2011 06 30: The Long Haul

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Mission Name: The Long Haul
Date of Mission: June 30, 2011
Locale: Mimi's apartment

Foster gets a nasty surprise when he shows up at Mimi's door unexpectedly

Foster Mimi

Mimi is just getting home with once again, no recollection of what she's done or anything else. But it looks like she did plenty. More specifically, it looks like a linebacker beat the Hell out of her. The blonde stumbles through her front door with tears running down her face, her mouth cake in blood, and one of her eyes blackened. Her hair is bloody and the dress that she wore is now in tatters. Her legs are bruised. Something is definitely not right here. She stops in the hallway to look at one of her ever-so-chic art deco mirrors, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. "God, what did I…" She trails off there.

Mimi doesn't have much time to think about it, however. No sooner has she shut the door on her apartment than does the elevator deposit Foster on her floor. He's actually in a pretty decent mood, short-lived though it may be. He makes his way along the hallway to her door, hesitating for only a fraction of the time he used to hesitate, before he lifts a hand to knock - and he even manages to knock only three times, and leave it at that. Unfortunately, it also means she's not going to get a rambled discourse to buy her time before answering.

"Shit." Mimi takes her dress off and runs to the bathroom as quick as she can for her terrycloth pink bathrobe, and then to plop some cucumber facial peel onto her face. "Just a second!" She cries out, making sure that her eye area is covered adequately before she peels toward the door and opens it, trying to affect a chipper smile. She apparently didn't think about the blood in her hair. "Hi, Fozzy! Come in. I was just going through my morning bath routine when you decided to drop by…" Of course, she's left her tattered dress in the hall.

"Uh, hi, hello. Hey Mimi," Foster greets, not yet entirely smooth, unfortunately. "I, uh. I hope it's okay I… dropped by?" He steps over the threshold just the same, rather than lurking on the doorway. For a moment, the innocent boy thinks the blood might be some sort of hair care something that guys just don't understand. "I- I have the day off and I thought I, um. You know. I owe you a- a date, so uh. Here I am…" He trails off slightly as closer inspection makes it harder to think the blood in her hair is anything else, especially as he catches sight of her dress sitting there.

Mimi smiles at him and keeps smiling as he looks around. "Of course! I… err…" Well, it's going to be hard to hide her bruised eye when she has to go wash the crap off her face. She motions Foster to come in a little further before she shuts the door and watches him. "I'd love to go with you…" She's failing at thinking of an excuse not to go, either. Finally she just sighs and sits down on the couch, motioning him over. Mimi looks more defeated than she's probably been in her whole life, even after the time daddy said she couldn't use his Platinum VISA for buying Andalusians online anymore.

"Mimi…" Foster says in a quieter tone as he moves further into the apartment, not bothering to hide the fact that he's noticed the dress and is beginning to put things together. His tone wavers somewhere between questioning and concern. Normally, he'd probably be pretty easy to blow off, although he'd go away, blaming himself for screwing it up. But under the current circumstances, he just quietly moves over to join her on the couch, looking at her with a serious and worried expression. "What's going on?" he asks succinctly.

"It's happening again and I don't know why or how. I went out last night… I don't remember what for. All I remember is that I walked in right before you got here…" Mimi decides that rather than explain, she'll just show him. She reaches for a box of tissues on her coffee table and begins to wipe the face creme off, wincing as she does. The shiner is severe, her eye almost swollen shut. And the rest of her face, with it's cuts and bruises, isn't so pretty either. When she's finished dabbing most of the mask off, she pulls her robe down and lets Foster see more of her naked body than he has before. Unfortunately for him, it too is covered in bruises and lacerations, with a particular set of fingernail marks around her throat that are quite telling.

"My God, Mimi," Foster can't help but explain as he finally gets a look at what she's been trying to hide. With a protective instinct, he reaches out towards her and then stops himself, halting in midair to look at her questioningly, seeking permission before proceeding. He's certainly not oblivious to the bare skin she's showing, but that detail is stuck away in the back of his mind as he focusses on the overwhelming worry. "You- You- What is going on?" he can't help but ask. "You look- I mean, you don't look terrible, but - these injuries do."

"No, I do look terrible," Mimi admits, her eyes welling up again. "I don't know. I just… I don't know. It's all so crazy. I go out, wake up, and I don't remember anything, or when I do, I think I've been partying, but partying does not wield these kinds of results on a normal basis. If so, this is some kind of advanced hangover or my body has finally had enough shit and it's revolting in a seriously heinous way." She laughs a little at the absurdity of that claim before she takes his hand and sets it on her knee, squeezing it there. "I just don't know. There's something wrong with me. That's an understatement at this point, right?"

"It's okay," Foster says, completely out of his depth but wanting to say something to reassure the upset young woman. "I- We'll figure it out, okay? There's- There's something going on and I- I don't think it's your fault." He has no idea what is happening, but he's seen enough to figure that much, at least. He gives her knee a reassuring squeeze, distracted enough by the current predicament to keep from freaking out that his hand is on her knee. "We should, uh… do something about the, um. The injuries. Do you have… ice or, uh, Polysporin? Steak for your eye maybe? Or, um, or peas? Frozen ones, I mean."

