Okay, so not on the roof, but when she'd knocked the first time, she hadn't been sure the place was empty. Hmm. Well it can't hurt to try again, right? Shifting the straps of the bag she was carrying on her shoulder, tugging the leather of the jacket down. Should she try the door? What if he was drunk or something? Hesitating, before she gave in, rapping on his door again, in three loud bursts.

Drunk? No. Sleeping? Yes. In an attempt to not drink himself into the hospital, the cloned Irishman has been lately sleeping. Quite a bit. When you can't play guitar or write music, or find any way to occupy yourself that involves staying in - and Sunset was right, there really is nothing on TV anymore - sleeping is one of the few options you have. Letting out a semi annoyed groan, Oz drags himself from the bed, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the door, dressed in jeans and not much else. "Yeah, yeah... Quit yer bloody noise and hold on for a moment, would ya?" He grumbles, fooling with the locks before swinging the door open.

Well, she'll feel bad for waking him, but be thankful he's home. Once door parts from jamb, she's holding her breath a second. Slowly going pale, but for a flush along her cheekbones. "Ah didn't mean to wake ya, Ozzie." Quietly, a glance back up towards the stairs leading up and up to the roof. "Ah woulda called first, but Ah didn't feel right." Black bag slung over the shoulder of black leather jacket left open over a sapphire blue and black corset style top like he had picked out for her once. Black skirt, and high heels. "Ah was hopin' to talk to ya. Can Ah come in?"

Glancing over her for a second, Oz shrugs one shoulder. "Woulda woke up eventually anyway. Not like I can't get back ta sleep later." He answers, stepping away from the door. "Want a drink?"

"Ya got some juice or somethin'?" She promised Sunset, after all, stepping in and shutting the door behind her, engaging the locks almost as quick as a native new yorker. "Ozzie.." Bag set down, blue eyes drawn to him like a magnet. "Ah need ta talk to ya, sunshine. About thin's Ah said."

At first not answering, focusing on that whole... gracious host thing, Oz heads into the kitchen. Returning a moment later with a bottle of orange juice, and nothing for himself, the singer flops down into one of the chairs, leg hooked over one of the arms. "So talk." He murmurs, holding the bottle of juice out to here. "Believe it or not, I actually know how ta listen."

Slipping out of her jacket and dropped on her bag, bottle left alone for now, moving so she's standing in front of the chair. "Ah, Ah was hurt, an' mad, an' feelin' guilty an' sorry for myself an' everything. Ah'm sorry, Ozzie. When Ah told ya to go back to Bridget if she'd have you, Ah said it for all tha wrong reasons. If she'd make ya happy, Ah'd go away. But truthwas, Ah'm half scared ya wanna go back ta her, an' Ah thought maybe if Ah told ya to, it wouldn't hurt so bad. Ah thought maybe wantin' ya for me was selfish, because she was here first."

Eyes rolling ever so slightly, Oz tosses the juice bottle onto the couch, free hands reaching out to pull her into his lap. "'Cause she was here first?" He repeats. "Ya know, ya make me sound like a bloody piece of land when ya put it that way, love. Didn't I already tell ya I don't got tha bloody right ta stay with her anymore, anyhow?"

"Ya loved her first, is what Ah mean. She was part of your life first. Ah just happened along by accident." Letting herself be pulled into his lap, snuggling herself to his chest. "She loved ya first. Ah guess Ah jus' was tryin' in mah messed up fashion to respect that. " Daring to look at his face. "Why don't ya have tha right? She said she'd forgive you." A frown, confused, before she's shaking her head. "Ah still feel like hell, but Ah don't /want/ ya ta beg her back. Whether it makes me selfish and wrong, or not. "

"She said she'd forgive me when she thought we'd only been tagether once." Oz corrects, somewhat gruffly. "Doubt that offer still stands. 'Sides, if ya don't want me ta, why ya keep bringin' it up?"

Sabrielle bites at her lower lip, fingers wandering to run along his jaw. "Ah jus' want ya happy, Oz. Ah don't know how to handle any of this. Ah don't know what to say, or do. Ah jus' came to beg ya to forgive me, an' ask ya not to.. well, damnit, Ah want ya with me!" Impatient temper at her own inability to speak makes her blurt it out.

Eyebrow quirking, there's a bare hint of amusement in Oz's eyes. "Oh, really?" He chuckles, grinning devilishly, head turning to lightly nip at her fingers. "Now why ya make it sound like that's so hard ta say, huh?"

"Because it is. Ah'm not good at this stuff, ya know." Shivering when he nips at her fingers, making her whisper. "Especially since Ah tried to hard to mess it all up before."

"Not meanin' ta sound like a jackass 'bout it all, love, but ya are talkin' ta tha guy that knows pretty much every way to make the woman end tha relationship." Oz murmurs. "Hate ta admit it, but it's true. So if ya gonna try that trick again, better try a bit harder."

"Naw, Ah think once is enough. Ah try to learn from it when Ah mess up." Eyes glancing up, before she's leaning up to kiss him. "Forgive me Ozzie, please?"

Kissing her in response to the question - one of his trademark, breathtaking, near bruising kisses - Oz's arms wrap around the empath to hold her close. While he can give out as many pretty words as he wants, this is easier, quicker, especially with Sabrielle's powers. If she wants a positive answer, she's getting it.

He'll feel the way she's been so still, holding herself tense, just stop, arms sliding around his neck. She can't quite stop the sharing of her relief that he's forgiving her, even as she's kissing him back just as hard as he's kissing her. Hand lifting to stroke at his cheekbone.

Chuckling slightly into the kiss, unable to stop a slight grin, Oz pulls back ever so slightly. "Happy 'bout somethin', love?" He asks, lips barely a whisper from hers.

"Call it bein' happy ya aren't gonna kick my ass out for bein' stupid tha other day, hmm?" Nibbling at his bottom lip, leaning into him. "Ah don't mean ta be stupid like that."

"Ya wasn't bein' stupid. Ya were trying ta do what ya thought was the right thing. Just kinda... backfired is all." Oz murmurs, giving a slight growl before kissing her again, quickly. Glancing down at her outfit again, scared eyebrow raising, he runs a finger along the hemline of her shirt. "How long ya had this?"

Sabrielle shivers, fingers rubbing along the back of his neck. "Oh..couple weeks, maybe?" To answer his question, a faint grin. "Ah don't know a lot about a lot of things that come with datin', but Ah know one thing. If somethin' has worked before, why fix it if it ain't broken?"

"Like since we went ta that bloody mall coupla weeks?" Oz questions, smirking. "And I think we got two diff'rent definitions of broken there, love."

"Oh, jus' maybe. Since someone was actin' like if he kept touchin' me, he was gonna get burnt, he must not have seen me buy this one. Why, what's your definition of broken, sugah? Ah was jus' thinkin' if it's been known to work, why tamper with a known formula?" Kissing down the side of his neck, just a glimmer of her power letting that need to have him touch her bleed through to him.

Readily complying with the need, one hand running up her leg, the other slipping her her shirt to trail his fingers up her backbone, Oz gives a slight growl. "Before we get anymore inta this conversation, let me tell ya somethin', love. Ya can either keep feedin' me those feelins of yers, and I can work on those, or we can talk more, but i can't do bloody both and keep concentration on either task."

