the question, looking around a little puzzled. "I think I'm on eleventh avenue." That is where he'd stumbled out to, and he was sure he hadn't turned a corner yet.

"A sticky mess is what you'd end up with." Amanda shoved her feet into a pair of trainers since the Docs would take too long to lace up. "Right, 11th Avenue and the wanky bar district it is. Hold onto your hat, I'm gunna show you a magic trick." And with that she took a breath, closed her eyes and let herself sink into the floor, merging with New York briefly before popping up again on 11th Avenue. Warren wasn't immediately apparent, but then she caught sight of him across the street. "Oi, Warren!" she called.

Amanda made it sound like a sticky mess was a bad idea. Warren hung up the phone, and then stumbled around a few more steps trying to find a bench to sit on while he waited for Amanda. Who he heard a lot earlier than he thought he would. He turned and blinked a few times. "Hey!" He started to wander over to her, not bothering to check for traffic. He was Warren Worthington, traffic stopped for him. Obviously. "How'd you get here so fast?"
Amanda grimaced at the weaving progress and came forward to hustle Warren off the road before he became the punchline of a chicken and the road joke. "Magic," she told him with a grin. "New York likes me, so it tends to do what I ask, if I do it nicely."

"Magic," he said with a laugh, draping an arm around her shoulder to help keep himself upright. "You are so the only person I know who can say that and have it not be sarcasm." He grinned, leaning against her. "So how much does New York like you?" He asked, leering just a bit.

She wrapped her arm around his waist to help with that whole 'upright' thing. "Not quite as much as London does, but I'm happier not being absorbed by the place on a regular basis," she said wryly. "And it won't let me take passengers, so I can't give you a lift, unfortunately." She wrinkled her nose at the smell of booze clinging to the man. "Wow, you went out and got yourself trashed, didn't you?"

"It's okay." He grinned. "I can take you flying instead. We can soooar over New York." It was probably a good thing his wings were harnessed down, or he would have taken off immediately. "And it's not my fault if it takes a lot of booze to keep me drunk." He sounded a little sulky about that.

"Maybe later on the ariel sight seeing," Amanda temporised, not wanting to wind up barfing on someone down in Times Square with a weaving fly boy testing her mettle. "But I s'pose that's the million quid question, isn't it? Why keep drunk in the first place?"

Probably a good choice, Amanda. Warren wasn't so great at flying drunk. It was a long while before he answered, as he contemplated his response.

"I miss him. Not Jay, but I miss him too. But I miss Piotr. Isn't that ridiculous?"

They were passing an all-night diner - Amanda subtly steered Warren in that direction, as sitting and coffee and maybe some food would help him burn off his bender. "Not really," she replied to his rhetorical-ish question. "You were with him a long time and it takes time to adjust. It was like that with Manny - even though I did the breaking up and things were really not good for either of us, I still missed him. And I miss Ange now."

It was a good idea. Warren let himself be steered, barely glancing at the diner as they moved through the doors. "I thought it would get easier," he said a little morosely.

"Patience, grasshopper," came the wry reply. "These things take time, or so everyone told me the first time around. 'S sort of the downside to falling in love. When it goes pear-shaped, we have to deal with the fallout." She manoevered Warren into a seat at a booth and slid into the one opposite him, signalling the waitress for two coffees to start with. "Tell you what does help, tho'. Hanging around with your mates instead of moping alone."

"Maybe I should just stop then," he grumbled, slumping in the booth slightly. He knew, rationally, that didn't work - he hadn't planned on getting involved with anyone for awhile after the break up, and then Jay had come along and he couldn't help himself. "I have very busy friends," he said, a little defensively. "Curing cancer, saving the world. You know."

"Never too busy for a mate," Amanda replied. "Or, if I am, there's plenty of people who aren't me. A whole team of 'em, in fact. You might know them - wear black leather, like to hit bad guys?"

"Yeah, yeah," Warren grumbled, wrapping his hands around the mug of coffee that just got put down in front of him. "I'm just wallowing. Don't mind me."

"You're a friend, so I'll mind you as much as I want." Amanda reached over and tweaked his nose gently. "Next time you want to go drown your sorrows, call me before, yeah? I'll come with you, make a party of it."

Warren wrinkled his nose, and just laughed. "Now how can I say no when a gorgeous woman wants to party with me?"