Ew, bad booze (Patrick)

[Kate]

What was with her and the roof lately? It use to be her spot to chill, way back in New York. Back in the day, back at the place where it allllllll began. Where everything had started. Well, at least most of the important moments in her life had been. So maybe this roof reminded her of that one. Maybe it was already holding some memories in it, or maybe she wanted to make some memories on it. She smiled slightly to herself, and listened to her heels click on the stairs up toward the roof.

Kate was wearing her normal set of dark greens, topped with a deep blue silk shirt. It had capped sleeves, and large buttons up the front. It was cut to hug her frame the way it was, and show off her curves. A slender silver belt hung around her high waist, then connected to a similar silver chain belt around her hips. An odd look maybe, but Kate liked it. Her hair was curled and loose about her shoulders. Silver heels completed the look.

She opened the door, took a deep breath and almost stumbled to a stop. What the hell was that smell?

"Eww... Bad, cheap booze..."

[Patrick O'Connor]

The roof. Patrick's hangout and class skipping spot. It had been since he was a freshman in New York for all those years. It had been in 259. So who was to say that this would ever be any different? The irish man, however had been on here for more then a few hours. He had actually been here all night too. It was evident by the vomit and the beer bottles that littered the top of the roof. All night had been spent drinking and half of today passed out. The irish teen had a splitting headache from the night's binge fest. But in all honesty it was worth it. The pain kept him from thinking about the more pressing memmory of the past. It was only the stupors, the hangovers or the brief moments of fighting and violence that over rode the pain of memory.

But there were times when even the hangovers were not enough. It was for that reason that once again Patrick was drinking, again. On the otherside of the door's exit, so out of view from anyone that would exit. He wanted to be in peace. He wanted to be alone in his misery. To work on his liver failure alone. But apparently that was not to be...

"Eww... Bad, cheap booze..."

Good Patrick thought. Maybe she would leave. He took another swig of cheap booze before...

His head instintivly turned to the left and he vomited again spraying chunks of bile everywhere but on himself, luckily...

[Kate]

The smell!! Oh god, what the hell was wrong on this roof? Beer bottles and vomit, that's what. The blonde looked around, her nose wrinkling. The smell was so horrible, it made her want to puke. However, something caught her attention, which was puke suddenly spraying right next to her feet. Right next to her pretty silver heels that she loved so much.

"What the hell man?!!? Why the fuck are you drinking on campus?!?!"

Never mind the fact that once upon a time, she had done the same thing with Mathew. Wooo boy had that been an interesting night!! Kate strode toward him, a huge scowl straight on those full lips of hers. She dodged the vomit spots and kicked beer bottles out of her way. Did Kate really care about the school grounds? Oh hell no! Instead, she was just really annoyed and wanted to beat the shit out of this guy.

"Get your lazy ass up, you're cleaning up your mess you fucking bum!!"

She went to grab his shirt and haul him to his feet. And if he puked on her? She'd chuck him off the roof and call it an accident. Or get a really good lawyer.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"What the hell man?!!? Why the fuck are you drinking on campus?!?!"

Her voice was like playing the timpani on his head. She was so loud! And what was her problem anyway?! She could up and leave at any point she wanted. She was the only one here who was making a scene out of anything. She could leave and she wouldnt have to deal with this and then, more importantly, he wuoldn't have to deal with her pms fit. So in turn Patrick replied with a question of his own in groggy irish accent, "And why the hell are ye so loud?"

Then She came up to hem and dragged him to his feet. She demanded that he clean up his mess and she called him a bum. That last part though was the funny wone. Truth was, he was little better then a bum. In fact, he lived out of his pick up truck. Why? Even Patrick didn't know as locked up in the back was enough money and guns to arm a small rebel nation. Likely though it was a form of ascetisism, self punishment. But anyway upon her lifting him up to his feet he would wobble and crash right back down, unable to stand up, falling down forward and to her right.

Thus lying face down he would mumble, barely audible , "Stop making a bloody scene."

[Kate]

If he wanted her to make a scene, then she damn well would. Kate could make a scene real well. Despite the fact that no one else was really on the roof... she'd make a scene just for the two of them to remember. She picked him up, and he had stumbled back down.