There's a faint squeak at his fingers along her backbone, nipping harder at his neck. "Well, ya have been a /pretty good/ boy. Ah tol' ya once ya were healed up, an' we told everyone we had to tell, didn't Ah?" Glancing up from under her lashes at him. "Ya have forgiven me, an' we're all right now, aren't we? What else do we need to talk about?"

"Right now?" He growls, moving them to the floor in a quick and almost graceful movement, loosely pinning Sabrielle's arms by the wrist above her head. "Don't really care. Wanna give that make up sex thing a try?"

"Well Ah didn't mean next week." Sassed back, before her breath catches at having her wrists pinned. Blue eyes seeming almost to glow as she stares up at his face. He'll know from that contact that she's surprised by the dominance, yet she isn't. She even seems to like it, all but washing away that ping of nervousness at it. Laughing at him. "Think this was a big enough fight, then?" Winking up at him. "C'mere,Ozzie. Ah missed ya." It would seem that her answer is a yes on all levels.

---

Log. April 19, 2008. Cheshire Cat.

Another day, another time in the bar. And being that it's Saturday, Bridget gets to have an early start to disprove the 'Happy' in happy hour. Sitting by herself in a booth, she simply sits, nursing her bourbon whiskey her drink of choice recently.Eyes blankly look to the empty booth across from her, mind pretty much blank.

"Room for one more?" The question is hesitant, guilty, but the voice is still familiar. While Bridget may have been avoiding going to her apartment at all, this is the first time in days that Oz has left his home. But avoidance cannot go on forever... especially when an apology is deserved. Dressed as usual, there is one difference about Oz in that his eyes are oddly clear. No alcohol, or no nicotine. Trying to be a better person any way he can.

The blank expression fades as the question is laid out. Her lips slanting downwards into a slight grimace. The glass is lifted as Bridget downs her drink, perhaps a bit quicker than usually recommended as her throat burns. "Yes," she replies, starting to scootch out of her booth, "I was just leaving."

"Bridget..." Letting out a frustrated sigh, Oz runs a hand through his hair. "Can ya stay? Just for a minute... I just wanted-" Damn, this would be a lot easier with alcohol. "Just wanted ta apologize and explain some things.

The blonde pauses in mid slide, eyes narrowing to Oz. The frown settling back into a neutral expression, "What's more to explain? You got drunk, you screwed another girl, and then thought, I'll go for the newer model." She restarts the sliding out of the booth, apparently having little intent for sticking around, "Your explanation may be lengthier but that's what it boils down to, isn't it? I REALLY don't need you to be rubbing my face in it anymore."

"Except with tha whole rubbin' yer face in it part." Oz mutters, stepping in her way. "That ain't what I'm bloody tryin' ta do, all right? It's just driving up tha fuckin' wall, what I did ta ya. I know it wasn't right and I sure as hell know ya didn't do nothin' ta deserve that, and I'm tryin' to make it right or as best as I can! So will ya just stay put for five bloody minutes?"

Bridget does indeed stop. Mainly because she is still without the MA v2 PE and Oz could easily stop any shoves she could do to him. She frowns, sliding back in, side pressing against the wall, putting as much distance between her and Oz as possible. "You want to know how to make it right?" She murmurs in reply, face turning towards the wall, "There isn't."

Shoulders slumping ever so slightly, Oz gives a slow nod. "Figured that..." He quietly answers. "Figured it was worth tryin' anyway." Turning to leave, hands shoved in his pockets, the Irishman pauses to glance over his shoulder before walking off. "If it's worth anythin'... I still love ya. And words can't tell ya how sorry I am that this happened."

"Don't bother lying," Bridget replies, eyes still set on the wall, " You never did. I was the rebound."

"If ya were tha rebound, I would have fucked ya and thrown you aside within tha week."

"I gave you a new LIFE," Bridget dismisses, one of her fingers tracing the rim of the empty glass, "And your sister too. Nothing more than a temporary obligation... And once I served my purpose, and you found my replacement, there's no point in keeping me around." She sighs, still hiding her face, not bothering to brush back any hair that falls along the side of the face, "My fault really. Should have figured it out early on... With the exception of Alistair, who came from a COMPLETELY different value system, relationships are built upon people's perceived value of others. Just WHAT they can do for others. I should be used to people using me... really."

Turning back around to face her, Oz says nothing for a moment, observing her instead. "Tell me somethin', love. If ya think I did nothin' but use ya all those months... why ya still wearin' tha ring I gave ya?"

Fingers rest on the ring as the head looks towards it now. "Because it reflects the status of my heart... not yours." The table is hit with a drop of water. "Unlike you, I can't really forget at my convenience."

Fingers twitching, Oz's heart is screaming at him. Reach out, comfort her, stop her crying, make it better, make it better, make it better. However, he doesn't move. There's no way to make it right, and he knows that once she's made her mind up about something, there is no use trying to change it. "Wish ya didn't believe that... But I guess I don't blame ya." Giving a heavy sigh, Oz turns again. "I'll just leave ya be, then."

There is no response to Oz verbally, her hands sliding under the table as another drop joins the first. A slight nod is given. No more, no less.

---

Log. April 20, 2008. West 46th: Oz's Apartment.

Oh, what a beautiful day. The sun is out, the temperatures are up, and winter is officially gone. And inside his apartment, Oz could not care less if he was being paid to do so. Now with two redheads after him to rest, quit drinking, and quit smoking so he can heal faster, why even bother going outside? Lounging on the couch, guitar beside him, the clone for now is busy scribbling things in a worn notebook, crossing lines out and rewriting constantly. What better to write songs about than cheating on a girl and the break up afterwards?

A knock sounds upon the door, interrupting the creative process.

Glancing up at the door, eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance, Oz is tempted to let whoever knocked stay out there. If it wasn't for the fact that the only other person with a key to the apartment is Sunset, he would. Tossing the notebook and pencil aside, he pushes himself from the couch, reaching the door in a few quick steps. "Yeah, yeah, hold on." Undoing the locks - For what is a New Yorker without a locked door? - the door opens easily enough.

"Hello, Oz," says Otto Octavius, all high-collared black coat and sharks-eyes goggles. A silvery tentacle whips out from hiding to shove the clone brusquely backwards, making room for the multi-armed menace to enter.

Oh... Bloody hell. Letting out a grunt of pain as he's shoved back, Oz grimaces slightly. Bit further to the right, and he'd have hit the incision. Lucky Oz. "'Lo, Boss. Long time no see."

"Indeed." Octavius lets himself in, closing the door behind him with another tentacle. The others arch and loom, filling the available space. He gives the apartment a brief survey, then tilts his face toward Oz. "There was a story I heard once about a rich man who goes away on a long sabbatical. Before he leaves, he brings forth his two servants and gives each a gold coin. When he returns, he calls for the servants and asks them what they did with their coin." He pauses a beat. "One servant tells how he used the coin to invest in business. He presented the gold coin, plus a thousand more.. The other servant told of how he'd feared his master's wrath, and had thus hidden the gold coin away. He presented the coin alone." The tentacles slither forward with a quiet rattlesnake sound to surround the clone. "Which servant are you, Oz?"

Quietly listening, warily watching Otto, Oz is silent for a moment after the question. He may not be the smartest person, but he knows that this is a answer that should probably be thought about. "Which servant do ya want me ta be?" He's just the dog on the leash, right? Since when does he get a choice for what to do?

