Chapter Seven (or never rub another man's rhubarb)

November 22, 2003 (or the first date)

The Cheater

The unexpected began at 11:37pm.

After dinner and coffee, Tyrion invited his date back to his apartment for dessert. He didn't invite her for that dessert. He truly expected to pick up some ice cream from the grocery store down the street from his building, enjoy it quietly with her at his apartment, and then take her back home.

That didn't happen.

Tyrion couldn't help himself. They returned to his apartment like he planned. Thankfully, he did in fact have an ice cream scooper, two clean bowls, and two clean spoons. It would have been a shame if they had to claw the ice cream out of the box with their hands. They sat quietly at his kitchen table and chatted. They talked about Sansa's job search, about her new apartment, about her recent family difficulties. Tyrion wasn't surprised by any of it because he knew it was coming.

This feels too easy. I'm not supposed to know that her sister recently moved out or that Sansa can't find a job teaching music. It feels like I'm cheating. Probably because I am.

He had spent eighty dollars on the dinner, five on the carton of ice cream, and twelve hundred in preparation fees to his 'friend.' They had paid off, he knew what to say, what not to say, even the exact clothes to wear. He had cheated, but he was okay with it. Cheating was only bad if you got caught or if you didn't win. And based on the look in her eyes, he was winning.

Since they had sat down together for dinner and Tyrion told his first joke, she had not stopped smiling. Her eyes, her giggle, he had grown addicted to her. Her eyes were two beautiful blue serene ponds, shimmering at him and coolly cascading over him. Her red fair framed her perfect face. Her cute little nose went with her cute little mouth and her luscious pink lips. When she giggled her nose wrinkled and her smile widened. Her laugh was sweet with a silky lilt to it. And when she finished laughing at his jokes she would look at him with those eyes. Those deep blue eyes. He couldn't get enough of that look.

Tyrion was now addicted to two things. Alprazolam and that look.

In a bizarre way, Tyrion was pleased that the first thing he noticed about her was that look. At dinner he paid all of his attention to her face, to the look that intoxicated him, and to the reactions she gave. But now, as they merrily chatted at his kitchen table and she sat closer to him, he saw what he missed during dinner. That little black dress Tyrion knew she was going to wear was jaw-dropping. It clung to her curves perfectly. Showing plenty but leaving some to Tyrion's imagination.

My imagination. A place that Sansa dare not enter.

"Do you prefer vanilla or chocolate?" Tyrion stammered, having difficultly keeping his eyes on her amazing gaze and not her dress that continued to hike up her leg. She was fidgeting with her legs, crossing and uncrossing them, over and over again. Tyrion thought she was fucking with him, taunting him to take a peek, but that didn't seem like the girl he just had dinner with.

Or maybe it is. Maybe I should just grab her and...no...behave...

"Vanilla is my fav," Sansa said with a smirk, and half a wine-induced slur. Tyrion had learned a lot about Sansa that night. One important thing was she was a total lush - two glasses of wine with dinner still greatly impaired her. She popped the spoon out of her mouth and daintily swiped a white droplet from her lips with a napkin.

Okay, maybe she is fucking with me...okay...stay focused.

"Growing up everyone in my house preferred chocolate. I only got vanilla when I was out with friends or bought my own."

"That's a shame," Sansa said and put her spoon down. His eyes lingers on her legs for just a moment until they were caught in her gaze. A gaze powerful enough to pull him back to her eyes. Silence filled the apartment as they just stared for a moment. He didn't know what she could see in scared, mismatched face, but she seemed content.

Tyrion looked at the clock on the wall and it turned to eleven-thirty seven.

What happened next was unexpected.

Without a thought his hand crept across the table to hers. His thumb rubbed little circles on her fingers and he basked in her warm skin. Only after he started did he realize what he was doing and he excepted her to recoil.

She didn't.

