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for @moonlightsdew -- okay, this is probably going to end in tears, buuuuut... starter for Adam! Because Adam and Blitzo? What could possibly go wrong!
After a thoroughly shitty week at I.M.P, Blitzo was done. He was done, he was cranky, and while he probably could just go hide at home, drink, and not worry about anything, he wasn't in the mood for that. (Anymore. He had definitely gotten a start on the booze and, unfortunately, didn't let anyone know he was going out). Why worry? Everything was garbage. Life was pointless when you were just born to be an evil waste of space, and Stolas didn't love him, and Fizzie was so strong and good but not by choice, and Moxxie and Millie were just too precious for Hell and--
Why sit at home and cry when you could go out on the streets and cause problems on purpose?
Which was exactly what he was doing. But after picking a series of fights, he knew he was too sober: he won the fights and was able to walk away. He definitely needed to find some shitty little dark hole to hide in where he could get drunk enough to get his ass kicked, because this wasn't working. So, a little bruised and battered but unfortunately no worse for the wear, feeling bitchy and pissy and sorry for himself, Blitzo stalked into a sad little drinking den. Definitely not a speakeasy--those tended to have some level of class--this was the kind of place one never took their friends to, and sure as fuck didn't admit to knowing about--a place for losers and monsters.
And right now, he felt like both.
After getting a shot of some crappy liquor claiming to 'taste just like Valentino's Venom!', because who didn't want to suck moth face, the imp went over to one of the two sticky, cramped, pathetic little booths in the corner. There was another guy there, someone just radiating leave-me-alone energy, or so Blitzo interpreted him... which meant he absolutely had to fuck with him.
"You look like you suck," he said, sliding in to sit across from Adam. Er, attempting to slide. "Fuck, why are these seats so sticky?"
"Yeah?" Blitz smirked. "How's that working out for ya? Pretty shitty if you ask me. Because here I am, making your night one hell of a lot worse." Pleased with himself, he toasted the bastard with his sickly sweet and definitely faked Val Venom, grinned, and knocked the booze back. It made him cough, which was a little embarrassing, but what did it matter? People didn't come here because they had self-respect.
"So." He tried to avoid the stickiest part of the seat. "Since you're a complete failure when it comes to drinking alone, and since I'm a tenacious prick who loves watching people fail even harder... What do you say we finish these drinks, go outside, and fight? Or, shit. You seem kind of hot. Something about this whole vibe you've got going on. You want to get fucked into the ground? Maybe a wall? Or you the kinda guy who wants someone to pretend to be in love with them so that the fucking doesn't feel like objectification? Because," shit, was he slurring his words a little? That Venom liquor was strong. What was he saying? Blitzo held up a finger, which would clearly help make his point. "Fuck that noise. I'm not down. Just good, clean, honest fucking, til you can't stand anymore.
"Beat each other to pulp, winner tops?"
Going to a shitty bar to get shitty alcohol wasn't Adam's idea of fun, generally speaking, but it wasn't like he really had options at the moment. The only money he had gotten had been yoinked from sinners too stupid to approach him, and he couldn't go find something actually fun to do without drawing unwanted attention.
He had tried. Got into a fight against some hellhound at a party that left him irritated and wanting to forget that he was stuck in this shithole of a realm. To save his pride - and keep himself on the down low - he had been forced to come here and shove himself into a corner booth. It was sticky, smelled like shit, and didn't make him feel any better, but at least he got to drink.
It would have almost maybe been fine if some strange little fuck didn't decide to come join him without prompting.
"Are you fucking serious, dude?" He had zero interest in conversation, especially with someone who started off the interaction with an insult. "I'm trying to have a drink. By myself."
"Oh, I definitely could take you," Blitzo snorted, confident in that at least. "I might be a little drunk, but whoever you are, I'm definitely still sober enough to make you regret sinning." He pushed his empty glass aside--ugh, that shit really was awful--and eyed the sticky residue left behind with disgusted doubt, but then turned his attention back to the sinner.
For whatever unholy reason, this jackass seemed like he didn't want to take advantage of Blitzo's intoxicated invitation, which was disappointingly decent of him. Decent people in Hell were few and far between, and they always made Blitzo feel a little more disappointed with himself. So, frowning, he folded his arms and leaned back. "We can go find out. Kick each other's asses til neither of us can walk home. What's uh, your deal though? I mean you're obviously a sinner, so I assume you're some kind of trash. In which case, welcome to the fucking club. Trash, not sinners, I'm obviously not--anyway. I'm Blitzo. The O is silent." He offered his hand across the table.
"What the fuck, dude."
Adam had dealt with some pretty crass interactions between himself and Lute, and of course coming down to Hell had made it more frequent. But Blitzo talking a mile a minute barely gave Adam time to register what was being spouted at him.
It did make him reconsider his drink, sliding it to the side to abandon.
"First of all, I'm not gonna fuck you, gross." A drunk imp who was clearly not alright in the head was not his idea of a fun time, even in his more sadistic moments. "Second of all, do you really think you could l take my ass in a fight??"
Honestly, Adam wasn't against the fighting bit, but it would be kinda lame to have the dude pass the fuck out before he could even get a proper hit on him.
.... Would make taking his wallet easier though.
"You're fucking what?" Blitz asked, that declaration cutting through the haze of the booze enough to have him sitting upright, eyes widening. Not sobered, not really, but he suddenly felt damn close to it. Adam? The Adam? The psychotic leader of the execution brigade? What did they call themselves, Exorcists? Implying that demons shouldn't be in possession of Hell?
Blitz looked down at their hands, struggling to make sense of the fact that he was apparently touching Adam. Adam, who so damn many people in Hell would love to get their hands on and rip apart. Who--
Was here.
In this dump.
Drinking alone.
Blitz shook his head--it felt like his brain was sloshing around in there a bit--and let go of Adam's hand, wiping his palm on his jeans as he gave him a deeply distrustful look.
"I'd say it's nice to meet you, but you might've just almost sobered me up, and that's a fuckin' waste of my money. You... fucking... you? Really? But you've got this whole Chad vibe, and--fuck it." Abruptly, he stood up and walked around to Adam's side, took him by the arm, and attempted to drag him with him. "You're coming home with me. We need to get you off the street."
Adam scoffs at his confidence. This little... thing really thought he could get more than a few hits on Adam before he crushed him? Yeah, right.
He was gonna make a snarky comment right in that vein of thought, but Blitzo holds his hand out as if to shake, catching the fallen angel off guard. Not to mention the information offered. Part of the Trash club, not Sinners? Adam would disagree, but his makeshift home in his first days here was in a dump, so. But not sinners...
Wait, hellborn. He has to mentally sort through his knowledge that he didn't care about enough to think too hard about. Hellborn... oh! An imp!
The realization almost had his laughing, but he refrains, smirking.
"Didn't know Blitzo had an o in it." Adam comments. He reaches out and grabs his hand to shake it, grip tighter than it needs to be. "I'm Adam. First Man."