Narcotic Dollie — Roleplayer Guild

Collab between @MyCatGinger, @Bozo and @Narcotic Dollie

“Hah, no. Clean yourself up.” Oliver smirks, placing yet another cigarette in his mouth. “Whoever did that deserves a punch in the throat.”

Nori can't suppress the giggle at that last part. “It was Kyle’s best friend, the one I told you didn't like me,” Nori explains, cutting on the water and letting it warm up. “She's really famous and I think she has a thing for dressing people up, or something.”

“Ah, the idol from that one movie. God, what was it…” He snapped his fingers. “Rain, Rain Go Away.” 

He exhaled a puff of smoke, absentmindedly scratching the bandages on his arms.

“Amity, was it?"

“Yeah, Amity Bellerose. Some people call her Amie though,” Nori confirms before starting to scrub her face clean. “She is….um…,” the blonde fumbles for a moment, trying to be as polite as possible. “...an interesting girl.”

Nori studies herself in the mirror for a moment. Her flaxen locks were still pulled back in the ponytail Amity’s assistant had done for her earlier, so the DJ takes it down, finger combing it so it’ll lay right again. When she’s done Nori thinks she looks more like herself than she has in days, maybe since before the fire. 

It felt good.

“She was acting really...I don't know, predatory, I guess? But she stopped whenever Kyle came in,” the florist tells him, gathering her discarded clothes and the rest of her toiletries before exiting the bathroom.

“That's honestly one of the other things that made me decide it'd be better not to see him anymore. She seems really possessive of him, scarily so. She even called him…,” Nori pauses here, making a face, “...her Kyle-Bear.”

“Not creepy at all.” Oliver returned, shaking his head in disbelief. “It's hard to believe how someone can be so crazy yet everyone fails to notice it.”

He looks at her once more as she continues to pack, tapping his foot as he looked at his watch. “Need any help carrying all this stuff down? You don't look like a bodybuilder.”

Of course he was joking. His job entailed him always being politically correct, so he was quite glad when he got to speak his mind. 

“I'll start with this bag.”

“Thanks, dad. I never would have been able to carry them both on my own,” Nori says, the response dripping with sarcasm, but she was still grinning at him. It was nice to have someone to kid around with. 

“Alright, that's everything. Thanks for coming up with me, Oliver.”

“No problem.” Oliver responded, narrowing his eyes at her as he suppressed the urge to chuckle. “Ah, you're so funny Nori. I wish that I had met you a long time ago. You could be on tv with a personality like that, why waste your time DJing and spinning discs around?”

He awaited her response as he began to inch out the door.

Nori stopped, flushing a little under the unexpected praise. “Flatterer,” she accuses sweetly, smiling enough for one of her dimples to make an appearance. She grips the other bag and shoulders it, letting the detective lead them out the front door. “I don't really know, honestly, I just always thought I wanted to do it.”

“But I've been having doubts about it, lately,” she confesses, locking the door behind them and waving at Rehelio. 

He didn't respond. 

“I haven't gotten the prime time slot yet and I've been working there for about a year and a half now. Plus, with all the weigh-ins, skimpy dress codes, and groping I put up with, it  just doesn't seem worth it, sometimes.”

“I'm good at it though,” Nori tells him, adjusting her grip on the bag.

“You should let me listen to one of your songs later.” Oliver chuckled, “You have to learn to follow what you want to do. And hell, if that ain’t the club, then you could always find some other avenue in which to follow your dreams. Many doors close, but many more open.” 

He opened the door to his surprisingly untouched car, loading in the bag he had been carrying. “I’m thirty one and still haven’t made up my mind about what I want to do with my life. Regarding detective work, however, I can safely say that I enjoy it. After all, there’s a certain satisfaction in putting a man behind bars.”

Holland wouldn’t admit that he felt rage and guilt about the people he had failed over the years. He was but one man trying to fix the world. Such a task was impossible, he realized, when as soon as he saved a life another had ended. With late nights such as these, he had a lot of time to think on why he hated this fucking world. 

“I enjoy it.” He repeated.

“I don't have my own turntables anymore. Or a computer with decent mixing software,” Nori explains as she stuffs her bag into the backseat. ’Fire got those too,’ she adds mentally, so as not to bring it up again with the detective.

She was starting to realize that Oliver felt way more guilty over it than he should. After all, he really hadn't had any way of knowing that the Weatherman was going to burn the place down. “If you really wanna hear a song, you’ll have to come see me at work sometime.” she tells him, sliding back into the ford.

Oliver nodded, inserting the keys into the ignition and pulling out of the apartment complex’s driveway. 

“I’ve never been one to go to clubs. I’m too old for that now, as you can see. And, probably couldn’t seeing as now I look like a goddamn mummy who escaped from Egypt.” He growled, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he closed his eye, and, sighing, turned to her. “Sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s just this has been difficult to deal with. I used to be such a fucking handsome man.”

He chuckled.

“Or that’s what my mother said.”

