Lana Arwen Lazar

Part 2: High-strung

  Lana's small ounce of worry almost came true. She jumped violently, and almost almost swallowed her cigarette only half burned. She was so high strung lately, she was afraid she might end up shooting somebody by mistake. Again. 

She fought the urge to cough, and pulled the cigarette safely away from her face. There was silence as she waited for the visitor to realize nobody was going to answer the door, and go away. 

The person knocked again. She still didn't move. Whoever it was, was going to have to come back another time. She was not in the mood today. Then a voice sounded from the hallway, unyieldingly familiar. It made her cringe. 

"Lana I know you're home, I can hear Patrick snoring." It was Astrid. Lana glanced at Patrick who was laying at the foot of the wardrobe on the other side of the room. His eyes were drooped closed and air came out of his mouth in heavy huffs. She cursed him silently. 

Then Lana yelled back making no effort to hide her annoyance. "Lana's not here right now would you like to leave a message?" 

There was silence, and Lana could just picture her blue eyes rolling. Lana put out her cigarette out in an empty tin can that sat on the nightstand next to a bottle of whiskey. She sat up grudgingly. 

And then the door opened, and then Astrid was standing there in her room in all of her perfect glory. She had a sort of plasticity to her. Blonde hair and blue eyes; she was like a Barbie doll, but smarter. She could pass for a Chemist Barbie, or a Professor Barbie. 

"Damn it, I thought the door was locked," she muttered. To tell the truth, she didn't remember if she had locked it or not. She hadn't given it much thought. She wasn't worried about anyone stealing from her, she didn't have much worth stealing anyway. And especially now that Drake was dead, and Caine was preoccupied she wasn't in any danger of anybody hurting her. Nobody would hurt the healer.  

"Why does it smell like smoke in here?" Astrid coughed, looking around with a crinkled nose. 

"Patrick was smoking a joint," she said almost seriously, "Jeez what do you think?" 

Then Astrid's eyes fell on her, and her expression changed from mild disgust to one of concern. Lana had to fight the eye roll which was hard because it was an instinct reaction for her. 

"You look terrible." 

She hadn't looked in a mirror for a while, but she knew it was true. It was more than the standard FAYZ effect too. She was unearthly pale, her lips were colorless and cracked, and her eyes were red and tired, with some major baggage going on. 

Lana's lips twisted into what passed for a smile for her, but wasn't really. It wasn't even a half smile, a quarter smile maybe. More of a smirk. 

"Thanks." 

Lana found herself fidgeting. Her hands were empty without a cigarette and her fingers were itching for her gun. 

"There better be some major emergency Astrid, because otherwise I might shoot you." 

"You wouldn't shoot me." 

Lana wondered for a second if Astrid the genius had gotten stupid, but then she realized this was her trying to be brave. 

"Don't overestimate me," Lana replied simply. 

"There's no emergency," Astrid said, "I'm here to talk. Sam said you were having a tough time." 

Lana groaned internally and did something a little more offensive too. She felt her face hardening into it's usual mask. She gave Astrid a good glare and then, instead of reaching for the gun like she really wanted to, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey that sat next to her and poured herself a drink. 

Astrid pinched her lips together. 

"What?" Lana sighed. 

"Nothing." 

"What's with the face?" 

"What face?" Astrid asked innocently, as though she really didn't know what she was doing. 

"You look like my mother," Lana complained, "Honestly it's called a drink Astrid you could use one. I could use a stronger one. But alas, alcohol is a little hard to find nowadays in Perdido Beach." 

Astrid squinted her eyes at her, probably noticing her bloodshot eyes and the fact that she had just used the word 'alas.' 

"Are you drunk?" 

"Alas," Lana said again, she liked the word, it made her feel like she was in some medieval play. Anywhere but here. "I am both drunk and hungover. It's quite the sensation." 

 Astrid had her judging face on. 

"Really though," Lana re-advised, "Start drinking and  you might be less annoying." 

"You think everyone is annoying, except yourself maybe." 

"Oh believe me, I'm plenty annoying." 

Astrid's eyes still didn't lose their pointedness.  

"Don't look at me like that," repeated Lana, "I need to drink alright. Me sober these days? Not pretty." 

It was true being sober was a chronic fear of hers. 

"No comprende," Lana drawled.