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[Taking the bottle back and drinking. Pause. Waiting for something to happen. Then another beat.]

Could you try it now? [Realising that she should ask, so she did, hurray!]

[Kind of like her, just standing around and waiting for something amazing to happen. Then she says that, and he turns to stare at her. Blinks once. Then it clicks after a few more seconds that he's the one supposed to be doing the something-ing.]

Oh. [What was he supposed to be doing again? ...Right, roof. Get up on the roof.] Sure.

[And poor Ange gets no warning before tossing her over one shoulder, and proceeding to generally go right to an autopilot switch, all business and focus and it only takes three consecutive jumps - two up the side, one from off the opposing building - then setting her back down.

Taking back the booze though.] Done.

[What the hell. She is not Lion. Then again Amakusa does that sometimes. Never mind, carry on tossing Ushiromiya around like purses.

Luckily she is too drunk to quite comprehend anything except wow everything moved away from them. That is pretty cool. Maybe it was magic. And then she's set down and oh it was Will. That's still pretty cool.]

...That was pretty cool. [See? He even earns that booze.

And then wandering to the edge of the roof and looking down. Huh, there's stuff down there. People moving around and...stuff. It's a nice view though.]

I like looking down. [That is the smart people's way of saying "this view is really nice and there's probably deep and pretty things that can be said about expanses or something."]

[There's a moment where he stares at her answer like it doesn't really register. Then even when it does, he still stares. Saying something like being called 'cool', what is even. But he just casually chooses to let the alcohol wipe his short-term memory a bit, and the momentary blue screen is gone. Excellent.

Then following her over to stare over the side, mindlessly leaning with a recklessness that's part having no fear of heights and part being entirely drunk. At any other time, with anyone else, it might be a worrisome action. With Ange, it's really just mentally gauging distance for the upcoming jump.]

...Mn. Looks nice. [All the lights and the stupid little people wandering about their insomniac lives. They're both poets.]

[Truly poetic, two drunks staring off a roof in preparation to jump off like morons because it seems like a good idea.

At least Will agrees with her deep and heartfelt sentiment. Back to gauging, though, and Ange tilts her head at a few carriages. Maybe she is really wasted but some thoughts are easy. Too small or too distant or something.]

Uhm...that one? [Vaguely waving her charts at a larger carriage that isn't going too fast. She can't tell if it'll pass close enough though. Her jumps tend to involve landing on shit that isn't moving at the time.]

[Ange's the professional at roof-jumping here, she even has flow charts to show how correct she is. And her suggestion earns a stare, sorting out the one she's staring to. Not like it matters since she's the professional. So it's obviously the right one.

And just as easily as if he wasn't drunk at all, stepping up to stand on the edge of the building, and with the lights and soft wind from the updraft and his own presence and eerily perfect balance, it makes for a cutting figure. Even successfully intimidating. Then turning around just enough to hand her the bottle like an offering to a fellow warrior.]

Sounds good... Here. Yours. Can't bring this with us.

[Kill it Ange, a sacrifice to the name of victory.]

[If Ange some sort of coherence that wasn't full of stupid, she'd think he looks more than just 'cool' right then. It's really...impressive and she can see for a second why he has that reputation of being badass or whatever it was that it is. Ange remembers only a bit.

Then taking a long swig and setting the bottle on the ground before stepping up to join him. It's a pretty familiar thing for her. Always did like how the wind feels right before. She smiles and it's pretty serene actually for a drunk. Hair blowing back and she turns to him, blinking.

There's something to say in moments like this. Ange's smile widens to a grin and she gives him a casual salute with two fingers.]

'See you in hell.' [And then with all the practised ease of a professional skydiver who isn't drunk off her ass, Ange jumps.]

[What a set they must make, two badasses standing on the edge of a rooftop, with nothing but inebriation and a fuck-all attitude to say it's a good idea. And charts. Brilliant charts, Ange should go into public speaking with line graph skills like that.

But she's smiling, and the salute is read as a cue to move, and in that one instant maybe Ange was right that falling off of buildings was nice. A rush of wind and lights that feels like you're falling into the stars, and he only recognizes how horrible her last line is right when the feeling is gone. Suddenly replaced with darkness and a barely-registered soreness someone with an insane pain tolerance landing through the roof of a carriage onto the floor, and screams from some couple off to his left.

They get a glance a half-hearted salute before speaking, assuming there's an Ange there on the right but not spending the effort to look.] Your pronunciation sucks.

[At least that's one thing Ange will never get tired of. Drunk or not, the rushing and stars make it feel like another world. A much nicer one. Well, she does still have issues but they're quiet compared to the gentle happiness of the fall.