He looked up to her and he found her sitting with her eyes closed. Each breath she took seemed to send a shudder down her body. He looked down the table and saw her hand began to tremble. Like twig in a stiff breeze is it shook against his flesh until her arm snapped to her body.

"I'm sorry..." Tyrion began to mumble as he cursed himself for being so stupid.

And then she kissed him.

Her body lunged at him until their lips met. Shock was replaced by pleasure as he ran his fingers up her arms. When he heard her utter a soft moan he moved his hand to the back of her head and ran his hand through her silken hair.

It was 11:37pm and they had their first kiss.

October 31, 2003 (or that Halloween)

The Imp

Whiskey Dick's was a tavern The Imp enjoyed and a condition he feared of getting again. It had happened once to The Imp when he was in college, in his prime. It was dollar fifty shot night, and after his ninth, he had some trouble compelling his solider to rise to the occasion and march into that moist battle. The bar was a large place, that technically was a pub that served food during the day, with tables and booths across from the bar. Further in the back was a small stage where bands performed and a dance floor. It was the perfect place to find the twenty-two year old he desired and the nine shots he would probably take. Hopefully tonight he could enjoy Whiskey Dick's without getting Whiskey Dick.

Maybe not nine shots tonight. Maybe only eight.

Outside the large gray building was a line of eight or ten people smoking. Some people were dressed in Halloween costumes, and some in regular clothes, but the one who caught The Imp's attention was one particular metal head.

Which is saying something because he's smoking next to someone dressed as Count Chocula.

He stood at least six foot eight and wore all black, the only color apparent were the words "THE HOUNDS" written in crimson across his shirt. His long greasy hair draped in front of his face. His face. His face had the most attention grabbing thing. At first The Imp thought it was a deformity, or maybe he was a burn victim. No, on the right side of his face was a large black scorpion. The tattoo covered most of the side of his face, with its tail wrapping around his ear and a green poisonous tip ending at his lip. The Imp had been moving at a brisk pace in front of Jamie but slowed as he gawked at this mountain of a man. When the scorpion faced behemoth noticed him, the Imp looked away, not wanting to avoid being stepped on by a giant, and went inside the bar.

"Two shots of whiskey," Tyrion told Marilyn Monroe. He had stormed into the dimly light bar, pushing past the drunken group of Ghostbusters until he reached the bar where he found a buxom Marilyn Monroe waiting to serve him a drink. The girl in front of him was great replica of the long dead bombshell. She had the necessary natural attributes needed - a voluptuous body, pink luscious lips, and The Imp could tell the proper mind set.

The wig is totally a fake But, so it goes.

"Any kind you'd like in particular?"

"Nope," The Imp told her. "Surprise me."

"Two shots of whiskey, coming right up," she told him with a wink. Tyrion couldn't help but watch in wonder as her nimble fingers poured the smoky brown nectar.

"Tyrion, I told you I'm not fucking going to do a shot," Jamie groaned when he joined his brother at the bar.

"I know," Tyrion said, taking the two shots Ms. Monroe placed down and tossed them back in succession.

"Jesus," his brother said as he watched The Imp pour back the drinks. "Slow down."

"Speed up," Tyrion answered him, placed a twenty on the bar for Ms. Monroe, and walked away from the bar. As the liquor burned down his throat he fully took in the glory that was a bar on Halloween. It was a ruckus that night and the music was deafening. A majority of the patrons, many of them college students, were dressed up in costume. There was a Tarzan that just came in from the cold October night with rigid, pink, angry exposed flesh. His Jane looked equally cold, but her pink flesh was pleasant to look at. A trio of drunk frat boys in gray jumpsuits came tonight as the Ghostbusters. Thankfully, Batman was there, standing off to the side, overlooking the chaos.

"Is the bouncer dresser up as Batman?" The Imp asked his brother.

"I don't know," Jamie sharply told his brother, with a fresh gin and tonic in his hand.

"I thought you said you weren't drinking."