Otto sighs in a long-suffering kind of way. "Precisely." A trio of jointed claws snap closed about a foot away from Oz's head. "Very well, what /have/ you been up to while I was away?"

"'Bout tha same as anyone else in this city." He answers, eyes darting over to look at the claw. "Stay alive. Which I reckon is somethin' that would be a bit easier if tha bloody jellie man ya got in yer hold as well didn't decide to stab me in tha gut and made me a lose a spleen a few weeks back."

"You should be more careful." No, Octavius seems not at all predisposed to punish Zachery on Oz's behalf. "Why did he attack you?"

"We got inta a fight, 'bout tha same as we always do every time we meet." Oz shrugs, moving back to the couch. "I backed off when he brought the scalpel out, 'cause even I ain't that dumb ta try and win in a knife fight with just my fists. He stabbed me anyway." Fuck this. Where the hell are his smokes? Smirking slightly as he lights a cigarette, Oz chuckles. "'Course, he already got his punishment for that and then some."

Otto folds his arms together underneath the shoulder-drape of the big black coat. Flatly: "Elaborate."

"Oh, I didn't do nothin' ta him, if that's what yer thinkin'." Oz grins. "Just heard that someone managed to set his room on fire with him inside it is all. Bit too sophisticated and subtle for my tastes, but it got the job done."

Otto shakes his head and turns his back on Oz. "It would be," he says, as he paces away toward the further end of the apartment, "much more useful to me if you two were to limit your primitive aggressions to those who are /not/ in my employ. Or, ideally, to those who would place obstacles in my path. Yet I cannot blame you for lacking the will to override your baser natures."

Eyes narrowing slightly at that, Oz schools the anger out of his expression after a moment. "It'll be easy enough, long as we ain't ever within five feet of each other. Isn't like I plot about ways to cause him pain." Taking a drag off the cigarette, the clone does his best to calm down and think about what he says for once. "So, whatcha need me for? Can't imagine ya would just pay me a visit ta be social."

Otto turns back around, regarding the clone with a thin frown. "For the moment, I simply wished to confirm your existence, your general state of health, and your inability to evolve. I shall require your skills, such as they are, soon enough. For now, however, you remain free." He starts toward the door.

Free? Surely, you jest. Holding his tongue on that, Oz nods, stubbing out the cigarette. "Ya know where ta find me if ya need me. Nice seein' ya back, Doc. Life was startin' ta get borin'."

"I wish I could say it was pleasant to be back," Octavius says sourly as he pulls his extra limbs back under his coat and opens the door. "But this city would frankly be better reduced to rubble." And on that note, he departs.

Making sure that Otto is gone and gone for good - or at least, temporarily - Oz moves from the couch to look for the phone. There are some people he needs to call.

---

Log. April 22, 2008. Milburn - Sabrielle's Apartment.

Sabrielle was buzzing around the tiny kitchen. Frying chicken, classic mashed potatoes, biscuits in the oven. She's invited the Irishman to dinner, because cooking helps her think, and thinking is what she needs to do. She needs to puzzle out their whole relationship, and why he hasn't told her all of this. Red hair half pinned up, halter style lilac sundress, with bare feet. Heeled sandals were by the edge of the couch, but it was easier to move around in bare feet. Blues playing from her stereo, giving her something to sing along with thoughtlessly.

Oz isn't dressed any different than he ever is. Black jeans, black shirt, boots, duster. Ta-da. Hand running over his head, sending the spikes into even more disarray, the other hand raises to the door. Knock knock.

"Hang on!" Tearing off the little waist apron, though wouldn't he love to see her in that? Bare feet running across the carpet, sounds of locks being undone before she's jerking up the door. Slightly flushed from the heat of cooking, blue eyes looking up to him. "Heya, sugar, c'mon in."

First thing's first, Oz pulling her to him as soon as he's in the door, kissing her like he'll never see her again. Knowing his luck, and his ability to screw things up without even thinking about it, there's a good chance that this could soon be true. His own damn fault for making a deal with Otto Octavius, really. And second thing's second. "Mind me stayin' here for a few days, love?"

"Mmph!" The kiss was a little unexpected, even as she's rising up on her toes to kiss him back, arms around his neck. Ragged inhale when he lets her go, eyes a little dazed. "What was that for?" Smiling faintly, before she's blinking. "Sure ya can, sugar. Why, somethin' tha matter?" Door shut, before she's hurrying back into the kitchen.

"Need a reason ta kiss ya?" He asks, eyebrow quirking. Following farther into the apartment, he avoids the second question a bit longer. "I'll remember that in the future and start writin' stuff down." Rubbing the back of his neck, Oz grimaces slightly. "And I kinda got evicted."

Sabrielle laughs. "Ya don't normally kiss me quite like /that/. Lucky Ah got mah empathy shut off before Ah opened tha door. " Taking bicuits out of the oven, then shedding pot holders to get plates from the cupboard. "What? Evicted?" Plates still in her hands as she's looking at him. "Whatcha mean kinda? What happened? Was it somethin' with Bridget? "

Taking the plates from her and putting them aside, Oz shakes his head. "Kinda as in, it wasn't tha landlord that evicted me." He answers, before pulling the letter that was left for him, handing it out to Sabrielle. In the gist, get out and don't come back. Love, your friendly neighborhood Daredevil. "Found it stuck on tha window sill with a knife. Window was broke too. Awful nice of 'im, ain't it?" He sarcastically mutters.

Sabrielle looks down to the note, reading it as her color climbs in her cheeks, teeth gritting. "Ah thought he was supposed ta be a /good guy/." Yeah, the empath is a little ticked off. "But you're okay?" Eyes running over him, making sure. She wasn't seeing anything that might be physical pain. "Ya know ya can stay here as long as ya need ta,Ozzie." Handing the note back to him. "As soon as ya tell me what this stuff is about ya bein' a clone an' a slave to some psycho." Moving back to start fixing plates.

"Little pissed. Fine, other than that." Going to put the note back in his pocket, Oz tenses as the last sentence registers. Bw-huh? "What?"

"So ya weren't there when he did this, then?" Potatoes, biscuits buttered, before she's going for the still hot chicken. Stopping long enough to turn and look at him dead on. "Ya heard me. When were ya gonna tell me, Ozzie? You're a clone of tha man ya used ta be? Yer a slave ta some psycho?"

... "Okay, bloody first." Oz grumbles, falling back into a seat, frowning. "How tha /fuck/ do ya know about that?"

"Take a plate, Oz. Might as well eat. Does it matter how Ah know? Ah know now, an' Ah didn't hear it from tha man Ah shoulda. You."

"Last time I checked, wasn't tha law ta tell ya bloody everythin' 'bout me." Oz answers, metaphorical hackles raising. "Tha less ya know 'bout all of that, the safer ya are. Might as well forget 'bout whatever ya already heard." Rising again, his eyes narrow slightly. "Who told ya?"

"Tellin' me yer a clone, that you are a madman's slave? Ah think that ranks up there with stuff that should be disclosed, don't ya? " Calmly ladling gravy over her potatoes. "Don't try ta keep me ignorant, thinkin' it'll protect me. It /won't/. " A slant of a look. "Ah know. Focus on that."

