Mistakes, Guilt and Drinking it away

Damnit...He mentally cursed. He didn't really want to tell her what was really wrong with him, it was something he didn't like sharing with anyone. The fact that he could talk to the dead was hard enough to believe, I mean it's very hard to prove that he actually had the ability and wasn't just insane, but telling her what was wrong would also mean telling her about what happened with that dead guy specifically. He actually felt angry at himself for making a scene he saw it, he should have maintained his composure, he had seen far worse things than a man with a bullet in the head and didn't even blink, but the thing that really affected him was sudden resurfacing of the guilt. In truth, he was more upset that even though he was currently suppressing his abilities he still saw the man. That alone had him almost questioning his own sanity, was it actually a spirit or was it just a figment of his imagination brought on by his anguished mind? No, it had to be real. Well, as real as seeing the dead normally is. Thinking back, he hadn't been taking his medication as of late, he was certain that his control was improving to the point where it wasn't necessary, however that little incident just kicked that theory in the teeth.

His eyes drifted to Arabella. He could vaguely recall her voice when he was out of it a few seconds ago, it seemed sweet of her to show concern for him and despite himself, he felt kind of grateful that she did. He paused for a moment before answering her, contemplating what he would say. He could lie to her, just say that it was nothing important. He could be defensive, tell her it was personal and something she shouldn't involve herself with. However, that kind of thing was never his style. Plus, she had already told him something about herself, yet he revealed nothing that most people didn't already know. Of course telling him about her past wasn't really the same, but still.

"I...I'll tell you about it at the bar, I don't really want to get into it without a drink or two." Deciding to put it off for a little while at least, Omen walked on to the bar which had now come into sight. The lights were on and it didn't look to busy, meant that it would be relatively quiet and more importantly, peaceful. There would be no half beaten to death men in any nearby alleys, no costumed villains out for a stroll and no thugs looking for a fight...he hoped. Upon entering the establishment, his thoughts were proven correct as only a few people sat scattered around the bar, drinking silently and keeping to themselves. He was thankful for that, while some would see a depressing little scene of the illness that was alcoholism, he saw a saw a haven to people who wanted to drink away their problems. No matter how ineffective others would say this was, there was a reason so many people did so, him included.

Looking to the bartender, who was just leaning back against the wall, he whistled to gain his attention. The man gave him a bored, tired look, made sense considering he was working at such a late time and was in such a quiet bar. "A bottle of vodka and two glasses. Good vodka." He said, gesturing two with his fingers and emphasising good part so that he clearly meant a more quality vodka. He seemed to take his time in getting what was ordered, but he did eventually hand the bottle and glasses to Omen who then walked over to a booth, placing the items on the table and taking a seat. He opened the bottle hastily and poured it into the two glasses, taking his glass and throwing the drink down his gullet eagerly. The vodka was decent, not the best he'd ever had, but it was better than some of the 'piss water' he'd tried in his lifetime.

Omen took the refilled drink in his hand and drank it just as quickly as the first, placing the glass back on the table after. He still had yet to look at Arabella, he didn't know what to say. He could go with the straightforward approach and say 'I see dead people', but that thought was quickly shot down. He also could have started with 'Do you believe in magic?', but that was even worse than the other one, not to mention it sounded so much like a crappy pick up line. His eyes stared morosely at his empty glass which his hand was still softly gripping on the table. His thoughts took a darker turn at that point when he thought back to the face of the man who's death he had indirectly caused. Had he been faster to react, had he thought through what he was doing at the time, had he been less overconfident or even just disarmed the guy he wouldn't have messed up that badly and there would have been one less dead innocent. The guilt had been eating at his mind and he was about ready to just drown himself in alcohol, but was brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of another's hand on his own. Shifting his gaze to Arabella, he saw she was trying to calm him by brushing his hand reassuringly. He smiled warmly at her, she was a good person and even though they had met only that day, was probably the only friend he had in this country. For some reason, his worry about breaking it to her without sounding crazy was gone and he decided to just come out and say it.

"I saw a man named David Langin." He confessed. He paused for a moment as he took the hat from his head off and planted it on the table, beside himself, it was social convention to take off your hat when indoors. Looking back to Arabella he continued. "He shot himself earlier today." Another pause. "It was my fault..." His voice had become almost a whisper at that point and his eyes became downcast. Sure, he was used to taking lives in the past. His first kill was when he was a teenager for Christ's sake, but the kind of guilt that comes with someone, a man who didn't deserve it no less, dying because of your own foolishness can really put a strain on the mind. He wasn't even thinking about how she would react to him saying he just saw a dead man.