"I can make a scene real quick."

And with that Kate would begin. He was drunk and out of it, unable to barely stand. What was Kate's reaction? Help him up and make him ALL better? Fuck that shit. Kate was gunna beat the holy crap out of him. She lifted a leg, and slammed the heel down on his chest. Those suckers could hurt like a bitch and she knew it.

"Stupid drunk."

She'd kick him over and over until he did something about it.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"I can make a scene real quick."

'Damn lass,' Patrick thought to himself. He didn't ask her to clean him up and make him all better. He didn't need her to do that either. He didn't give a shit about anyone's help. They way he figured help was for the weak. If anyone couldn't hack it then they should die as far as Patrick was concerned, himself included. He knew this activity was dangerous, considering his reputation that was slowly building, he knew that he was vulnerable. But really? He didn't give a damn. Anything to keep his mind of the pain of existence. The pain of reality, the pain of truth. And the cold hard truth was that life, like this girl, was a bitch. Cold and uncaring, you open yourself up to anything and you could, would and should get burned for it. There was only the pleasure principle at play. Do what makes you feel good. If killing gets your rocks off, go right ahead. If stealing does go ahead. Hell even other people were good for kicks, go out and have sex if you felt like it. The only real rule was don't get close to everyone and keep your shit together. That's all there was to to life.

Now that made life very cynical and bleak for Patrick but hell everyone has a perspective and from his that was everyone, deep down or on the surface. But regardless he could care less whether he lived or died and frankly death would be preferable in his opinion, he just want going to go jump off a building though. He would fight like hell right up until the very end, and then go quietly into that goodnight.

As such, when she started kicking, or stomping on him he was a little pissed off. For a brief second he wondered what would piss her off more. He briefly entertained the idea of taking the beating because she blatantly wanted a reaction. He decided that he'd rather not though. So instead he put his left arm up and let her stomp him once more until grabbing her leg with his left hand, driving his nails into the flesh behind her shin. The with his right hand he would smash a beer bottle into her knee. How had he gotten a bottle? simple his hand had grasped one at his side as he had tried to grab her leg. Amidst all this the drunken Patrick couldn't help but notice something.

"Can't a bloody drunk even get a bit o bloody peace?"

[Kate]

He finally reacted, grabbing her leg. Kate noted that he had a decent grip, at least for a drunk who was out of it. Kate grinned just a bit more, her blood was starting to heat. She knew that there was a fight to be had. And she was just itching for said fight. The blonde grinned and put her weight forward, crushing the heel of her shoe into his chest further. She flipped some blonde hair over her shoulder and kept on grinning down at him.

"Of course not. You puked all over my hangout spot. That's not helping your case in the least bit."

More force behind the crushing movement, that had nothing to do with her weight and everything to do with how strong she was. Kate licked her lips... what a night this would be. Her left arm shot out and deflected the hand with a bottle, since she was leaning over. Her blow was to his hand, and rather harsh. No breaking her skin.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Well screw the bottle. That hadn't worked. She exerted more force down on his chest but really, he could care less. It hurt and pissed him off but it would take far more to break him. There was no one alive who could and to think that she could, well that was a joke. She thought he was easy pickings it would seem. If she thought that then think again, true, he was drunk, but that didn't make him any less of a threat, in fact it probably made him more of a threat. Drunk he cared less about life, if that was possible. Now dont get me wrong he was not suicidal but he didn't care if he died, in fact that was probably best. He wouldn't go to death willingly but nor would he be ungrateful. Death was a final escape for him. An escape from so much pain that he bore. But anyway back to the point drunk he was less likely to care about physical damage he took and more about the damage he inflicted upon his opponent.

His original plan messed up he knew he had to come up with another one. And as previously discussed it was based on causing the one on top of him, heh, ontop, the most pain possible. Anyway drunken sex references aside it was not time to lolliegag. Time for action. What action? Patrick Hucked the bottle in his right hand at the face of the woman as hard as possible. Did he imagine it hitting? No, not really but if it did cool. He imagined if anything it would get her to stand up straighter. Mainly for distraction though as after the bottle left his hand he would roll to the left while trying the hit the side of her knee with his right palm. Rolling into this gave him two distinct advantages, one it would put her offbalance, furthering the effects of throwing the bottle and two it would put more power into the blow.