"Well, from what it sounds, ya already know that whole bloody story. What else is there for me ta tell ya?"

"Ah know ya made yerself a slave to get a body. That ya used ta be part of /ANGIE/. When tha hell were ya gonna tell me Ozzie? Didn't ya trust me enough ta tell me?"

"Not a bloody issue of trust." He snaps. "God forbid I don't tell ya tha bad thing's 'bout me, huh? But if ya wanna know 'em, fine. Work for a bloody evil genius. Already helped him rob a bank. Before that, I got Angie put in jail overnight for bar fights. Before I even knew her or Sunset, I went on trail when I was for killin' my da' with a bloody fuckin' shovel but got off in self defense. And somewhere out there, got a daughter who's the same bloody age as I am. What else ya wanna know?"

Ladel slammed down, splattering gravy on the counter. "Ah told ya about tha things in mah life that scared me most. Ah told ya what happened with me an' Justin. Ah tol' ya all tha bad things. What, Ah'm not strong enough ta hear tha truth, Oz? What!" She's mad now, even as he's spouting out all the dark things, pupils widening in her eyes. "Oh, yer gonna say everythin', now? Christ, Ozzie! Fuckin' eat before Ah swear ta gawd Ah put ya to yer knees! Ah need a moment, all right?"

Letting out a frustrated growl, Oz sits back down, lighting a cigarette instead. His appetite seems to have else where.

Sabrielle takes a deep breath. "Okay. So yer his servant, his slave, because he gave ya yer own body away from Angie's. Getting Angie busted don't rank so bad, she's a big girl. An' that trial...that wasn't you now. THat was tha you before, right? " She pauses then. "Ya've got a little girl?"

"Doesn't matter if it was tha me before. Would do tha same thin' all over again, if I got the damn chance." Oz answers. "Bastard killed my baby sister. Beat my mum and me. So I killed him. Simple as that." And Sabrielle would be able to see he's serious and telling the truth as well. Snorting, Oz gives an unamused grin. "Wouldn't call her little. If my math is right, she's either the same age or a year older than me."

"Ya had reason, plain an' simple. Ah was lucky. My parents didn't beat me, or drink, or any of that. But if my daddy or anyone else laid hand on my momma, ya know damn well Ah wouldn't hesitate ta take them down, an' ya know full well Ah wouldn't make it pretty." Teeth gritting a moment. "Sunset has a daughter like that. Ah can handle that."

"Ain't ever gonna have ta handle it. Not like I'm set on trackin' her and Jordan down ta tell 'em everythin'." Oz answers, smoke escaping with his words. "Got a ashtray or ya want me ta use a cup or what? Hate ta light this place on fire."

Sabrielle grabs an old coffee mug, a tiny bit of water into it, before it's being offered out to Oz. "Ah don't have any real ashtrays. Ya might wanna bring yours from your place. Ah only ask ya don't smoke in tha bedroom. How long do ya wanna stay? "

Taking the cup with a nod of thanks, Oz shrugs. "'Til I find another place ta live? Would ask if I could live with ya since everythin' else we already done is bloody insane, but. Don't want ya meetin' Otto. If I ever fuck up, he'll hurt /you/ instead of me. And then I'd really do something stupid."

"Ozzie, after everythin' else, Ah'm not much scared of this Otto guy. Sunset doesn't seem to be. Ah guess ya just need to not fuck up, huh? " Coming over close enough to bend low to give him a kiss. "Scare me, ya do, Ozzie. But Ah still want ya here. "

"Ya should be." He answers, in response to her not being scared. "Sunset may not seem ta be, but she is. So am I." Kissing her back, much in the way he did at the door, Oz frowns slightly. "Want me here how, 'xactly?"

"Here, Ozzie. No reason for ya not to be, is there? Ah don't care who's after ya, who wants ta be tha big bad in yer life. Ah want ya in mah life. Havin' ya here? Well, Ah guess we'll see if ya can really handle me, huh?"

Silent for a moment, Oz finally raises an eyebrow. "Well, if that's tha case, ya gotta know one of my rules 'bout movin' inta a new place."

Sabrielle pauses, brows arching. This should be good. Moving, retrieving the plates, putting one with a fork on it in his lap. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Setting the plate aside and far away from him as he can reach, Oz grabs Sabrielle by the waist, pulling her down into his lap. "Christianin' every room in this place before I even unpack." He grins devilishly, tongue curling behind his teeth.

Lucky him she hadn't gotten her plate yet! A squeak at being yanked into his lap, face flushing as she squirms. "Oh, ya think so, do ya?" But she can't help laughing.

"S'a rule. Tradition even." He answers. "Can't break it. Pretty sure somethin' bad would happen then."

Sabrielle is beet red, hiding her face against the side of his neck. "Ah've never had sex here. Ya sure it's gotta be done, huh?"

Pulling back to peer at her, Oz raises an eyebrow at her. "Ya just told me ya never had sex in yer own bloody apartment, and yer asking if it /has/ to be done?" He repeats, sarcastically. "What ya think?"

"Well, Justin almost never came here, an' it's not like he an' Ah... alot anyhow." Oh yes, blushing furiously now, biting at her lip. "Just been here for months now, seems a little late." Teasing.

"Well, obviously we'll have to christian every room a few times over just ta make sure."

Sabrielle rolls her eyes, biting the side of his neck with a playful growl. "Yer jus' incorrigible, ya know that Ozzie?"

Letting out a growl of his own that could easily be a purr, Oz chuckles. "Ya expect me ta be anythin' else?"

"Ah'd probably think ya were comin' down with some illness, if ya did." Amuses, nuzzling against his neck. A put upon sigh. "Guess this means no more tank top an' boxers ta bed."

"Oh, ya can wear 'em ta bed." Oz replies, cheekily. "Just ain't gonna keep 'em on for long."

She smacks his arm playfully. "Ozzie, Ah'm serious. Ah gotta think about them kinda things."

"Pray tell, why?"

"Ozzie, Ah don't know what happens with my empathy when Ah'm asleep. Sometimes it might be okay, sometimes not." Head on his shoulder, so she can kiss the side of his neck.

"Ain't like nothin's happened before." He points out, running a hand through her hair. "Nothing might not happen. And if it does happen, then it happens. Dealt with it before and everythin' was fine, wasn't it?"

"not yet. Doesn't mean it /won't/. If ya had a nightmare, it very well could. An' yeah, it worked out okay last time, but if we're sleepin', Ozzie? Ya won't know ta move away. Could make it...really bad. " She can't say it, holding back.

Shrugging slightly, Oz sighs heavily. "If it happens, it happens." He repeats, kissing her lightly on the temple. "Doesn't mean we won't get through it."

Sabrielle grits her teeth, taking a deep breath. She hates saying it, but she has to know he understands. " Ozzie, if Ah go under, an' tha source of emotions doesn't stop touchin' me, it can put me in a coma. Like in tha hospital, on an IV thing."

"Well, what so ya want me ta do, love? Not touch ya in my sleep? If yer near me, I'm gonna find a way ta hold ya, especially while sleepin'."

"Ah didn't say that, Ozzie. Jus' sayin' Ah gotta be careful. A sheet over me, somethin'."

