Just something I threw together to cut my teeth on Elliquiy, responding to Beguile's Mistress' first prompt. Hope you enjoy!
I lied awake for awhile listening to the bells, wondering what machine they emanated from, remembering the sound of real bells. It made a good deal of sense for them to be artificial. Greenpoint seemed in a lot of ways, at least in that area controlled by young professionals, to be some odd approximation to the smaller, more intimate kind of town life I’m used to. But it’s always a little artificial.
The room smelled a little musty. Our clothes were covering the floor and a big rusty bedframe loomed ominously up against the wall. I moved a little and the entire air mattress slid half a foot across the floor, sounding like running the tips of your fingers over a balloon. It was comfortable for an air mattress but, of course, a little artificial.
Analeigh had left a note I guess on the pillow that just said “roof.” I felt my head and my hangover rush up to the top of my skull when I sat up, rubbing my temples with a stiff yawn. My lungs felt like a wildfire had swept through in the night. I climbed into my jeans and pulled on the second of my three graphic t-shirts and slid on my boots and grabbed my black jean jacket, completing what had become essentially my uniform. I made sure I had all my effects, checked my wallet to make sure I still had all the necessary plastic, and left the room.
The view of the skyline from the room was amazing, stark and enormous against the finally clear-blue sky. Analeigh was leaning up against the rail, her skirt pulled up a little standing almost on the tips of her boots. Her shirt cut low on her back and her deep red hair hung against her skin, a little tanned now but she never really tans.
“Goddamn, what happened last night?”
“You got drunk.” I managed a little laugh as I leaned down on the rail next to her, clicking her heel with mine.
“Well I seem to remember somebody beating the record for most wardrobe malfunctions in a single night.”
“Shut up.” She pushed her shoulder against me and smiled.
“Well should we go get some coffee and head out?”
We fell silent for a moment. I muttered another Goddamn and put my hand on her arm and we left.
“What train do we take?” We were walking down Manhattan Ave towards the station, newly equipped with two venti-sized iced coffees with whatever she told the barista to put in it.
She always likes to make my drinks for me because I’m boring with my coffee. As always it was a decent taste but too sweet.
“The F Train...”
“To Poundtown yeah you’ve made that joke like 25 times, dickhead.”
“Well we’re here aren’t we? The G to the E.”
“Oh I’ll take the G to the E anytime. Or the E to the G.”
“Well good, we’re going both ways.”
We took the train all the way down the very large Freedom Tower only to discover that you need a reservation to see Ground Zero. We weren’t particularly fazed and we started our walk up towards Chinatown where Analeigh wanted to get some soup dumplings. It was a longer walk than we anticipated but we’re both used to long walks and it was good to see so much of the city. In Chinatown we found her soup dumplings, which were pretty good, and crossed the street to Little Italy. We felt pretty well like a couple of tourists but hell if that’s not what we were.
“Let’s stop somewhere for a drink.” She nodded but kept walking. There were a dozen places, all of them tourist traps I’m sure, but I just wanted to sit and get overpriced bourbon and watch for a while. She picked one that seemed at random on the corner of Mulberry and Grand. We got a couple of 12 dollar drinks and sat looking out on the street. “High rollers today,” I said.