ITP: LARS DEALS WITH STRESS POORLY (A SHOCKER)

[mossbuds]

Who: Lars and YOUUUUUU
When: S1:D41 morning, afternoon and late night
Where: 1) home trailer, 2) ferriswheel, 3) misc right
What: Lars gets his first changes! And also, loses his mind a little! He's shaken up by changes, and also the events from the Matrix finale.
Warnings: As always, Lars's potty mouth. But also, booze?????

BTW i will mimic format- so if you wanna do prose or action either's cool


➨ 1. Holy Fuck Not This Shit (closed to Strange)
Lars wakes groggily, feeling exhausted. His sleep schedule's all fucked up—he hasn't been able to sleep well since the shooting at the Big Top, and not having work to drag his ass out of bed just makes the problem worse. Miserable as he is, on top of sleepless nights, it's so easy to just stay in bed all day. But even for Lars, it's been a lot of sleep.

Having concluded his 13 hours of recent sleep around 2pm, Lars finally pushes himself up. He then realizes his mouth feels—weird. He moves his tongue in his mouth, which feels too full, and finds his teeth feel... thinner. Horrified and suddenly very awake, Lars lurches forward, parting his mouth a little bit to touch his teeth—which are all thin, long and sharp, doubled in number.

In response, Lars lets out a pretty long, shrill scream.



➨ 2. Drown Your Sorrows (or Don't)
It has been a pretty dang shitty couple of weeks. Besides having his second harrowing near death encounter with Steven, wherein he was almost shot one or nine times, that which Lars has been anticipating with dread for several weeks has finally occurred. After following up the horrifying discovery of his first transformation with an undoubtedly infuriating exchange with his annoying roommate, Lars has decided to finally get the hell out of the trailer, for better or for worse.

Overwhelmed with despair, anxiety and this momentary anger, Lars decides to follow some very stupid advice, because he's completely at a loss. He doesn't have any friends here—besides Steven, who Lars wouldn't want to unload on (he has trouble opening up to even his best friends; he wasn't about to make a kid listen to that), and he doesn't have any sufficient distractions for his rapid firing Gen X brain. So after a few cursory inquiries, Lars gets to the cook house. And with entitled confidence, he swipes a bottle of liquor, but does wait until he's positive he won't really be caught.

He shoves into his bomber jacket side, zipping it, and squeezes it in place with his elbow as he storms out. Kind of following another thread of advice, Lars heads for the ferris wheel. It's currently unmanned, since it's off week, and Lars abuses his POWER OF KEYS!! to open up the gate around it and clamber into one of the low hanging carriages.

There, he shoves himself down on the seat, scowling. He fishes out the bottle, grumbling as he screws off the cap of it, his head a dumb echo chamber of self pity—and naturally, follows that up with a swig of what appears to be some heavy, brown liquor. His eyes immediately go wide and he sputters, only managing to swallow half his swig before he spits the rest out gracelessly. This dissolves into a bunch of coughing and a hard, full body shudder as Lars winces his eyes shut, hiding his mouth behind his sleeve as he attempts to recover.

Whyyyy do people drink this shit, actually?????



➨ 3. Panic! At the Center Stage
Having failed miserably at unwinding his tension that day, and having woken up rather late, Lars is wide awake and anxious around midnight. He made it back to his trailer earlier in the night, but is feeling restless again. He gets up, grabs his bomber and abruptly departs again.

He decides going for a walk—a sober walk (not that he'd even gotten drunk) at night in the crisp air might soothe his brain a little bit. Well, maybe. So he just anxiously strolls about at a quick, unrelated pace, his arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket with stiff, uncomfortable posture. As he's walking, he feels himself actually begin to get worse—he increases the pace of his steps to a jog as he feels his heart race for no reason.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he begins to run, veering away from the center stage in a hurry. He stops somewhere near the misc right, winded, and rests his palms on top of his knees as he hangs his head. Once he kind of catches his breath, he hiccups a little with a small sob, chin dimpling. He straightens up, putting his hands over his face as he takes a deep breath, trying to get himself to calm down so he doesn't cry in public like a complete fuckin' baby.

[ooc: for reference, he looks like this!]

Comments

2

[pipers_son]

Unfortunately for Lars, the Ferris Wheel- whether it's in operation or not- is one of Joker's favorite places to be ever since he first got the hang of flying. It's still in the carnival grounds, so he can respond to anything that needs his supervisor attention immediately, but it's high up enough that he knows he doesn't have to really worry about anyone bothering him. After all, he's pretty sure that, right now, the only other people who have wings or the ability to fly in the carnival... well, he can count it on one hand, which is good, because it's only one hand he's got.