Nodding, Oz is silent for a moment. "Ya know, before this particular conversation started, was thinkin' 'bout carryin' ya over to tha couch and havin' my way with ya."

She bites the tip of her tongue. "Guess havin' me for a girlfriend can be kind of a buzz kill, huh?"

"Well, now that I brought it up, 'm thinkin' 'bout it again." He smirks. "Just wonderin' if ya feel up ta it, is all."

Okay, he had her there. "Why wouldn't Ah? Ah mean, it's not like ya gotta worry 'bout all that right now, huh?"

"Ya tell me. Do I?"

Sabrielle blinks. "No, Ah got it turned off right now. Have since ya walked in tha door. Ya never seemed worried before, Ozzie."

"Didn't know I could send ya inta a bloody coma before."

"You're scared."

"Worried. There's a difference."

"Ya never seemed worried before. An' without turnin' it on, Ah'm still pretty sure yer scared. Ya ain't sent me inta a state like that yet, Oz."

"Yet." He repeats, snorting. "'Xactly." Resting his head on her shoulder, he frowns. "And I /ain't/ bloody scared."

"Liar." Softly. "It's only ever happened twice, Ozzie. Both when Ah was a kid still."

Kissing the side of her neck, her cheek, her temple, Oz shrugs lightly. "Just don't ever wanna be the reason yer hurt."

Sabrielle shivers, drag of nails along the back of his neck. "Ozzie, Ah'd rather it was ya touchin' me than anyone else. Because ya /wouldn't/ ever want ta hurt me, an' that matters."

Not choosing a verbal answer, Oz instead cups his face in her hands, kissing her again, long and passionately. Breathing somewhat heavily when he pulls back, he gives his usual devilish grin. "Couch, kitchen counter, shower, or bed?"

There's a whimper, he just loves to kiss her like that when she's not expecting it. Flushed, eyes searching his face. "Kitchen counter is out until Ah do tha dishes." A grin. "Up to ya."

Bottom lip catching between his teeth for a moment, Oz looks as if he's seriously debating this situation. "Hm..." He finally answers, smirking. "Might as well get all three done just ta be thorough." Standing and holding her in his arms as easily as if she were a doll. "Still yer apartment, though, love. Where to first?"

She squeaks at being just picked up and carried about like that. Still new to her, new enough to make her curl up to his chest. "Hmm" As if it were an important matter. "Couch, bed, then shower, huh?"

"Makes since to me." He murmurs, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest like thunder. Moving them both to the couch, Oz lays Sabrielle down first, gently. Carefully crawling on top of her, hands moving to again pin her wrists above her head, his next words possibly ruin his dominance stance. "Love you."

She pretends to squirm, knowing that strong as he was or not, if she wanted free, it would happen. "Love ya too, Ozzie." Whispered, eyes running over his face.

Oz grins. "Good to know." he answers, before leaning down to again press his lips to hers.

---

Log. April 29, 2008.

Tagari prowls the streets in the evening dimness. Hunting- decisively looking for something. Occasionally she stops, looks to one side or other and whispers part of a murmured conversation; 'not here', 'but we need it', stuff to that affect. The madling's wings flitter and flap; missing their primary feathers, but showing the delicate nibs where the new ones are growing in. Slung from a shoulder, is a battered army-navy surplus map bag.

The redhead is in a long sleeved black t-shirt, a pair of faded jeans, heeled boots, and carrying a messenger bag slung across her body. "We should get more whiskey for tha apartment, probably, while we're out. Think Ah need ta pick up some other things, too. Ya got enough smokes? " these are the things she's thinking about while walking along the street with the Irishman.

"Bloody hell, woman. Didn't realize I'd be gettin' another mum when I moved in with ya." Oz mutters, reaching into his find a pack of cigarettes. Well, she did bring them up. Why not have one? "Wanna make sure my shoes are tied, while we're out here?"

Tagari stops, perks up as she hears Oz's voice, flares her stubby wings and hollars; "Ozzy-Ozzy-Ozzy!" The bird-girl's voice starts off uncertain, but soon builds to frantic repetition.

"Ah didn't realize makin' sure ya had enough cigarettes was bein' a momma figure. " Slanting a glare his way. "Ah jus' don't want ya havin' a Nic fit at 3 am. Anythin' else I should never ask ya about, tryin' ta be nice? Trip over yer own laces, see if Ah care. " A flinch, pausing at hearing a familiar voice calling Oz's name.

"Buy a few cartons a day, love. Considering I smoke six packs a day, I learned to stock up." Oz remarks, uneffected by the glare. She'd get use to the sarcasm thing, he's sure. Blinking at the familiar nickname, the clone raises an eyebrow Tagari's way. "Tryin' ta make sure ya never forget my name, there, Poppet? Or ya just that damn excited ta see me?"

Tagari trembles, stares at Ozzy. "I can't think straight and you're the only one I can see here. I can't see Jimmy and I'm gonna get lost. Are you dead? I gotta find stuff. It's imporant. Important. He's sick and I gotta fix him," she rattles off briskly.

Glancing at Tag, then at Oz. "Ah didn't know ya knew Tag, Ozzie." Surprised? She really needs to stop being so easily surprised. "Tag? Ya won't get lost, sugar." Looking at the Irishman.

"Oh, yeah... We go way back." Oz smirks, smoke curling out from the edges of his lips. "And no, Poppet. I ain't dead. Come back in a few weeks and see if it's changed, though, yeah? With my luck, ya never know... Who's sick?"

Tagari's wings continue to twitch. "My friend. But I can't find stuff for him if I can't focus and he shouldn't be doing stuff himself because he's sick and..." she shrugs, wings drooping. "I don't want to be a bad friend."

Tag always has a soft spot in the empath's heart, even when she's making the redhead want to scream. "Which friend, sugar? What his name? Ah'm sure you're not a bad friend, honey, we'll help ya, if ya tell us what ya need ta get him, an' who he is."

Brow furrowing, Oz frowns thoughtfully. "How's he sick, Poppet?" He asks. "'Member that sister I told ya I had? She's good with helpin' people, s'pecially sick people, and she don't ever want anythin' for it, if yer in a bit of a hurry."

Tagari slumps to sit on the ground. "No doctors, no doctors. Doctors are ever so bad and he'd never forgive me. I tried tea. He liked that. And soup. And he's got a fever and what if I'm just messing everything up and we don't know it? I don't think I'm supposed to tell.'"

Sabrielle looks at Oz. "Take me to him, Tagari. Ah'll take care of him while Ozzie gets his sister, okay? Ah can help take care of your friend until she gets there, okay? Ah can help him if he needs ta be. No doctors, okay?"

"Nah, Poppet, ya got it wrong. She ain't a doctor. She can't stand doctors." Oz shakes his head, kneeling down to Tagari's level, arms resting on his knees. "She's a bit of a... voodoo lady, if ya need a term. All in the magical ways of tha world. she'll help ya friend, and help him right. Trust her more than anybody with people that need help."

Tagari looks to Sabrielle, finally aknowledging her. "Too many people." Turning her head towards Oz, she hisses, "I'll tell you but it's a secret and if you tell anyone else I'll kill you."

"Tag, it's just me. Sabrielle. Ah ain't gonna tell anyone. " Looking over at Ozzie, conused. "Jus' wanna help your friend, honey."

