Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Ya sure about this?" That familiar toxin-rough voice was incredulous; it was the most inflection Leech has ever heard in it. "Ya said it didn't matter, if it was healthy...?"

Leech sighs, glancing away as he debates his words. The apartment looks no different than it usually does; sparsely furnished, it requires only those things they need and not even all of that. The one discordant element in these monk-like surroundings is the pile of white powder sitting atop a record cover in front of them.

"This's good wine," he says, ignoring Ruckus' words. "Cabernet?"

"Merlot, I think. Cheap Merlot."

"Oh. Well, it's still good."

Ruckus makes a noise of assent. He will not meet Leech's eyes; he is polishing his gun. Leech peers at the older man for a long moment then gives up and leans forward. Grasping the razor's edge between petite fingertips, he begins to draw the powdered substance out into lines expertly. Ruckus watches him passively; the tension in the man's body is clearly discernible by the set of his shoulders, the line of his back. But he says nothing. Within moments, Leech has crafted the cocaine into a recognizable shape. Rather than insufflating the substance, he leans back.

"What's that look like?"

Ruckus tilts his head and squints to better discern the shape. "An...elephant?"

"Yes," Leech replies in a softer voice. "It's a white elephant."

Ruckus stares at his lover; after all the years they've known each other, he cannot always read him. Ruckus is the one with elusive metaphors. Rather than hunt for the meaning, he moves on.

"Should we try that absinthe Dust brought back from France?"

Leech shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. He is tucking into himself, a defensive posture. "Why not. We haven' done it before, always room fer a new experience."

"Always." Ruckus moves across the tiny kitchen. He opens the freezer. He retrieves the illegal liquid, a spoon, and some sugar cubes. Then he returns to the shabby coffee table.

Setting about the complex process of distilling the viscous green substance, Leech watches him. He switches his gaze after a moment to the blank television - it is broken, no colors will ever leave it again. Eventually, he turns his attention to Ruckus' actions as the older man offers him a small glass.

Taking a sip, Leech cannot help but wrinkle his pixie nose at the taste. Ruckus, drinking as well, does not seem to notice the other man's discomfort.

"That's not as bad as I thought it'd be," he says.

"No," Leech agrees, staring at the glass bleakly. "Worse."

Scowling faintly, Ruckus turns to look at his companion. "What's yer ********' problem?"

For an answer, he gets a shrug.

"I thought we agreed it was best to get rid of it. It won't do us any good."

"We did agree," Leech concedes. "Don' you think we should move before winter? Gets cold in here..."

"So why are you actin' like this?" Ruckus ignores that last banal comment. Leech gives another shrug. "Jesus, kid. Yer impossible."

"That's right," Leech agrees listlessly. Ruckus sighs.

"Do you want to keep--"

"No. We'll get rid of it. Anyone else will take it. Someone will be thrilled to have Oliver."

"You named the thing?" Ruckus' rough tone is incredulous.

"Of course. It's not right fer a tiny creature like that, orphaned, with no one in the world to care for it, to at least not have a name."

Ruckus can hear the waver in the younger man's voice, and turns his face away. He seethes. "Leech, it's just a stray. It's lucky to be alive at all. But here? In our situation? We couldn't give it what it needs."

"No," Leech says, placid once more.

Ruckus nods once, intending to capitalize on Leech's moment of doubt. "Then first thing this morning - no, tonight - we'll go to the shelter. Someone'll take it.

"Yes."

Taking a deep breath to calm his rising impatience, Ruckus counts to ten. "This's important to you? You wanna keep it."

"I can't," Leech states flatly.

"If you want it, then we will. If that's what you want. I just thought we'd agreed."

"We don't have the money to feed it."

"We'll find money. We can go without absinthe, or beer, or even coke. The food won't cost that much. If ya want it, it's yers," Ruckus isn't sure how Leech managed to turn their positions in this argument; he only wants to take that look from Leech's face, to take the flat tone from his boy's voice.

Leech turns his head to, finally, make eye contact with his lover. "...ya mean it? He can stay?"

Those large blue eyes are wider than normal, and Ruckus even detects a hint of condensation on the lids. The hope there near breaks his heart. It would, had he a heart. But Leech has always been the exception to the rules. When the man does not immediately reply, the boy looks away. Crestfallen, but resigned.

"It's only a kitten," Ruckus tells him in his softest voice. It is that whiskey-shot tone: Rough on the ears, warm in the stomach. "If ya want it, if ya think it's worth it..."

When Leech faces him once more, he is not smiling, but there is a tightness in the corners of his mouth and those threatening tears are apparent once more. "He won't be any trouble. He'll be worth it, I promise."

Ruckus closes his eyes, giving in. Downing the small glass of sugared absinthe, he offers no response but to lean forward. Snatching the cut straw from the broken coffee table, he leans forward to snort the lines that comprise the white elephant Nullifying and denying its existence or the meaning put behind it. Sitting up, sniffing a couple times to clear his nostrils, he nods towards the rusted staircase that leads to the upper story of the burned building. "Go on, boy. He's yours."

With energy that the younger boy does not often show, Leech vaults off the couch and bolts up the stairs to retrieve his tiny, furry white bundle with those big blue eyes that so mimic his own. Ruckus watches him go. He is surprised to find a hint of his crooked grin making an appearance. To himself, he murmurs softly. "Not the first stray I've taken in, anyways..."