Omen sat back quietly, seeing her taking a drink from the edge of his vision. He didn't blame her, hearing from someone that they could see ghosts wasn't easy to take in, whether you believed them or not. Relief washed over him immediately when she had told him she didn't think he was mad. His head raised and he looked back to her as she stroked his hand with her thumb. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; he listened intently as she continued speaking, explaining why she reacted the way she did. Apparently she had seen people with similar gifts and she herself didn't consider herself normal, but he wouldn't pry at that just yet. While he didn't quite agree with her telling him it wasn't his fault that Langin died, he understood her point. He didn't put a gun to his head, he didn't intend for him to die and had he not been there there was a fair chance he was going to kill himself anyway. Omen felt the dark and weary mood he had found himself in become alleviated and a sense of calm take him as Arabella brushed his face with her hand. She seemed to be making physical contact to try and comfort him and if he was being honest, it was helping a great deal. Usually he would just deal with the baggage that comes with his ability alone, but he found that she was making it much more bearable.

"It's not that simple." He started, pouring himself another drink and downing it as he had done before. "I only see them when I choose to...or that's what usually happens." He still felt some shame for losing control of that earlier. "It's hard to understand them sometimes and not all of them have a reason, they're just sort of...there." He spoke honestly. He would never claim to have full control of his power, nor did he believe he would ever fully understand the dead. Everyone was different in their own right in life and in death they are no different. Some ghosts stick around due to unfinished business, some are only around for a few days and others just never pass on, remaining around for no obvious reasons.

Omen carefully considered Arabella's suggestions as to why he had seen the man whereas no other spirits had appeared. Any of her theories could have been correct for all he knew, but the one that was most disturbing was the idea that the guilt was making him see things. If there was one thing in this world he trully feared, it was losing his mind. He had been driven to insanity before and it was the most harrowing experience of his life. Of course the idea that he shouldn't be feeling guilty and wasn't to blame was a comforting thought, but he wouldn't really know for sure.

"Maybe..." His responded simply. He knew that she may have been right, but he was a hero. He dedicated himself to helping people and stopping psychopaths, that was his life, it wasn't much of one, but it was his. It was possible that the man didn't die because of him, but he still died on Omen's watch, he was right there and he didn't stop him, he couldn't stop him. It seriously made him think about his self entitled hero status, like whether or not he even deserved it, but that train of thought was stopped before it could progress any further. His thoughts went to the information he'd just learned about her, the fact that she could sense emotions was quite unique. In the past he had come across people with similar skills as her, and some like himself for that matter. He knew that while empathy could help understand others, it could prove a danger at times for some, feeling another's pain can be overwhelming.

"That's an interesting ability...sensing emotions I mean. I'd imagine that kind of empathy can be a burden to have sometimes, you ever have problems dealing with it?" He was genuinely curious about her, she was by far not the the most boring character he'd ever met and the more he learned the more interesting she became. He took this time to then get himself another drink, filling his glass and devouring the liquid substance eagerly.

Omen noted the frown that Arabella had adopted immediately after he asked her the question. He wondered if he shouldn't have brought it up it all, especially when he saw the way she looked before taking another drink. It was something he could sympathise with, struggling with your powers. That little incident outside proved as much. The last time he had completely lost control of his powers he tried to take his own life and was sent to a mental institution until he finally regained sanity. Even her reason for drinking was similar to his, and he understood her apparent disdain for the alcohol in America, it wasn't exactly the best in the world and while this vodka was probably better than the last bar's, it was still clear it didn't match her usual standard of drink.

"Just out of curiosity, just what is your other gift?" He asked, rasing an eyebrow. He was actually going to ask regardless of whether she mentioned it that time or not, she had said that her empathy was only one of her abilities and he was pretty curious about it. Of course, there was every possiblity that her other gift was simply her knife throwing skills, which more than met the criteria of something he would call a gift. Then again, from the way she said it he believed that it was something more unique and significant, like her empathy.

Omen nodded slightly when Arabella said she had to show him her power, which probably meant her other ability was something more physical than her empathy or his seeing the dead was. He leaned back against the chair, grabbing the bottle and refilling his glass. His eyes followed Ari as she got up to pull the curtains closed, he had expected her to do that, or she could have led them outside to somewhere more quiet and out of the way. The fact she just used the curtain probably meant it wasn't something too showy. A slightly confused look crossed Omen's face as he saw Ari remove her blades, what was she doing that she needed to take those off? Raisng his glass to his lips he started to take a slow drawn out sip of the vodka rather than downing it at once. The careful way he saw her place the weapons made it clear that her knives were important to her, that much was obvious. He could assume that those particular blades were so precious due to some kind of emotional history with them, like they were given to her by her knife throwing grandmother or something along those lines. The he noticed that she was also taking off her top...