Glancing over at Sabrielle, Oz holds a finger up to his lips. "Just between you and me, kiddo." He answers. "Promise."

Tagari tilts her head this way and that, staring at Oz firmly, before she walks up to him, standing up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

Tagari whispers, "It's my friend Julien. He's coming clean and it makes him sick-sick-sick. Do you understand? I was there once but I fell. I can't have him fail." to you.

Sabrielle watches the exchange curiously. She's already been moody lately, and this isn't helping much. Blue eyes fixed on Oz for the moment.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Oz taps a finger against his lips, thoughtfully. "Ah... Now, if Sister Dearest already knew this bloke, and already knew 'bout his... hobbies, would it still be considered breaking a secret to tell her he needs help?"

Tagari draws back from Oz. "I don't know." she replies. "But I need him better. And I don't have the magic. I can't lie to him." She gives her head a shake.

"Tag, Ozzie's sister could help make him better. "Still watching Oz. "An' no one would call a doctor."

"Whatcha think, Poppet? Wouldn't take us two shakes ta get ta her house." The Irishman asks, holding a hand out to Tagari to take. "If ya can resist poppin' away until then."

Tagari shrugs again. "I'm tired. Tired tired. Can't telewhatsit no more."

"We'll get your friend help, then we'll make sure you can rest, okay, Tag? Maybe get you some soup, for tryin' so hard to help your friend."
You will now be notified when it's your turn to pose.

"That a yes, there, girlie?" Oz asks, smirk flitting over his lips. "Ain't no use in me startin' ta lead tha way if ya ain't gonna follow."

Tagari rocks on her feet, and nods her head. "I can follow. I can follow," she says softly. "If it's safe?" she adds, but there's something about how she says safe that's just a twitch skewed, tonally, doesn't match the rest of her wordage.

"Well, jus' relax, tag, it'll be okay. It'll be safe. Won't let anythin' happen to ya or yer friend, okay?"

"Probably one of tha safest places in New York City." Oz nods. "Knowin' her, I'm surprised anyone else can even get inta tha place, with all tha protectin spells she got everywhere."

Tagari whimpers. "The magic won't hurt me will it?" She looks from Sabrielle to Oz. "I don't have magic," she informs them, wings twitching.

"Ah don't have magic either, honey. It won't hurt you. Ozzie's sister is really nice. She's my friend, too. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Nah, Poppet. It won't hurt ya." Oz answers. "Big Sis is a lot like me. Probably be able to see her, too."

Tagari looks to Oz. "Lets go then. He needs it. I don't want to hurt him by doing the wrong thing, Ozzy. He's my best friend. You know?"

"She won't hurt him, Tagari. She's not like that, okay? We'll make sure your friend gets the help he needs to get better. Promise." Not something she should promise, but she is.

Nodding, Oz jerks a head in the direction of Beacon. "Follow me, then. Won't take long ta get there at all."

Tagari skips after Oz playfully, wings flittering about. Like a kid going on a walk.

Sabrielle slides her hands in her pockets, head down, walking along with Oz, trying to keep pace with his longer legs.

It's only a few moments before they arrive at an apartment building that should be familiar to all three occupants of the group. Beacon does, after all, tie most of the game's characters together, one way or another. "You'll bring her up?" Oz asks, pushing the up button on the elevator. "Hate ta run off, but I got that gig. Considerin' I'm tha singer, I'm kinda needed."

Tagari glares at Oz as he mentions leaving, but doesn't vanish, though her wings twitch and beat fairly solidly a moment. She doesn't say a thing.
"Yeah, Ah'll take her up to Sunset's sugar. Be careful, ya hear me? Don't need ta have ya missin' any more organs. " Tugging him close for a moment, just to kiss him quick. "See ya later." The elevator doors open, and the empath steps in. "Come on, Tag honey. We'll go on up and get that help, okay?"

Tagari looks to Sabrielle. "It's getting loud here," she says dazedly, but follows Sabrielle into the elevator.

The redhead tilts her head. "Loud how, honey?" Pushing the button for Sunset's floor.

---

April 20, 2008. Oz and Sabrielle's Apartment.

Well, 'mum' like or not, the empath had gone to the liquor store, after the grocery store, having left Tag in Sunset's capable hands. So the cupboard and fridge were full, and so was the liquor cabinet. Or it should have been, except she was tinkering in the kitchen, an array of bottles and mixers spread over the counter. The stereo is on rather loudly, a shuffled set on her ipod, heavy on Disturbed and Nine Inch nails.

Arms wrapping around the empath's waist from behind, Oz gives a low chuckle. "Ya do realize tha possible risks that playin' 'Closer' anywhere in my hearin' range can cause, yeah?" He asks, chin resting on her shoulder, glancing over the counter. "So let's get in all conversation possible before that song comes on. What tha bloody hell are ya makin' all these drinks for?"

Sabrielle jerks, stiffening for a second before she relaxes against the Irishman somewhat. "Not sure Ah've got it on there, ta be honest." Smirking, a shrug. "Not exactly romantic, that song, eh?" Tipping her head to glance at his face. "Ah'm tryin' new recipes, with tha bonus of gettin' drunk from tha experimentin'. " Why she wants to be drunk, she's not saying. "So what are ya up to, Ozzie?"

"Not a song that's s'pose ta be romantic, last time I checked." Oz smirks. "Think it gets it's point across just fine though, considerin'." Head tilting curiously, the clone raises an eyebrow. "Well, I was thinkin' 'but some stuff, but tha topic of alcohol has changed the subjects in my brain. What have exactly have ya made so far?"

"An' gawd knows ya agree with tha song." Drawled with sarcasm. Finger pointing to various shot glasses. "Magnolia maid, Rusty Nail, Scottish Guard, Irish Buck, and plain' ol' bourbon an' lime. Ya wanna get drunk, make yer own." Bumping back at him with her rear, snickering.

"Ya know, when most people say new recipes, they mean stuff that ain't been done before." Oz reminds her, not denying her first statement. Why bother with lying? "So, I got a different question for ya. Ya know how ta dance?"

"Well Ah ain't measurin' nothin' out, so that's changin' tha recipe some, isn't it?" Being a smart ass. "Was thinkin' Ah'd learn a bunch of new drinks, get a job as a bartender." Snickering, before she's laughing outright. "Ah took dance classes for more than ten years, Ozzie."

"Oh, really?" Spinning her around, and lowering her into a perfect dip, Oz grins. "Care ta see who's better, then?" Yes, he can dance. Don't tell anyone.

"This isn't exactly dancin' music unless ya want me practicin' ta be a stripper, Oz. An' Ah doubt ya dance in a classical ballet style, darlin'." Giggling. "What's gotten inta ya? Ya were all cranky with me before."

Grin widening, Oz pulls her back up to him. "Sure ya want me answerin' that first sentence?" He asks, before shrugging. "Wasn't bein' cranky, love. Ya'd know if I was. Just had a lot on my mind. Get sarcastic when that happens."

"Despite how ya act sometimes, Ah don't think ya'd be a very big fan of me dancin' an' getting mostly naked in a room fulla drunk strangers, Oz. " Stealing a kiss. "Lot on yer mind like what, honey?" Blue eyes watching his face. Careful Oz, she'll know if you're lying!