“There are still things about you that are handsome,” Nori says quietly, very pointedly looking out the window. They pass by a group of homeless people huddled around a honest to god trashcan fire. “Like your eyes. Or your chin.” The scenery has become incredibly interesting. “Anyways, I’ll burn you a CD sometime, so you can listen to me without having to come to the club. If you want.”

“Ha, glad to know you’ve been looking at me.” Oliver replied, glancing at Nori as he drove. He had noticed her gaze wandering during their little exchange in the flower shop. Slight changes in body language, shifting gaze, slight pickup in her breathing. “Oh, so you like blue eyes and strong chins, hm? Are you looking out that window hoping to find some?” He joked, turning his attention back to the road. “And I’d like that, Miss Haywood. I’d like that very much.”

“S-shut up,” Nori mumbles, scratching at her nose and coughing. If it appeared that her face was any redder than normal, it was only a trick of the light. After a moment or two the blonde carefully shifts her gaze back to the other man, noticing his attention was back on the road. Good. “So, what do you do in your free time, Oliver? Besides smoking like a chimney, of course.”

“Smoking like a chimney? Is it really that bad?” Oliver questioned, feigning shock. “Well, I suppose when I’m not working or smoking it’d be gambling. I love those dice, Miss Haywood. I’m pretty good at twenty one blackjack.” He turned to her, closing one of his eyes and smiling behind the bandages. “I suppose I just like to push my luck.” 

“It’s your business,” she tells him in reference to the smoking. “It is kind of gross though.”

“I’ve never been gambling,” Nori admits, toeing off her shoes again so her feet can return to their rightful place on his dashboard. “Besides, it’s not smart to take risks like that when you make the kind of money I do. I’d be broke in no time.”

“Well,” she starts after a brief pause. “More broke than I am now, anyways.”

“Just don’t worry about financial matters as long as you're with me.” Holland replied, once again turning on the heat. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. School books, beauty products, clothes, hell, I’ll even get you some new DJ equipment.” He shrugs, breaking at a red light. “I owe you that much, at least.” 

“School books?” Nori repeats, holding one of her hands over the air vents so it can warm up faster. “I don’t go to college, Detective Holland,” she informs him, studying his bandaged face in the glow of the traffic light. If she was being honest with herself Nori was a little self conscious about her lack of schooling, but the blonde did her best to not let it show.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I need something,” the tattooed girl reassures him as she gives her other hand a turn in front of the heat, but the DJ had no real intentions of asking Oliver for help with that sort of stuff. Nori was sure she could work it out on her own without too many more hand outs from him.

“Alright.” Oliver chirps, giving her a wink. “Damn, how late is it anyway?” Oliver suddenly asks, glancing at the dashboard. “Huh, it’s actually not that late. You feelin’ tired, Miss Haywood? Want to head back to the apartment, watch some webflix and chill-”

He paused, staring past the windshield and eyeing a car that was swerving just a little too much. 

“Hold on.” He muttered, shaking his head as he flipped on the flickering lights of his squad car. “Drunks are out this time of night.”

“Oh wow, we’re really doing this right now, aren’t we?” Nori says quickly as Oliver cuts on his red and blue lights. The blonde takes her feet off the dash and toes her flats back on. It probably wouldn’t be very professional of her to be barefoot when the detective pulled this guy over.

Nori sort of felt bad for them, whoever they were. But then again, driving drunk was incredibly dangerous. It was probably for the best, so they didn’t hurt themselves or someone else. “Go get that miscreant and make Shine City a safer place,” she teases, sticking her tongue out as Detective Holland pulled the ford behind the other car. “I’ll watch your...six? That’s cop talk, right?”

The man behind the wheel on the vehicle the duo spotted had very peculiar silver hair.

“No…” Oliver muttered, tapping on the window. “It couldn't be…”

The silver haired professor groaned in annoyance at the red and blue lights that suddenly appeared in the corner of his vision. Cops who didn't know how to enjoy themselves on New Year's Eve, probably.

It didn't help his demeanour that the man was now more of a mess than when he parted ways with the fashion photographer, Suzy. His hair was dishevelled, hat rested on the passenger seat and he probably smelled - no, reeked - of alcohol.

Shou Matsuoka was not an alcoholic.

…Shou Matsuoka was not an alcoholic.

That didn't quite explain the cheap liquor he kept in the glove compartment of his Ford. Not in the slightest.

Alas, he was forced to pull over. A car tailing you was never a good sign. With his head spinning a little still, he managed to bring the vehicle to a halt.

Now all there was to do was wait. Shou knew the crime he'd be charged with.

Drunk driving, huh? What a good way to start the new year…

With a pang of hesitation, and an odd annoyance making him click his tongue, the professor, relentingly, pulled down the window with a sigh.

“...yes?” he mumbled, alcohol strong on his breath.

Oliver was too busy looking at the notepad in his grasp to notice the professor, rather, he instead continued to drone on about the legality of drunk driving and swerving on the road like some sort of maniac. 