And then abrupt stop and Ange is groaning, because ow, yeah, she forgot landings can hurt. Oh well. Too drunk to register much pain. The screams and yelling is a little annoying but at least the world stopped. Maybe because the carriage stopped.

Glancing over at Will and trying to move ends with her flopping over on him on accident. Whatever.] 'S hard words to say. You can't do better.

[Pause.] In other stuff. Other talking.

[If it helps, he doesn't even care that she's rolled on top. Gone from staring at idiots to staring up at nothing while listening to Ange's answer. Decipher. Then she clarifies and the meaning his flawlessly. And he answers in complete deadpan.

Something. She wouldn't be able to translate it, or even make sense of it, since it's doubtful she's even heard such a ridiculously old dialect of spoken Hebrew. Then it follows with something else, not as old but it can be pinned easily as Latin. Then French. German. Italian. Russian. Swedish. Chinese. Catalan. There's a few others streamed in flawlessly before ending in perfectly enunciated English.]

'See you in hell'.

[And mimicking her salute is the final straw for the poor confused civvies, since they're out and gone without a second glance. He leans his head back enough to watch them go, but doesn't do anything else. Laying and doing nothing sounds good for now.]

[That is a lot of words. And she gets it at...some point. Maybe the end. Who knows. But Ange gets it and doesn't even notice storming people because whatever they are gone. That is yay.

Reaction, though?]

...Like onii-chan. [Said flat and deadpan. Insults are good. Though now there is some yelling dude yelling shouty things and he was probably driving the carriage or something but he is loud and shouty. Ange blinks at him.

Huh.

Anyway back to Will.]

...That was fun.

[There's a blink at the name, and it takes another good few seconds to put together that she called him Battler. Normally, it would be enough to him mad and deck her in the shoulder just hard enough to almost knock her off a barstool.

Right now, it earns moping. Which would've lasted longer if not for some guy and ugh why is he so loud and when did he get upside-down?

Will just waves at him in that dismissive way that, no matter what language, always translates to the mannerly 'fuck off'.] Ah. Noisy now. But was.

[Oh he's cute moping. But it's hard when a guy is still mad. Ange swings a leg around at him and even if she's drunk, she's still flexible and capable enough that minus not actually hitting him, it's a good threat. Between scary American and ninja hooker, the guy just goes off to find some police.

Flopping back over on him.] ...Better? [Minus the soreness. Ange really doesn't want to move but then again this isn't comfortable either.] ...Uhm, bed.

[Not a hooker.]

[He just kind of watches with all the care of. Uh. A person who doesn't care. Though that guy's freaked out expression before he books it sends off orders through instinct again. That's the face one makes before they get cops and then everything is less fun and involves sobering in police cells.

No way man.] ...Should. What is... leave. Should leave. Bed works.

[In that seedy hotels are good because seedy hotels also mean no cops. Not even sparing a single brain cell's thought to hooker jokes, so there's one positive for Ange's dignity.]

[The Man always bringing down...people who shouldn't be brought down. Sucks. Ange groans as she sits up again and rubs her head to make the worse stop moving so much. But she stumbles out of the carriage like a drunk pro and glances up at the building for a moment. That was a sweet dive. Nice distance.

She nods in silent approval to the building. Thank you, building, for being awesome. But they must cheese it from the fuzz.]

Uhm...it's...this way. [Grabbing Will's sleeve and tugging. They get to look like an extra mess when they go back today. Her hookerdom is mighty.]

[At least his dislodging from a destroyed carriage is a bit more graceful. The only thing that throws off that he's drunk at all is the faint swaying when he stands. That, and the jumping off a building. Then Ange is sending an honorable farewell or something to the building, which is probably like some kind of unwritten law? She probably has charts if he asks.

Not like it matters since she's already carting him off, and all he manages off is a tired wave. One of the passerby thinks it's at them and waves back. Ah. How nice. People with manners is always a nice thing.]

You sure? [Because he has no idea, and if they get caught there is going to be Problems. Lots of them.]

[While she has experience in jumping off buildings, Ange has never done so while drunk. So her chart would say you only honour it while drunk. It would say this because her charts generally only translate to people who are drunk.]

Probably. Yeah. [Because Ange does make it home somehow right? It's just easier to half-drag Will because it helps her focus. They have to go homeish so it's focus. Yes. Though she suddenly giggles.] ...Yeah, it's fun...

[Doing crazy reckless shit.]