"Strangers? Nah, not really. I'd be in jail. Now, if we got a stripper pole installed the bedroom... That'd be a different story." But certianly not a home decor accessory to show off to Mom. "And just band stuff, really. Wonderin' if we should tour a bit after this summer when we get back. Try and get a bigger fanbase since the one here in New York is already pretty good."

"What, get jealous of men oglin' yer woman, would ya Ozzie?" Teasing him, yes indeed "We are not puttin' a stripper pole in tha bedroom. Heck, like Ah even know how to pretend to be sexy, much less do it in a roomful of people. " Scoffing, mocking herself. "When ya get..oh ya mean when we get back from jus' wanderin' this summer? We haven't talked about that much since we got back."

"Oglin', touchin', talkin' ta, and just 'bout anythin' else." His tone is joking, but the truth is still there, for most of those listed options. "And yer a ballet dancer. Sure it'll be easy for ya ta learn. ain't like I'mma bein booing ya if ya don't do good." Please? "And well. We never said we weren't. Figured the plans were still on."

"Correct me if Ah'm wrong, but aren't most of tha girls that are dancers like that tan, an' like wearin' skimpy clothin'? Not to mention tha silicon. Though with mah empathy Ah could probably make a killin', ya know. " Kissing his chin. "Ballet is nothin' like shakin' yer ass and slippin' yer clothes off, Ozzie. " Giggling. "No, no, Ah still wanna go, jus' we ain't been talking about plans much lately."

Chuckling, Oz leans down to steal a kiss, taking his time before pulling away. "Didn't think we really needed a plan. Wingin' it seems like it would work just fine. Pack up what we need, get on tha bike... Just ride ta where ever."

Stop the presses. "Ya want me ta go 'round tha country on yer motorcycle? Ozzie, Ah do have a car, ya know. It's down home, but we can fly down there, ya can meet my Momma an' we can drive. Jus' Ah wouldn't ever be able to spell ya, we take tha bike."

"Woman, ya really think I'd be caught alive or dead ridin' bitch on my own damn bike?" Oz sarcastically asks, scarred eyebrow raising. "Ya ain't gonna need ta spell me. Can lift a ton and a half, and got tha stamina ta match it. I'll be fine."

First time she's ever heard that charming term. "Oh, so /Ah/ can ride 'bitch', is that what you're sayin'? Ozzie, Ah've never been on a motorcycle, even. Ya want me ta go cross country on it?" Scared, her? Oh no, never that.

"S'the only term I ever heard for it, love. Don't mean anythin' by it, and ya know that." Oz frowns. "And it's a while until summer. Can always ride 'round tha City until then, see how ya like it. Ya know I wouldn't sugest it if I thought ya'd be in danger with it, Sabs."

"An' what 'bout when it rains? Ah jus', Ah'm tryin' ta be practical. Not any fun, am Ah." Quietly tapering off, resting her forehead against his chest. "Ah don't have super strength or anythin' like that, Ozzie."

Giving a quiet sigh, Oz wraps his arms around her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. "Don't gotta take tha bike, love. Just ain't much for flyin', is all. Not as fun." He murmurs. "Still got that Mustang. Somehow."

"No, we can take it, Ah can tell how much ya wanna. Jus' a little scary for me to think 'bout, is all. " Biting at her lower lip, snuggling against him. "Whatcha mean somehow? Isn't tha Mustang yours?"

"Nnnnot... really." He answers, hesitantly. "Kinda found it abandoned with the keys still in it back when all the alien crap was goin' on." Yeah. Whoops. "Turns out tha original owner is kinda dead, so I just kept it."

Hands push at his chest, trying to take a step back to tip her head back to look at him. "Ya found it. It's still stealin', Ozzie!"

"Not really like anyone is around to report it stolen, is there?" Oz retorts, before shrugging. "Doesn't matter. Already found someone to fudge the papers sayin' I bought it before the whole alien fiasco. Ain't near the most illegal thing I done when it comes ta fraud. I'm a bleedin' clone and I still exist to tha government, love. Pretty sure that's a lot worse than fakin' buyin' a car."

"It's still stealin'! What if they had family, or a will or somethin', Ozzie? An' then forgin' fake sale papers an' pink slips? Ya expect me ta be okay with that? Bein' a clone is one thing, you're still a person, ya need tha papers, but theft and fraud?"

"Still ain't tha worst I done." Oz reminds her. "And if ya wanna know, yah, I checked all that. Guy didn't have a family, didn't have a will. Bloody hell, love, might not be a pure hearted person, but I ain't heartless."

"What is then? Are ya gonna tell me, or spring it on me later? " Stepping back, hands behind her on the edge of the counter. "Because he doesn't have a family..." A shake of her head. "Christ, Ozzie, Ah could buy ya a car like that, ya wanted one. Jus' what if he hadn't been dead? What then?"

Forget the murder thing already, love?" Oz frowns, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. "And then tha bank robbin' thing for Boss. Not sure if I told ya 'bout that." After a moment, he shrugs again. "Woulda gave it back." And Sabrielle should easily be able to tell he's telling the truth. "And I wouldn't want ya buin' me somethin' like that. More important things ta spend it on, ain't there?"

"That wasn't murder, ya said so yourself! If he was beatin' on.." Blinking. "For that mad scientist guy..ya robbed a bank? Hell, Ah'm datin' a fuckin' felon. Fanfriggintastic. And like what, Oz? What do Ah ever need, that would be more important than gettin' ya somethin' ya want without it bein' illegal?" Turning around, leaning on the counter. She felt like the world had been jerked out from under her.

"If they knew it was me, yeah. Felon. Video tapes had a bit of a problem with 'em all bein' destroyed and what not. And didn't do it alone. Was helpin' him. If ya forgot, either I do what he says, or I die. Not had ta decide what ta do, yeah?"

And all that liquor, just sitting there. Screw it, she's going to start drinking. "Great. Ah'm datin' an evil henchman. " Muttering, before she's downing one of those shots. A shudder, shot glass thrown in the sink, before she's rubbing her hands over her face. Turning to look at him again, blue eyes overbright. "Nothin' else, ya hear me? Damnit Ozzie, ya know Ah'm crazy about ya, but no more. No more forgin', no more fraud, no more stealin'. We'll... think of somethin', for dealin' with crazy scientist."

Oz nods, not even daring to think of whatever loophole could be in that. For now. Otto Octavius is not a man you say no to, when he tells you to jump. "Alright."

"Ah know ya got no choice with him, Ozzie, but tha rest of it, Ah mean it. Please? No more of tha stuff ya can't get out of."

"Alright, love. Promise." Moving away from the wall, Oz hesitates a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around her again, unsure to if she'd push him away or not. And there's a feeling of an unasked question, along with the knowledge that it's a very stupid question.

She goes still, before she's burying her face against his neck. "Ah mean it, Ozzie. Ya can't change what's been done, an' stuff with what's his butt is complicated, Ah know, but Ah can't have it, sugar. My daddy was a cop fer cryin' out loud. Ah've never so much as stiffed a parkin' meter." Muttering.

"Bloody hell, you have got to be tha first completely innocent person I've ever dated." Oz mutters. "Don't know whether ta feel obscene or make some sorta lewd comment."