“Now, I’m going to need to see your license and registration. Judging by the amount of swerving you were doing back near that stoplight, it seems you’ve been having a little too much fun this new year.”

He scribbles down something in his notes, before looking into the driver’s side of the vehicle.

“Next thing it’ll be the straight line test and…”

He paused.

“Shou?” He let the pen fall from from his grasp, the writing device rolling from his palms and hitting the asphalt below. “Is that really you?” 

“Huh?” the professor, with hooded eyes, raised his eyebrow a little. And then his eyes widened.

Was this a true to life mummy, or something?

Unfortunately, despite the police uniform, this immediately made the professor take the situation a lot less seriously. Was someone playing a New Year's prank on him, or something?

“Yeah, officer.” he taunted, and if he was a cat, his feline pupils would already be in slits. He was reaching for his wallet, but found himself stopping midway, looking the man up and down. His vision was blurry, though...the contact lenses didn't quite make things better.

“Listen.” he brought his voice down low, threatening. His eyebrow quirked at the man using his name. Sure, the dropping of the pen was a nice effect, but who was this person, who knew him, out in the middle of the night?

“I do not know who you are, or what you want, but I am going to tell you this just once. If this is some prank, I swear…” he slurred.

“Don't fuck with me.”

Dee couldn’t help but take a glance back towards the squad car, eyeing the DJ that currently sat in the front seat. She had called him Oliver earlier, but he didn’t actually believe her. Still didn’t. However, he suppose he could roll with it just this once.

“Shou Matsuoka…” He began, all of a sudden taking a cigarette from his back pocket and placing it in his mouth. “You’ve got a perty mouth.” 

He raised a lighter to his lips, igniting the tobacco as he took a puff, wisps of smoke lingering amidst the cool winter air, blowing into the open window of the Professor’s vehicle. “Shall I ask you to step outta the vehicle? Because, while I always considered you a drinker, I never suspected you’d actually go ahead and drive drunk.”

He raised a finger. “What’s with your getup? You look like that asshole from Sailor Moon. I didn’t know you were into kid cartoons.” 

He shrugged. “You know I’m gonna have to bring you in.” 

The Detective pointed to his squad car. “Come on, I’ll take you home...again.”

“How do you know who I am?” the professor demanded flatly when the man blew puffs of smoke into the open window of his car. What a peculiar smell...what a familiar attitude. “And what gives you the damn right, pal?”

“I...there was a ball.” he replied curtly. He took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night, especially if this man had no intention of answering his questions. 

And then it clicked.

“Come on, I’ll take you home...again.”

“...O-Ollie?” he stammered, knuckles blanching where his hand was still holding the steering wheel. His free hand rubbed his eyes again and again and again. He was probably imagining it. There was no way in hell…

“L-listen, you...you sick son of a bitch.” he growled. His eyes were steely, trained on the man's. He even got the colour of Oliver's eyes down, those confident azure irises…

“I don't know who you are. Or how you know so much about me. But if I were you, and I'm not some lifeless fuck, I'd…” his voice shook.

“I'd bite my own tongue before trying to...impersonate my best friend. Capische?”

“What are you talking about?” Oliver/Dee questioned aloud, giving the Professor an incredulous stare as he spread apart his arms. “It’s me,” He began, glancing back at the squad car. “Oliveeer...”

He trailed off, lowering his outstretched arms as a look of concern began to spread behind his bandaged face. “Damn, this is the worst I’ve seen you. Must be some more girl troubles. Remember that one time at the casino? You had like, what was it, five long island ice teas? And in my mind I’m going ‘damn, how’s this guy not dead from alcohol poisoning yet?’ But you know,” He shrugged. “You always did get fucked up on holidays.” 

He took a step back, glancing at his bandaged forearms. “You’re probably wondering why I look like a raisin wrapped in toilet paper.” 

The Detective looked down, patting his kevlar vest as he explained. “Getting burned alive can do that to you sometimes. I was wondering why there were so many voice messages from you!” 

Holland cracked another grin, snapping his fingers and pointing to the flashing police vehicle in the back. “Now get in the fucking car!” He said with a smile. 

That sealed it. There was no way someone could know even that about Shou. In his inebriated state, the memory was still crystal clear. This was years ago, and it was such a good memory. Just the two of them, young and on top of the world. He found himself incredulously nodding with the man at the end of the recollection.

“Burnt...alive?” he whimpered, his previous bark being lost for a genuine concern. Through the open window, he reached out his hand tentatively, tracing his fingers across the bandages on the man's cheek.

“Ollie...is that really you? Oh god, oh god...what did they do to you?”

He was shaken, and even though Oliver was trying to keep things light, Shou was evidently in shock. He tried to smile though, for his best friend. He even managed a little chuckle as he stepped out of the car. Briefly, he wrapped his arms around the bandaged detective, body evidently trembling, before stepping away and giving him a dopey, if still melancholy smile. “How come you're always saving my drunk ass, huh, Ollie? Damn, I...can't believe it's really you.”
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