Champion of bad ideas (Casey)

[Josie Raines]

Backdated August 17th, 2014

Josie woke up, and that was probably her first mistake. At some point in the night, somebody had gone and hammered a row of nails into her skull, one temple round to the other... or at least, it certainly felt like it.

Okay, maybe her first mistake was of the bottled variety.

Despite her spinning head and roiling stomach, Josie was eventually able to steady herself enough to get out of bed. Except... this wasn't her bed. It wasn't even a bed; it was a couch.

Whatever, hold it down. Aspirin first, questions later. No, clothes first, then aspirin, then questions, Josie decided as she realized exactly how clothed she was. Which was to say, not very.

It took a bit of weary searching, and ignoring the way she drowned in the too-big shirt she pulled on over her undies, but Josie got there eventually. "There" being semi-clothed and with the growing realization that this was not her apartment.

"Oh fuck," Josie groaned, pressing a hand to her aching forehead. "Fuck."

Maybe it was the hangover robbing her of her usual eloquence.

[Casey Snyder]

''Well look at this.'' He said from the other room as he suddenly appeared in the door opening in his work pants and without a shirt, revealing the plethora of tattoos he had on his chest. Case looked at the woman as he juggled a knife in his hand and smirked as he took a bite from the plain sandwich in the other. ''The bitch finally decided to wake up. 'Bout time you got the fuck up.'' He said as he looked at her. ''Need the space.'' He said as he promptly turned around to get something from the other room and returned with a cardboard box.

He walked past her and sat down on the couch, putting down the box on the small stool before him. ''Still warm.'' He said as he stuck his knife into the box and slid it open to reveal a painted up gastank. Just what he needed. He took it out carefully as he threw the knife on the couch and slammed the box to the side to make place for the tank as he put it down.

''Look at the fuckin' beauty.'' He said as he looked at the tank and briefly at Josie. ''Come on,'' He snapped his fingers at her. ''wake up.''

[Josie Raines]

Josie's confusion was short-lived before memories began resurfacing; specifically, memories of this rude asshole being, well, a rude asshole.

“Oh jesus, not you....” What the fuck had she been thinking? How did winding up here ever seem like a good idea? That knife was looking mighty tempting, the way her head was pounding. “Either gimme some tylenol or just stab me and get it over with.”

Pants, pants, where had her pants gone... She'd been wearing shorts last night, right? She'd have to find those next, no way was she going home without them. But before Josie could begin the search, the still nameless man plunked a box down on the table and himself on the couch. Whatever was in it, Josie didn't particularly care - she just wanted to go home.

When he'd sliced the box open and revealed its contents, she recognized it as a gas tank – but then again, most people would. Most people would also probably wonder what he was doing with it in what was apparently his living room.

“Get out of my face,” Josie shot back weakly. Neither his finger snapping nor his insistence that she wake up was doing anything for her headache. “Where's my phone? I need to call a cab.” And the sooner, the better.

[Casey Snyder]

''You killed your phone.'' He said with a snap of his neck. ''You were PMS-ing or some shit and threw that fucker. And people say women can't throw.'' He continued as he kept on looking at the gas tank in front of him and looked closely, turning it upside down and from side to side even as he listened to the walking stick talk about tylenol and stabbig after she had compared him to jesus.

Though what she had said before, although not all that much of an attention grabber at first did get him to look away from the tank when the coin had finally landed on the right spot. He got up from the couch and walked over to her and grinned while towering over her, nearly jamming her face against his chest. ''I need to get out of your face..?'' He repeated slowly. ''You fucking wake up at my place, and you have the nerve to tell me to fuck off?!''

He turned around and kicked the box the gas tank came in before suddenly reaching for the knife on the couch. ''Know what we do to drunk little fucks like you..?'' He licked his lips and threw the knife at the wall beside her where it planted itself inside firmly. ''We fuck them. Let them sleep at our place. And, demand, some, fucking, respect!''

''Hey Casey, sleep okay? Hey Casey, I had a fun night. Hey Casey, you were great.'' He pretended in a mock voice. ''Hey, little miss sugar tits, how is your fucking hangover?!'' He made sure to say that last bit as loudly as possible.

[Josie Raines]

Nothing like the threat of imminent violence to sober a girl up in a snap. Inches from her shoulder, the knife thrummed slightly, wedged into the wall with enough force that it vibrated upon impact. Josie's back went rigid, hands stiffened. Her head throbbed, his volume stabbing into her temples as thoroughly as the knife into the wall. She sure knew how to pick 'em, didn't she?

"I can't throw your dick a party if I don't remember anything," Josie snapped. Probably a bad idea - she had no idea whether this asshole enjoyed threatening one night stands for kicks or if he might actually go berserk, and surely it would be smarter to treat him as though he were capable of the latter. But fuck this guy, who the hell did he think he was? Which is why it was more fear than anger that drew her hand up, wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife, and jerked it from the drywall. If push came to shove maybe it would be enough to defend herself.

"Now, Casey," she began, eyes leveled onto his; the light and her hangover forced her to squint somewhat, but maybe that would only help her look menacing. "How about you call me a cab, so I can get the fuck out of your life."

[Casey Snyder]

She was amusing him, amusing him in the way that one could amuse a psychotic bastard who knew nothing more than curse words and replaced affection with materialism. So when she yanked the knife he had thrown into the wall next to her out and held it to her side he broke out a little devious smile; as if she was going to use it. He'd welcome it really, because what he didn't quite realize but had seen hints of is that she needed some kind of relief. He wouldn't ever acknowledge the fact people could be in dips from time to time but that was more out of self preservation than anything else. So when she broke her own phone someone else would have picked up on her frustration, but not Casey. No, he was too preoccupied with himself to notice anything but his own needs. That and angered people got him going.

But what was said next got a real laugh out of him, she wanted him to call her a cab so she could get out of his life, what he assumed was a metaphor for the garage he lived in. ''Yeah, and while I do that you can sober up and- my house!'' He shouted. Who was she to tell him to call her a cab, let alone tell him to do anything at all? Sure she could have a knife at the moment so that could make her feel a bit more confident but Casey had a fucking gas tank. He didn't want to see it scratched or anything but he wouldn't be above hitting her with it if it came to it.

''I am not gonna do anything for you. So I suggest you hold tight and let me do my thing or stab me right now and get it over with.'' He pointed at the knife in her hand. ''If you do decide to stab me, make sure you have no other plans for the day because I will stab you back.'' He grinned as he let the gas tank alone and slowly stepped over to her, nearing the wall and maybe even forcing her to back up to it. ''But if you decide to let me do my thing, I will give you a ride and a new phone.''

He slammed his hand against the wall and smirked. ''Speaking of a ride..''