Now his idea, or at least whatever one could concievably call his thought process was to hold on to the leg with his left hand pushing left as he hit with the right. He meant to hold it in place. Weird that he would seemingly hold the leg in place that was pinning him down huh? Well this goes back to the "cause-the-other=person-more-pain-while-I'm-drunk" clause. With the sudden jostle of movement Patrick meant very much to knock her off balance to make her body less prepared to take the attack to the side of the knee, be it inside or out. He meant to break her knee. That was his aim at this point, above getting out of the hold and he figured he had a pretty good chance if he held it with his left. Well if not breaking it at least damaging the knee to the point that it ended the fight, or at least severely hampered her ability to do so. He aimed at the side of the knee because it was weak and therefore vunerable. It didn't matter how strong you were or how tough, the side of the knee was weak and prone to buckling or possibly breaking it if you hit it hard enough.

Patrick would, after hitting her in the knee, provided it was successful get to his feet and give himself some distance...

[Kate]

Oh here we go again. Instead of standing up straighter Kate merely flinched her hand up, taking the bottle to the hand instead of the face. It cut her a bit, and there was a bit of blood. But instead of a deep cut, it was just a mere sting. Nothing to be worried about in this moment. And as for him jostling her off balance? It was a simple trick of throwing her weight to the other leg, taking the pressure suddenly off his chest so that her weight was supposed else where.

And him striking at her knee? Maybe the normal person would buckle. Maybe the normal person's knee would damn well break. However, the normal person was not Kate McHallin, and didn't have her Qi. Which she loved to use of course. Who wouldn't? He struck her knee, and there was a sudden SNAP even as he got distance away from her.

The blonde laughed, reached down and snapped her knee back into place with another nasty snap. The pale woman picked up several of the bottles lying around. He wanted to chuck things at her? She'd return the favor. It began to rain broken glass as Kate threw the bottles straight at the drunken male.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Patrick had had enough of this. The entire thing was starting to piss him off. He couldn't drink in peace this girl was being a bitch whatever. The haze in the Irish man's mind was beginning to cloud over judgements, in a very bad way. That, was never a good thing. Anger, hate and rage was quickly replaced, however with her laughing. Looking to investigate Patrick saw nothing. He couldn't understand. He had broken her knee apart. Why was she laughing? Before Patrick could get any angrier he watched her as she took on a new action. One that brushed away all of those emotions in interest. She reached down and what? snapped her leg back into place.

It was Patrick's turn to laugh. And laugh he did. It was funny, incredibly funny, "How, very interesting ye are."

Fairly uncoordinated Patrick walked backwards. She was incredibly interesting. Patrick loved this. He hadn't felt this in so long. He actually wanted to fight her, sober. No, not as the norm these days. Not to hurt or maim her but to fight and enjoy it. To enjoy the thrill of a fight. It used to be one of the most fun things that he could experience. It used to be freeing. For a brief moment Patrick thought back to those happy days. That day with Samson when they had a fight of epic proportions in front of the school 552. No one knew why they had fought with such passion. They fought with a fervor of enemies but they loved eachother as brothers. It was foreign to 552. They could not look past fighting as a reason to release hate. But for those two it had been freeing for a breif moment. The challenge. Patrick wanted to feel that again because him and this girl, were similiar.

Patrick Reached his destination as she had cocked her first bottle. With a grin he said, "We'll meet again, and fight. For the first time in a long time I want to fight for the thrill of the challenge. It will be interesting, because we are so similiar."

Clouded by the booze, his judgement was off. This was obvious as the bottles missed him, as he fell from the roof he jumped from. At the very least he had the common sense to aim for the grass as well as land feet first with knees and legs bent. It was probably the worst idea he had come up with for awhile but at the very least he was lucky enough to be able to walk away, a slight limp of course but still. He had more important things to do now, like getting sober...