[Whatever man, as long as she has charts, any arguments are invalid unless they have their own charts to present. But even then, it's a shot in the dark. Ange's charts are a miracle, flawlessly crafted and with perfect research documentation.

But whatever, Ange is doing the part with the dragging and the focusing, which means she knows where she's going. Hopefully. If not, it means more adventures, and he still gets to zone out and put no effort into internal maps or saving the day or generally anything other than chasing Ange's words. It's easier without other stuff in the way.]

Mm. Was. [Fun. The reckless shit. Total agreement, too bad it wasn't higher.]

[Someday Ange will gather all the drunks and speak to them in motivating charts and they will rise up as her personal army. Or something like that.

Right now her only goal is stumbling back to the hotel. Though she is totally on the same page as Will on that thought.] Hey. Bigger next time.

[How or what or if she will remember that in ten minutes is a mystery for all. Only the most winning ideas here.

And they do make it to the hotel without more adventures at least, which is probably for the best, because Ange is starting to feel sore. Ugh, good thing there's alcohol in her room thing. The hotel employees wave at their resident hooker and her apparent favourite client or owner. Ange waves back even. They're good people. She forgets they think she's a hooker sometimes.

Except then the door defeats her. Ange frowns. Why won't the key go in. She's hitting the keyhole more or less. Stupid door. Kicking it isn't making the key work either. Maybe she has to turn the key or something.]

...Sure. [Bigger sounds awesome. Though they'll probably both forget it and only remember next week and do something even dumber, but eh. Worst that'll happen is they die. ...Wait that's bad. ... Whatever.

And at least he's enough of a regular to be able to pass off a half-salute half-greeting to the guy at the counter and have it returned. Then remaining silent a bit as the hooker tries to mess with the door and the workers go about their usual "oh, must be saturday now" routine.

Then about a minute in is when he realizes they're still in a hallway and Ange's getting defeated by the door. How dare it do such a thing. Locking a girl out of her own apartment, it's heresy. And Ange's only warning is when he tugs her a bit out of the way with one hand, then introducing the door to the feeling of getting a fist through its surface, strong enough to split it clear off the hinges if it didn't decide to take an arm prisoner.

Still doesn't help, since a body check is enough to send the pieces over, then walking in like he didn't just utterly destroy a door most would have problems. That's what it gets for locking people out. Day's work in slaying sinners, yes.]

[Ange jumps at the sudden suddenness of...the door opening. Oh hey the door is open now. That sure is convenient. Stupid key and lock thing. She blinks at the door remains as she follows him in.] You're really good at stuff...

[Oh wait she should shut the door.

A chair is put in front of it and Ange vaguely props up the door chunks. There. Closedish.]

Bed. ...Alcohol, too. [Because she is sore. Grabbing a bottle from a cupboard and flopping onto the bed.]

[That first compliment earns the same reaction as the last time she threw one - just kind of. Staring. Then forgetting what she said in the first place or not bothering for a reaction, and then staking claim and ownership of the floor. He will fight anyone that says otherwise.

Oh hey, when did the door get fixed? Witch door. Evil witch door. But they're inside now so the door can be a witch if it makes it happy. Just kill it again later.]

Mn. Night. [Since the only thing he heard muffled from her was 'bed', which means he assumes she's passing out. As long as he keeps the floor and that witch door stays quiet and there's no cops. Everything's awesome.]

[Ange is more or less on the verge of passing out. Drinking more alcohol because that will help the pain and she's halfway off the bed because aiming was hard but oh well. She doesn't know there's a witch door but she'd punch it maybe if she did. No that is effort.

Though she does have a thought that seems important to share. Except it's instantly replaced by something about tempura and Ange gives up. Waving her hand and the other drops the bottle gently - and thankfully upright - on the ground.] Night, Blue.

[She'll remember names later.]

Will. [Said with the absentmindedness of someone used to correcting people getting his name wrong, but not even realizing he did it. Then there's the sound of a dull thud, which - must be because of that witch door - because he's on the ground, is a lot louder than it should be, and a glance is spared to Ange.

Half-sprawled on a bed and passing out. And a large part says to just leave her there and pass out on the ground, but automated movements bring the rest. Rising, rolling her over enough to be on the inside edge of the bed, a consideration so she doesn't roll off and get eaten by the floor, and dislodging just enough of her blankets to throw them on top of her.

All in all, it looks like she just took the nearest blanket and passed out on top of a bed, but it appeases something or other. Latched onto a blanket is better than falling off and getting... something. Probably the witch door. Rotten witch door.

But that's good enough to appease a conscience and let him pass out on the floor at the foot of her bed. Not as uncomfortable as you'd think.]

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