In a bar like that, she stuck out like a sore thumb. So did he, come to think of it, but he preferred his quiet unobtrusive seat in corner whilst she had been sitting bold as brass up at the bar. No black, no denim, no tattoos, piercings or any other expected oddity of that sort of bar she was blazingly normal looking which was what caught Banny's eye. She was a little shorter than average, wearing a knee length cocktail dress of minty green that was too pale for her fair skin tone but worked beautifully with the knot of brazen curls at nape of her slender neck. She looked like a pixie, like she should have been picking her way delicately through a woodland glade rather than knocking them back in a tough cheap little bar. When he had stolen the chance of asking her the old 'what's a girl like you...?' question, every syllable that slipped pasted her frosted pink lips was like a punch in the face. The answer became clear before the sentence was even finished.

"What's a boy like you doing talking to a girl like me?"

She was a feisty one. Banquo didn't usually like the fiery sort - he was after soft and slow blind comfort, not skin tearing lip biting passion - but or her, he'd make an exception. They didn't talk much which was good, just drank and traced patterns on the scummy bar top in pseudo silence (with or without the hubbub and chatter it would have been just as loud). They were getting along swimmingly and he was sure that they were going somewhere when - out of the blue - her cell phone rang. Banny followed the girl to a quieter part of the club where after a short hushed conversations, she hung up and promptly burst into tears. He was genuinely alarmed but it all, but as he walked her to her flat a few block away she explained that her Nana had suffered a massive stroke and she had to go visit the hospital immediately. Apparently, Banquo took this as an opportunity to kiss her.

His cheek was still stinging, and to make matters worse he was lost. He had most definitely taken a wrong turning somewhere, and had ended up in some tiny park (really a patch of grass with a tree, some bushes and two benches) fairly close to a residential order but still unnervingly secluded. He sat down heavily on one of the benches which groaned in protest and he sighed, pulling his thin navy cardigan about him. His cheap watch told him it was approaching 2am, and the night air was balmy and pleasant against what little skin he had exposed. All the lights of the nearby houses were out and only a single street lamp a few dozen yards away was lit, the feeble orangy light barely disturbing the shadows. Banquo shut his weary eyes, tilted his head back, pinched the bridge of his nose and listened. He was desperately straining to hear the muted music of the club, the sound of voices, breaking glass, anything. There was nothing but silence. A few streets away a dog barked half-heartedly. Well, thought Banny. I'm drunk, lost, tired and alone. May as well make it a night. He reached into the back pocket of his faded dark blue jeans, and pulled out a little clear plastic bag inside of which there was seven little round white pills and another tiny plastic bag of white powder. He took out the smaller bag, shook a little onto the back of his hand and took it like a pinch of snuff. Pensively he paused, and sniffed thoughtfully at the darkness. He then proceeded to fish out and gulp down one of the pills. It was a nice quiet place for a chilled trip, but somehow taking drugs on your own just wasn't as fun.

Banquo pressed the menthol cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. He would start feeling the affects of the drugs in a few minutes, and then either end up falling asleep on the bench or wandering off. When morning rolled around he could always ask a stranger for directions or maybe even take it as an opportunity to explore the vast parts of the city he hadn't seen yet. Another sigh escaped with a gasp of smoke, and he flicked ash onto the dry ground near his feet. The night had ultimately been a complete waste of time, and Banquo was beginning to get increasingly frustrated at how out of sync his daily routine had been recently. He'd overslept yet again, and out of sheer annoyance he decided just to stay home all day, sit in his boxers on the balcony and play through his vinyl collection at an extraordinarily loud volume. This only made him lapse into a contemplative mood - particularly once he opened another bottle of scotch - that he'd been unable to break all evening. It was depressing. He went bar crawling to help him forget for a few hours but instead he couldn't quite shake the fuzzy edge of depression that were imposing on his vision. Banny took another draw, and rubbed his eyes with his other hand. He was starting to feel a little light headed, a little giddy. The cherry of his cigarette looked like it was shaking before he realized it was just his unsteady grip. The ghost smile that was playing on his lips faltered visibly. He needed help.

Banquo seemed fascinated by the smoke from his cigarette as it seemed from his lush chapped lips and rolled it's way languidly up into the night air. He tried to blow a smoke ring, but it was just a blob of swirling grey like the rest of the little cloud. He frowned slightly - he used to be able to make them. He had been the master of the smoke ring. Banny smirked hazily, and went to take another draw only to find it was right down to the filter now. He pulled a face, and flicked it away from him. The ground where it hit rippled very gently, making him want to put his feet on the bench beside him incase they got wet. He shifted in his seat, lifting his legs to stretch them out beside him - and was surprisingly unsurprised to find the space already occupied.