"I said I wasn't going to do a shot," he corrected his brother and took a sip of his drink. "But I'll need to drink to get through the night. Let's go sit down," Jamie said and gestured towards a table that sat across from the bar.

"I don't want to," The Imp whined as he began to eye 'Jane'. She didn't seem to attached to her Tarzan, who looked vapid and unobservant. He could probably sneak the brown haired wild girl off to the bathroom for seven to ten minutes without her ape-man noticing. He was very familiar with girls in that bathroom. Or maybe he could get one of the slutty mermaids Tyrion just noticed near the dance floor. The tart with a jet black hair clearly didn't know that her clam bikini had slipped off kilter leaving her left tit exposed. Or she didn't care about her exposed breast. Either way, The Imp was intrigued.

"No," Jamie told The Imp.

"No? No what?"

"You already made one mistake, which you learned about today. Don't make another."

"Spoil sport," The Imp snorted. "You worry too much."

"I have to. You don't worry at all."

"You don't have to worry. Whatever girl here is lucky enough to get my present tonight will definitely get it gift wrapped."

"Wonderful visual," Jamie growled. "Let's go sit down."

"No, I have things to do" The Imp insisted.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Tyrion, let's just go sit down and enjoy our drinks."

"I don't have a drink," The Imp informed his brother.

"If I got get you something, would you sit down?" Jamie asked.

"Fine," The Imp agreed, knowing he needed a minute away from Jamie anyways. The Imp scurried to a table and took out the small zip lock bag. It was only seven-thirty and he wasn't sure if he wanted to begin a trip this early. Although he had talked Jamie into coming, his older brother was a wet blanket and would smother all of The Imp's fun. At some point The Imp would have to send him away or give him the slip. Either way, The Imp's journey wouldn't begin yet, so he placed the baggie back into his pocket before Jamie arrived with drinks.

"Thank you," The Imp said as he greedily took the drink.

Jamie sat across from him at the table and inspected him. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"Going to get drunk tonight," The Imp dryly answered.

Get drunk...among other things.

"What are you going to do tomorrow then?" Jamie asked.

"...I have no idea."

"Well, do you want to be with this woman?"

"No."

"Do you want to help her raise this child?"

The Imp remained silent. He hadn't thought about it. The scope of that decision boggled his mind.

"What are you going to do?" Jamie asked again.

"I. Don't. Know."

"Well, you should..." Jamie began.

"Just shut up," The Imp begged. "I can't take that right now. I'm fucked. I know it. I can deal with it tomorrow. I don't have any answers for you tonight."

"Fine," Jamie said with a groan and took a sip of his drink. "Did I tell you what happened at work today? Dad gave me a new class action."

"Who are we suing this time?"

"Blackwater."

"Blackwater Construction? Oh, well, you're fucked. I would want to touch that with a five foot pole."

"That was my response. But you know Dad..." Jamie began to ramble about the case. The Imp tried to listen but his attention was drawn by something else.

Behind Jamie activity swirled. The scorpion-tattooed giant had entered the bar and was pursued by a short blonde girl. She was dressed in a brilliant yellow jumpsuit with black stripes running down her arms. It looked familiar but The Imp couldn't place. She pushed past three drunken frat boys dressed as Ghostbusters, the biggest and drunkest of them tweaking her ass as she passed. He was a good two feet taller than she was, so his pace and ability to push people out his way gave him a lead as she moved through the crowd.

"Ass-Fuck!" she screamed at him and drew the attention of everyone at the bar.

He whipped around to her and appeared to shake his head and laugh. The roar of the bar reached a high point and The Imp couldn't hear what they were saying. The blonde stood her ground, liked a David slinging verbal stones at Goliath. After a minute the giant appeared to grow weary of this and attempted to leave, but 'David' latched onto his arm. Furious at being touched, he spun back around and stuck is face right in front of hers. It looked like it could come to a head until out of the crowd a dark haired man appeared. He was tall and strong, but was dwarfed by the giant. The man put himself between the quarrel, angering the blonde, and amusing the giant.

