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@anya-sokol
[Drew turned his head back over to Anya as she spoke, shrugging his shoulders softly.] I have no reason to believe you’re a bitch, Anya. Actually, you’ve been nice to me… always, really. You’ve never once been at all bitchy. [the male turns his attention to her glass, watching the ice moving around in the circle that she was swirling them in] I might have to start doing that. The more I let people in, the more I keep getting hurt. Pushing people away may be my only option to move on; and yours may be the opp.. opposi— other thing. You should try letting someone in for a change - you may be surprised when they find that they like what they see.
Well being a bitch to you, it's like...it's like kicking puppy. Puppies. Kicking...something cute and fluffy and sweet. [she snickered.] Not that that ever stopped some people. Like Alice. Alice, she's a bitch. [she snickered again and reached for the bottle to refill her glass.] I dunno, Drew, I think you are the way you are and I am the way I am. I don't know if that's something we can just...change. Do the old switch-a-roo.
Alcohol will always be your best friend.
Just because you can’t accept the fact it won’t make you to a daydreamer or whatever. You are in a numb state. And to deny your loss is naturally, this will change soon and the pain will take over. Pain and anger.
I think I'll do better if I can get to angry. I just--what--what is there to be angry at? Who is there to be angry at?
You’ve got that right. [he chuckles lightly]
It's, ah...it's a good thing. Sir. [she manages a tiny smile and a sip of whiskey.]
[Drew just laughed as Anya congratulated him on his shitty family life and toasted to their childhoods, taking a long drag of the liquid afterwards. He shook his head as the brunette stumbled over her words, knowing that he would have done exactly the same if he had tried to say the same words] Why would I think you were a bitch, Anya? [he cocked his head to the side, not remembering a time where the head of security had done anything to make him believe so]
I don't know. Because pretty much everyone does? It doesn't bother me. I'd rather be seen as a bitch, most of the time. It cuts the crap. It saves time. Most of the time. [she heaved a sigh and shook the ice in her glass, then drained the alcohol still swimming around in the bottom.] And most of the people that try to look past the bitchy and see...me, I don't let them. I shove them back as hard and fast as I can. I bet you don't do that. You're...nice. I can't be nice, it's exhausting.
Karma's a bitch.
Loliness only makes things worst. Do you want to talk about something else? Anything. Work, climate, how good this scotch is. I don’t think I can handle talking about my misery any longer.
[she smirked wryly.] It is some really good scotch. I always seem to get at least a couple of bottles of something delicious and alcoholic every Christmas. I think I've already gone through most of it. There might be some wine left. I never cared for wine. It's glorified vinegar.
...I'd move on to the weather, but I have fucking idea what it's even like outside? Hot? I'm guessing it's hot.
[Max took a sip of his drink, accompanying his moveement with a small shrug of his shoulders] I’ve not brought you in here to tell you off, and you shouldn’t think that it’s about work. Apparently Tiffany has made me… softer. Mhm.
[Anya shrugged a little herself, staring down at her glass without drinking it.] You...certainly aren't the person you used to be, sir.
I do. [Max smiled softly as he walked over to his drinks cabinet after Anya had sat down, bringing out two glasses and filling them with the expensive whiskey from the crystal bottle. He then took them over to the desk and perched himself on the edge, looking down at her] You seem on edge being in here, Anya - is something else the matter?
[Anya sat down and clasped her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting.] No, sir...not exactly. I suppose it's just that I usually sit in this chair when something's wrong, or someone's in trouble. And I don't...want to make you uncomfortable. Most men don't enjoy dealing with emotionally compromised women.
[Drew physically grimaced at the name of the blonde woman and threw back the rest of his drink, savoring the taste of the whiskey in his mouth for a moment before then placing the glass back down onto the bar.] No? Sounds healthy enough to me. [He shrugged, before then taking the bottle once more, topping up Anya’s glass before filling his own once again] Your life sounds like mine, Anya. My father was missing, so basically dead to us, my mother was a hard working prostitute, and my brother was a convict. I turned into a drug dealer to pay for my girlfriend and me to be happy once she found out she was pregnant, and then I sorted my shit out. I don’t know how you feel about constantly fighting, but constantly having to be the strong one - that I know. But, you’re not a bitch. [he smiled softly at the end of his sentence, and picked up his glass again, raising it towards her] To shitty upbringings, dead-beat families and broken hearts?
[Anya studied Drew thoughtfully for a moment, and blamed the fact that she was well on her way to getting completely drunk that she wanted to hug him.] All right, if there's a prize for the shittier upbringing, I think you probably win. [she lifted her glass and held it up, clinking it solidly against Drew's.] To all of that. And to very good coping mechanis--mechan. Mm. Mech-an-is-ms. [Anya laughed and shook her head, then took a deep drink.] Yep. There we go. Up to a six, rapidly climbing higher. Can't form complex words. [She paused, running her tongue over her teeth.] Do you...you really don't think I'm a bitch?