"Why does everyone say that? Ah'm not innocent, Ah'm not naive, damnit!" He gets a sharp slap from her hand on his shoulder then. "Ah jus' believe in right an' wrong! Ah was raised like that! "

"Learn ta take a joke, love." Oz answers, the slap not even phasing him. "And tha world ain't easy enough to be put inta right and wrong, black and white. Shades of gray are everywhere."

"Yeah, but stealin' a car ain't a shade of gray, Ozzie! It's hard for me ta think ya'd do that. Not knowin' how ya are with me." A little hiccuping sound now. Here's hoping Oz knows how to handle a crying woman.

In his defense... Finder's keepers. Or something like that. Something that makes sense. "Shhh..." One hand running up and down her back, Oz lifts her face to his, kissing her forehead, her cheek, tongue darting out to lick away a tear. "Don't cry 'bout it love. Ain't gonna willingly be doin' none of it anymore, alright? Promised ya I wouldn't, and I stick ta my promises."

Good thing he didn't say it, or she'd do more than slap at him. Eyes shutting, taking in a deep breath, shutting her emotions off, even if it would be bad later. "Ah jus' don't know how Ah feel about tha fact yer only doin' it 'cause ya promised. Ah feel like askin' ya is wrong, but jus' ignorin' ya doin' it would be worse."

"Not 'xactly a good person, love. Got a sense of morals, and honor, but they're a bit skewed. Ain't tha worst person, no, but I ain't really tha best, either." Oz quietly speaks. "Had ta find out 'bout it one day. Still, ain't like it's a constant thing. Don't do it for a livin'. Fix cars. Try tha whole rock star thing. Don't kill people, or deal drugs. Could be a lot worse."

"But ya are good, ta me. Took care of me when Ah blacked out, when Ah was all tore up over tha things Justin said." Things she still has dreams about, but that's a subject she never brings up. "Jus'..nothin' illegal, all right? Ya don't have ta anymore, except for mister crazyman, an' Ah'll think of somethin', Ah promise."

"Already promised ya I wouldn't, love." Pause. "What 'bout smokin' in public areas?"

Sabrielle gives a snort, pinching him. "Ya know damn well Ah think that's a stupid law."

Giving a small growl, Oz pinches her back. Though it is doubtful that Sabrielle pinched him in the same place she is currently getting pinched. "eye for an eye, love."

She gives a squeak, rising up on her toes, poking him. "Ah didn't pinch ya like that, Ozzie!" Hugging him again.

Grinning down at her, Oz chuckles, arms wrapping around her waist. "How /else/ would I pinch ya, huh?"

Rolling her eyes at him, before she's leaning against him. "Ozzie,..are ya happy? Ah mean not puttin' on a front ta fool me, because ya know Ah won't look past tha surface, but Ah mean.. Ah know this isn't how either of us planned things. Ah jus' wanna make ya happy."

Taking a deep breath, Oz lets it out in a sigh, cheek resting against the top of Sabrielle's head. "As happy as I can be." He answers. "With tha world like it is, don't know if anyone can be truly happy. Course, it could just be my bad luck, but. Ain't really tha type of person ta be really happy all tha time. Got moments that make me realize I am, but it ain't something I constantly think 'bout."

"Ain't many people happy all tha time, Ozzie. Trust me on that one. Tha people we pity are normally tha happiest people there are. But life ain't that simple. Ah jus' don't want ya getting bullheaded an' bein' here with me if it makes ya unhappy, is all." Squeezing him a bit tighter.

"Yer tha person that makes me happy." Oz murmurs, placing a kiss on top of Sabrielle's forehead. "You and everythin' 'bout ya."

"Even bein' all innocent and good two shoes an' all that?" Quietly, just standing there with him. "Drivin' ya nuts because Ah ask ya if ya need anythin' from tha store?"

"That ain't drivin' me nuts, love. Was just bein' sarcastic with that, really." Oz remarks. "And maybe I like the innocent thing. More for me to corrupt."

Another snort, playful shoving at him though she knows it won't move him anywhere. "Well that's good, Ah guess. Since this is who Ah am, huh?"

Smirking, Oz answers her by stealing a kiss. "Already workin'. Gettin' violent already."

"Bah. Ain't bein' violent, tryin' ta put ya in yer place. Gotta be a tough woman." Smirking. Run of fingers along his jawline. "Ah'm gonna go ta bed, Ozzie. Finish up them shots for me?"

"Can I take them off of ya, and then go ta bed with ya? It'll be just like we're two random people at a bar." Oz grins. "'Cept with less chance of catchin' anythin' or an awkward mornin' after."

That makes her giggle, shaking her head. "Ah'm not sure Ah got enough ta do shots off of, do Ah? Ah mean, if it'll make ya happy Ozzie, whatever, ya know me. Ah'll try anythin' once."

Grin widening, Oz picks Sabrielle up, setting her on the counter, careful to not knock over the drinks. "Ya ain't near as flat chested as ya think, love." He rumbles picking up one of the shots at random, and balancing it in between the top of her shirt and skin. Leaning forward to nip at her neck, Oz's tongue darts out to trace a trail down to the glass, pulling it out to stand, head throwing back to drink the shot down. "Just once?"

Sabrielle squeaks at being picked up, only to look at him slightly wide-eyed. "Well, for a gymnast an' a dancer, an' someone my size, Ah'm pretty all right. But Ah'd never make it as an exotic dancer, like Ah said earlier." A grin before she's shivering, biting her lip to hold still and not spill the alcohol. "Twice if Ah like it?" Arching a brow at him.

Giving a smile - the same smile the snake must have given Eve before she ate the apple - Oz gives a low laugh, reaching for another shot glass. "Three if ya love it." Placing the glass in the same place as before, Oz pulls the same move again. The difference this time is there is more biting involved.

A full body shudder, giving him a mock glare. A whimper at the biting, leaning in to steal a kiss before he can set up another one. "Ah meant one night, silly. Ya can do all tha shots ya want." Winking at him.

"Again with me askin' just one." Oz lowly answers, leaning closer to her. "Considerin' we live together, don't really think I could handle havin' just one night. But if ya want me treatin' this like a one night stand... Don't be expectin' ta walk tomorrow, yah?"

Sabrielle goes rather scarlet with that explanation, a moment of stunned silence before she's giggling. "Well Ah more than like spendin' tha night with ya, silly. Crave that. " Feet out to hook behind his legs to pull him in. "Though ya wanna pretend like it's some crazy night at a bar, we can."

"Did I ever tell ya I love when ya turn that color?" He asks, again picking her up to where she's more supported by him than the counter. "'Specially since it makes me wonder 'xactly how widespread that blush gets..."

"Think ya mighta mentioned it, a time or two. " Smirking. "But it still makes me feel better when ya say it. " Wrapping legs around him. arms over his shoulders. "Ya makin' lewd suggestions there, Ozzie?"

Holding her closer, Oz smirks. "Do I ever make any other kind?"

"Ah try not ta make assumptions. Ya might make a clean one someday." Stealing a kiss. "Think we should turn tha stereo down a little?"

"Hell no." Oz growls, kissing her again, turning to bring them both towards the bedroom. "What if 'Closer' comes on?"

"Ah run away an' change the song?" A giggling grin, another kiss, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Ya really jus' wanna be rough an' wild tonight, huh Ozzie?"

"Tha hell ya will." Oz growls again, kissing her as he kicks the door to the bedroom shut. No more talking.