Honestly he's just trying to catch a nap on one of the higher carriages when he hears the gate being open, and he leans over curiously just in time to see a lanky figure hustling in. Even from this height, Joker can tell from his posture that the kid is smuggling something. Hey, he used to do the same, once upon a time, although... He's not entirely sure this kid's little bit of theft and his theft are the same.

Ah, hell.... As a supervisor, he should probably do something about this, shouldn't he? Still, Joker gives him a couple of minutes before he finally gets up to flutter out of the carriage, gliding down onto the ground. Lars will be able to hear the flutter of wings a moment before Joker comes into view, landing smoothly and raising an eyebrow at the youth while he smiles.

Oh, so that's why he came down here. Joker recognizes that bottle.

"Y'know, when yer gonna get drunk, s'usually best ta do it in yer trailer. Less chance of bein' bothered, and ya don't have ta stumble drunk through the carnival and get inta who knows what kinda trouble."

[mossbuds]

Lars tenses when he hears the flutter of wings—it's not difficult to figure out that it's probably some carny who's sprouted flight capable extremities, and that he's caught. He resigns himself to it immediately with a guttural sigh and a roll of his eyes, wiping his mouth. While he's at it, he thumbs the corner of his eyes—choking on the scotch made him tear up, a little.

"Less chance of bein' bothered, except when you live with a frickin' lunatic," Lars retorts. Strange would likely leave him to his business and wouldn't interfere with Lars drinking, even if Lars wasn't a sneak about it—but Lars is just chafed by his earlier interaction with Strange. Not that he's ever anything but chafed with Strange, but this time it's more emotional and personal for Lars, being so vain and thus so wounded by his transformation.

[pipers_son]

“That does put a dent in things,” Joker says lazily, leaning against the carriage with no particular hurry. “Still. S’the point of the matter. That’s why makin’ friends is good here, if ya can find folks who don’t mind lettin’ ya sleep the worst of it off.” And he’s pretty sure anyone who’s absconded with a whole bottle usually needs to sleep the worst of it off.

“But…” And he takes a good look at Lars, in all his new changes. Joker isn’t exactly a known acquaintance, but it’s a small carnival. You see people around, and he’s pretty sure this is a familiar face with a few unfamiliar bits, now. “I suppose when yer still a bit new, that takes a little time.”

[mossbuds]

Before his last statement, Lars looks off uncomfortably, kind of fiddling with the neck and lip of the bottle. Lars is a lot of things—lacking in charisma, kindness, chill... All the things that tend to make friendships blossom. He's never had an easy time making friends—much less maintaining them. But he doesn't feel like dragging himself about it out loud for this stranger to hear, especially while he's drinking in self pity, miserable and lonely.

"Yeah," he kinda grunts out, pressing his thumb a bit more firmly against the lip as he stares at the bottle, gritting his teeth with a scowl. "And the only person I know from home is like, 12, I think—so that ain't right."

Steven's someone he can't really relate to, besides. Even if they were the same age, Lars wouldn't feel comfortable crashing with him like that.

[pipers_son]

"Well, never said they had ta be friends y'know from home, now, did I?" But he's feeling a bit bad for the kid. Clearly he's a mess, because only messes grab bottles and run away to drink them alone in a ferris wheel carriage.

Hell. He'll do him a favor. Some people got to take the first step, and Joker isn't particularly cruel. He offers his hand, wooden fingers outstretched.

"Joker, stage manager, at yer service. We haven't met proper."

[mossbuds]

Lars blinks, staring at the articulation of the wooden hand, then glances up at Joker. Lars decides it's creepy—but also pretty cool, so he humors the kind gesture, but frowns as he takes the hand. Lars gives him a firm, but uncertain shake (could he even really feel it?).

"Yeah, think I've kinda seen you around. I'm Lars; one'a the Psiionic's jockeys."

[pipers_son]

If anyone ever asked Joker that outright instead of just wondering, he could probably answer that he does, but it’s a strange, weird, and new sensation that can’t quite be described. Most don’t, however, so he’s never seen reason to chatter on about it. Instead, he snorts.

“And has he driven ya ta drink already?”

[mossbuds]

"Not really. I mean, he's annoying, but not enough t'drive me t'drink."

Lars kind of idly plays with the bottle, wondering just what the hell he's doing, in a bizarre moment of clarity. The thought is actually kind of upsetting, compound on the rest of his feelings. His brows knit, and his cheeks burn; he feels stupid.

"It's this place."

[pipers_son]

….Ah. Joker’s expression softens a bit. Yeah, he gets that. A lot of the new faces have had to deal with that, and with recent events being what they are, well, he can’t really blame them. Still, damn. They were supposed to move past all of that, weren’t they?

“Care ta talk about it, if ya don’t have interest in drinkin’?” His head nods down to the bottle that Lars is still holding in one hand. "Or do ya need a place ta sleep off what you've had so far?"