His eyes widened his shock and he coughed roughly, choking on his drink. He turned his head to Ari to face her completely. She was just standing there in front of him, only her bra covering the upper portion of her body. He blinked his eyes repeatedly in confusion and shock. What...is...she doing? He thought to himself. What kind of power involved getting in your underwear? Unless she was going to do something like burst into flames or shapeshift...or grow wings. He finished in his head, seeing the wings unfurl from her back. All of his attention was focused on her, examining her in slight wonder as she twirled around and showed him that the wings were in fact attached to her.

"Wow..." He whispered quietly, admiring her wings and honestly trying to keep focused on the wings and nothing else. There was an bit of an awkward silence at that point. Having the power of flight wasn't something he had expected, then again he couldn't really considered every possibility and was most likely going to be suprised in any case. So she was an expert knife thrower and had the ability to fly, this was not a girl he wanted to piss off and he was most certainly not looking forward to possibly fighting her in the future. "Well I think it's a safe bet to say you're probably one of the most interesting people I've ever met."

The corners of Omen's mouth raised slightly to form a small smile at Ari's teasing, he really felt like an idiot for reacting the way he did. It seemed like she noticed him struggling to keep his focus and had put her shirt back on. It wasn't hard to see that Ari wasn't one for being self conscious about her image, and didn't care about people seeing her half naked. His eyes travelled across Ariabella's blades slowly, admiring the craftsmanship of the weapons. Her connection with those two blades was clear, she had made them herself and it wasn't unusual for people to have an attachment to their weaponry. He took another swig of vodka and looked back to Ari.

"You're talking about your ex, aren't you? My condolences." Omen spoke knowingly. It wasn't even hard to connect the dots, she had talked about him before, saying she learned how to fight from him. His earlier thoughts about him being a military man seemed proven due to her saying when he died they sent back his blade. They, in all likely cases being the Romanian military. Just then he noticed the inscription that marked the sword, 'Side by side or miles apart, you will always own my heart'. A really beautiful thing to put on any present, it just showed how much he must have meant to her. Omen could empathise with her over her loss, he had also lost the person he loved and if the pain she felt was anything like his own he trully felt sorry for her. The first few months after losing her had almost killed him, literally; the grief he felt drove him to try and take his own life. The smile on his face had weakened, even thinking about that had made him feel bad.

Ari's smile had disappeared entirely when Mason had put the pieces together. It wasn't exactly a secret but the mention of the painful memory simply sprinkled more salt into the open and still tender wound. It had been over a year ago and yet still her heart belonged to a man who had long since past the threshold of the living. Ari frowned and then poured the vodka until it was literally at the rim of the glass. This was going to be one of those nights, she could tell. Once filing her own glass up she filled Mason's to a similar level and arched an eyebrow as if challenging him to back out of her silent challenge.

"Don't offer condolences, it does not ease my pain, nor does it make you feel better. I can feel my loss has sparked your own and descending into depression was no on my list of things to do in L.A surprisingly," she lifted her glass up. "To the future is what I say," she nodded and then downed the glass. The liquid burned down her throat but it caused a warm feeing to spread out over her muscles, relaxing them. They needed to get drunk. Real drunk.

"Bar tender, some shots please," she poked her head out of the curtain. The man blinked but nodded and she allowed the curtain to fall between them again. "How good is your English stomach?" she teased.

Omen wordlessly agreed with Ari's sentiment, raising his glass and following her example by downing his own drink in sync with her. The liquid known as vodka was not the smoothest of drinks, but Omen was more than used to it. From what Ari said it was pretty clear she wasn't in the mood for self pity and him bringing up or even thinking about any painful memories was probably not the best of choices. He didn't really know what he was thinking talking about her ex like that, it wasn't the smartest thing he could have done with such a sensitive issue. The idea of focusing on the future seemed appealing right now, especially with all the crap he had gone through. Right now though, he was just going to stick with drinking and enjoying the company.

"Is that a challenge Butterfly?" He smirked, he may not have an ultra high level of endurance, a powerful healing factor or any of that other stuff, but he was certainly no lightweight when it came to drinking. The bartender walked over the booth, opening the curtain only slightly and placed the drinks on the table in front of them before making his leave, closing the gap once again; cutting them off from the rest of the bar. Omen's eyes however never left Ari as the man did this and only broke his stare when he left. "You're on." He said in Romanian, a confident smile on his face, before he downed his first shot.

"Butterfly is my stage name," Ari smirked. "I was a knife thrower," she picked up the shot when it arrived though and placed it to her lips. "It is a challenge," she smiled a cat like smile over her glass and then down the shot in time with him.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar way, ordering more shots and spicing it up as they went along. Firstly it was with lime then salt followed lime and before Ari knew it they were doing Death Shots which erased any grief from her heart for the few following blissful hours. The drinking contest moved on into the night to the early hours of the morning before the bartender ushered them out of the bar insisting he needed to lock up. Ari bade goodnight to the Englishman with a mocking little bow then left for her own apartments.


**End of Topic**