Banny frowned as he watched the young man's lips form words that he couldn't hear, and there was at least a ten second delay before he could. He squinted at the scratched face of his watch, then glanced back up at the boy. He couldn't actually tell what time it was exactly because everything he was looking at seemed to be visually echoing, so instead he just shrugged and shook his head, "It's...too late, I think. We should be in bed by now, we all should." He spoke slowly and deliberately like someone might if they were wearing earphones and didn't want to shout. Banquo gave up trying to focus on the boy's face as it only made him dizzy, and instead turned his interest to attempting to light up another cigarette. It proved to be more difficult that expected because every time he lit a match, he was either so startled he dropped it or so interested by the flame it burned out before he could put it to use.

Half a dozen used matches and one finally lit cigarette later, Baquo crossed his legs and reclined on the bench. "I'm not a little bit lost," he said at length, fruitlessly trying once again to blow a smoking ring, "More like a big bit lost. I live at Harper Point...I think." Banquo had almost said his old address from back in New York before he was institutionalized, and bit his tongue. He hadn't done that before. He didn't want to betray anything about his past to anyone in Seattle. What happened seemed like a hundred years ago, and that was the way he wanted it to be for the time being. It was a very private matter, and he thoroughly intended it to stay that way. He gave the stranger a suspicious side-ways glance and sniffed again, "Who's asking, anyway?"

Nicky's somewhat sudden arrival made Banquo feel curiously ill at ease, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He was a good looking lad - from what he could see, considering how dark it was and the trouble he was having focusing - but a little bit too forward for his liking. He enjoyed talking to strangers, seeing as they were actually the only people in Seattle but when they approached him first it always made him a bit suspicious. However, he was glad of the company. After the unfortunate incident with the delightful redhead earlier he had been feeling desperately alone and if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was being completely alone - particularly at night. "I don't have a sense of direction, grounded or not. I've only just moved here from Brooklyn. I'm still getting my bearings." he said guardedly. So it was a little white lie, but Banny was trying his best to carefully skirt around the topic while politely keeping up the chit-chat. So what if he technically hadn't moved from Brooklyn, but rather an asylum out in the middle of nowhere? And 'just' was stretching it a little seeing as he'd been there for over a month already.

"A week ago?" Banquo echoed, cocking one dark eyebrow before he squinted doubtfully at the young man, "I've never seen you around before..." Regardless of his mild wariness, he fumbled for his cigarettes and held one out to Nicky. He'd only taken a few draws of his own, which had merrily burned away until it was annoyingly almost down to the filter again. The distortionary effects of the ketamine was starting to wear off just as the far more pleasant euphoric effects of the ecstasy were first stirring. It would be a little while before he was properly high again rather than just disorientated, and hopefully by then he would be back home in his tiny apartment rather than a park bench (stranger optional). His wandering attention perked up again at Nicky's presumably jokey puppy statement, and something resembling a grin arranged itself on Banquo's sleepy feline features, "Give me a pet name. I'd like that. I've never had a real nickname before." Another lie, even more pointless than the last. Alex had given him a nickname: Babby, meaning baby - an affectionate twist on the usual 'Banny' that was a slight nod to his Scottish heritage too. He hadn't heard that name in four years. He doubted he'd ever hear it again. He uncrossed his legs, and sat up slightly, "Yes, yes, take me home! Keep me if you really want. I'm a good dog. I won't chew the furniture, honest."

Banny hadn't noticed Nicky stub the cigarette out on himself earlier, but he couldn't help but gawk in grim fascination as the young man popped three pills (he assumed it was good old MDMA) into his mouth as though they were candy. He was going to be pretty fucked up, that was for sure. He hoped that they wouldn't take affect too soon or else the boy was surely going to be too high to find the bench they were sitting on, never mind the way back to Harper Point. He took one last draw of his own cig, before he flicked it into the darkness over his shoulder. He let out the tingly minty smoke slowly through his nose, and half chuckled, "You wouldn't want to hear my life story," he said in what he hoped was an earnest manner, "It would put you to sleep. I'm just a boring old git from New York..."

When Nicky claimed he was rarely home in a fairly casual way, Banquo was almost tempted to start prying as to why this was. Of course, he held his tongue thinking that he wouldn't have wanted to be grilled about it if it was him. Once the boy had taken the cigarette from him, he carefully folded up on himself - knees pulled up to his chest, arms tucked under the, head inclined forward slightly. He in one of those mood where time was pulling him down but chemicals were driving him on, sleep prowling the edges of his buzzing subconscious just waiting for him to drop his guard. He raised an eyebrow at Nicky, and shrugged with the menthol firmly fixed between his lips even as he spoke, "I was a normal kid. Didn't have anything that could have inspired a nickname."