Mimi nods her head a little bit at his reassuring. Even if she doesn't believe it, it's still nice to hear. "Um, yeah. I think that there's an ice pack in the freezer, if you'd go get it for me, please. Just make sure that no severed body parts fall out of the freezer, otherwise we'll know we're in way over our heads and it's much worse than we think," Mimi says in a wry tone, clearing her throat a little bit. She sniffles briefly and tries to dry her tears, shaking her head at herself.

"Yeah, of- of course," Foster agrees readily, seeming glad to have something he can actually do to help, even if it is only fetching an ice pack. He pauses just slightly, like he wants to say or do something more, but he ends up just pushing to his feet, giving her what's mean to be a reassuring smile, and then heading for the kitchen. Assuming no body parts do fall out, he's only gone for a moment, promptly returning with an ice pack and a towel to wrap it in, carefully packaging it up for her before offering it over.

She takes the ice bag and smiles at Foster shakily as she puts the ice on her eye and sniffles once more. "Foster… I don't feel right about getting you involved in all this. I mean, I knew from the start that I'd be a horrible girlfriend. And that was bad enough, me putting you in this position. But this is something that… that's too big for me, or you. I don't know if we can face this together or not. I'm scared… I'm really scared. And I never get scared, Waldo. Never." She looks like she might start crying anew as she looks up to Foster, biting her lower lip.

Foster doesn't immediately move to reclaim his seat, but hovers over her in what might actually be intended to be protectiveness - not that he could do a damn thing if someone did try to attack her right now, other than slow them down by dying in their path. But still, he hovers. When she admits to being scared, however, that tiny streak of macho-ness gives out and he moves back to comfort mode, dropping to sit beside her, and then, in spite of himself, reaching out to put an arm around her lightly, conscious of not wanting to hurt her further, what with the bruises. "You aren't a terrible girlfriend," he assures her first off, since that's the easier point to answer. "And I'm- I'm already involved. There are … bad people out there, Mimi. And I- I think they're doing something to you. I, uh, I have no idea how to fix it, but I'm not going to just … leave you to deal with it alone."

Now it's Foster's good intentions and kind heart that set her off again. She reaches out to wrap her arms tightly around him, not caring about the bruises right now. She sniffles against his neck and kisses his cheek repeatedly before she clings onto him. "I appreciate that… I do. I just feel bad about it…" And yet she's not in a position to so readily deny his help completely. She holds him against her before pulling away, putting the ice to her face again. "You said it's your day off, right? Do you want to stay? I'm afraid I might not be very good company because I'm totally exhausted… Is it wrong that I'm kind of hoping this is a 'you should see the other guy' scenario?"

"Just- just stop feeling bad about it," Foster insists, trying to sound stern but not quite making it there. "You, um. You gave me the option and I'm… I'm choosing to stay. Okay?" As she hugs him back tightly, he squeezes her just a little more firmly in return, and when she pulls back, he doesn't immediately draw back his arm. "Yeah, I'm, uh- I'm not going anywhere. Let's just… We'll just stay in and take it easy. I'm … pretty easy to entertain," he adds with a faint smile, trying to lighten things up a bit, but the humour fades quickly. "I, uh. I hope you kicked his ass."

She furrows her brows before she nods and takes Foster's hand gently, starting to lead him into the bedroom for what might be naptime. Her robe is still halfway on at least. "Foster, I don't know what I would do without you. You're a good person. You don't know how few I've met in my life. Maybe one day you can teach me to be a good person too, when I'm not out randomly kicking ass and not remembering…" She trails off there, sighing a little bit. What a predicament.

Foster is easily led, following her towards the bedroom, and having maybe only a quarter of his thoughts go towards things more exciting than naptime. Well, maybe half his thoughts, but the better half is going to leave that alone for now, since this is hardly the time. "You, uh. You're a good person, Mimi. If you weren't, you'd, um, you wouldn't be so worried about it," he points out, giving her hand a light squeeze. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Someone's already, um, doing it for you. Don't- Don't help them with it."

Mimi leads Foster into the bedroom where she tosses the robe on the floor, then realizes that there's blood in her hair. "Oh, like ew. I'm not laying down on the bed with this crap on my hair. Wait here for me, will you? I won't be long." She kisses him on the lips for a long few moments before pulling away and grinning, trouncing off to the bathroom to maybe disinfect some of those wounds — but more importantly make her hair not so bloody. Like, ew.

"I, uhhh…" Foster replies eloquently following the kiss, his mind a bit broken between her casual disrobing and the kiss itself. Unable to get his words out, he just nods several times instead to indicate his willingness to wait here. Which he does, staying in the very spot like moving might somehow break the spell. While he waits, he looks casually about the room, but mostly is just lost in his own thoughts, which are reeling across several different subjects, although most of them come back to her body - between the injuries and the nakedness. She'll find him quite easy to lead to bed, to whatever end, once she's finished what she needs to do.

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