All through the comparison between himself and the blind Australian Sheppard, Banny was struck by a fit of silent giggles. He had been compared to many thing before, but nothing quite like that - in fact, he was sure he was the least dog-like person he knew. It took him a little while to figure out what Nicky meant by it and when he did, his dark brows knitted together. Was he really unreadable? Banny tried hard to keep himself to himself as much as possible but he always thought that part of him was like an open book for anyone who looked close enough. He wasn't sure if he should have been happy about it or not. He could feel his thought being sucked towards this idea like water going down a plughole when suddenly he was jerked back by one little four letter word, "Babs...?" he repeated slowly. The name hung in the air infront of him like a lead weight, and a fleeting look of anguish clouded his sharp blue gaze momentarily. Banquo was exceedingly sensitive to things that reminded him of better times quite so obviously, and 'Babs' was cutting close to the bone. He looked away, and rubbed his face with his hand as though he was trying to brush smut from his skin. Reluctantly he looked back up at Nicky, who was now standing with his hand outstretched. Banny unfolded himself, and tentatively reached out to take it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, being reminded. Maybe it was a sign.

As soon as he was on his feet, Banquo dropped the boy's hand and walked an an arms length away from him with his eyes focus on the ground immediately before him. His chest felt uncomfortably tight as though he'd sprinted up a few flights of stairs, and he wondered blandly if he was having a drug induced heart attack, "I have some stuff back at my apartment," he said, skipping over the dumb question of why Nicky needed painkillers. "I'm not sure what though. Bit of meth for sure. Some tranquilizers maybe. I've got about a line's worth of K on me and some Es, which you're more than welcome to. God knows I need them like I need a hole in the head." When he laid it out like that, Banny realized that it sounded like quite a lot. Too much, actually. He was sure he didn't have a drug problem - not yet anyway - but that was probably because he hadn't stopped long enough to get any real cravings or them. As for the part about life stories, he merely shrugged, "Maybe I'll tell you another time. Anyway, what about you? What sort of kid picks up previously mentioned strangers in an unfamiliar city at 2am and leads them home? I could be a crazy knife-wielding rapist for all you know."

Banquo pulled an elaborate thinking face, complete with invisible beard stroking action, "Hmm, nope. No. I'm pretty sure I was normal," came the stubborn reply. He actually quite believed that fact, considering his childhood and general upbringing to be entirely unspectacular and nothing short of ordinary. He had ADHD until half way through high-school, he was considered popular but only actually had one friend, and until about a year ago had never been romantically involved with anyone apart from Alex - not quite the norm after all, but he didn't think Nicky needed to know that.

He wished the boy would stop with the Cheshire Cat grin after everything he said. People he grinned so much made him nervous. He seemed somewhat pleased that his nickname had managed to upset him so Banny didn't say anything, just replied with a tight smile of his own. He would have preferred Blue, which was something his sister Hope's boyfriend used to call him as though he was a little brother. He would have prefer almost anything, actually, even something insulting. Besides, it made him sound like an old woman.

Easily distractable as ever, Banquo was having a tough time keeping focus as they moved into a slightly less secluded area. At regular intervals down the street they were walking there were street-lamps unlike the small park area, and each time they passed under or near one his pace would falter and he would slow down to gawk at the fuzzy halos of orange light. Eventually he stopped all together and shook his head like a dog with something in his ear to try and get himself together. It was then he noticed Nicky's out-stretched hand. He started walking again, still keeping his distance from the boy. He pulled the small plastic bag out of his pocket, and pressed it into the waiting hand. "Good looks," he muttered, touching his face gently again, "Yeah, my good looks..."

Almost everything Nicky was saying made Banquo frown or raise an eyebrow in confusion. Just as he was having problems walking straight, he was having trouble thinking straight too. "An uninteresting runaway. Oxymoron much?" he mused, tucking his hands in his pockets to save himself the trouble o trying to light another cigarette. He wasn't going to ask questions, but he wished the boy would tell him more. Banny liked listening to people. It meant that he didn't have to talk. "I have family. I have lots of family. A mum, a dad, aunts, uncles, cousins...No grandparents anymore. Too old to have grandparents. No kids either. Oh! And three sisters. Beautiful, beautiful girls. Triplets, actually. They all live in New York." Banquo sighed, having apparently exhausted his short chatting stint. He loved his family dearly and it pained him that he never got to see them very often. His sisters in particular had been very understanding and helpful through everything that had happened, particularly because they had all been terribly fond of Alex too.

"I went to Boston once," he said after a long pause, "I stayed there for a few days with a friend. Nice enough place." Surprisingly enough, he was actually telling the God's honest truth. He had spent three days in Boston when he had traveled around America for a few months, before they left for Europe and Asia. Banny couldn't actually remember much about it. He sighed again, and wished they were back at the apartments already. As much as he enjoyed being high, he wanted to get home while he was still somewhat coherent. "Are we nearly there yet?" he whined like a child, "I don't know about you but I could do with a drink and somewhere to rest my weary bones..."