"Are you listening to me at all?" Jamie asked.

"You were talking?"

"Yes, about the Blackwater case. It's huge. Over five hundred people claiming injury because of this fucking company."

"Uh-huh," Tyrion moaned as he searched the crowd looking for the blonde or the giant. The giant had vanished and blonde was beginning to strut towards The Imp.

"You still aren't listening are you?"

"Fuck no," The Imp grunted. "There's a hot blonde coming over here," The Imp informed Jamie and he straightened up his posture.

"These seats taken?" My friend will be over in a minute with some drinks," the short girl asked in a smooth voice.

"Not at all," The Imp answered.

"And who are you?" Jamie asked.

"Oh, my name is Beth," she said and smirked proudly at Tyrion.

Beth. Beth...I don't know any blondes named Beth.

The two shots began to seep into his already intoxicated body. The pills had thoroughly coated him all day and now the whiskey slowed him further. She had a familiar face but something was different. Her eyes were blue and that didn't seem right to The Imp for whatever reason. Her blonde hair also looked...wrong...but he still didn't know what it was. He could feel his mouth twist in thought and he heard the girl giggled lightly at him until it finally clicked into place.

"What?" Jamie asked as The Imp clapped his hands at the serendipity of the moment.

This waitress? I loved this waitress! She told Tywin to shove it up his ass!

"Do you remember that story about the waitress that told dad off? Here she is," he said with one more laugh.

"Oh her," he said and gave her a weak smile, clearly not trusting The Imp with any person who had a vagina. "It's nice to meet you, Beth. My name is..."

"Jamie Lannister," she finished his sentence and the men raised both of his eyebrows. "Oh, I've heard you roar," she explained, opening her jaw afterward to mimic the infamous Lannister commercial.

"Urgh," he said, taking another, larger, sip from his drink. "That fucking commercial," Jamie growled, wiping his mouth after he finished.

I wasn't allowed to be in it and it bothered me. Jamie was in that monstrosity and it haunts him. You just can't win in this family sometimes.

"Ohh, you have a friend here as well?" Tyrion excitedly asked.

Maybe I can find someone Jamie will actually fuck.

"They should be here soon. I said to come over here with our drinks because I noticed two interesting men to talk to," Beth told them as she sat next to Tyrion.

"And what brings you out tonight?" The Imp asked.

"Ohh, I had one of those days. Supposed to be great, ended up screaming at my mom over the phone," Beth sighed.

"A lot of bad phone calls today it seems," Jamie groaned.

"So, Beth," Tyrion said as he leaned close so he could hear, "besides having opinions on the first amendment and waiting tables, what do you do?"

Beth's eyes snapped around the bar looking for something or someone. After a second she focused on the same dark-haired man from before. He wore an unbuttoned black shirt and a t-shirt with The Kool-Aid Man emblazoned on the front. He walked to the table with a curious, slightly intimidating gaze. His eyes focused on The Imp who realized he had rubbed another man's rhubarb and made some distance between himself and Beth. He still look perturbed, but his focus left The Imp as he sat down next to Jamie and placed a drink in front of Beth.

"Hi there," he said to the table, as Jamie turned to face him with a puzzled face.

"Hello," Jamie said with a nod. "Is this your friend?" he asked Beth.

"Yeah! He's my boyfriend..." she yelled and then abruptly paused before saying this name. "Dick!"

"Dick?" the man sputtered in disbelief.

"And what is Dick's last name?" Tyrion asked with a chuckle.

"Bull!" she yelled out to the bewildered table of men. After the word 'Bull' popped out of her mouth she seemed equally surprised by it.

"Dick Bull?" 'Dick Bull' repeated.

"Yeah, Dick!" she yelled, "don't you know your own name?"

"I guess not!" he yelled back to her over the ruckus of the bar. He gave him a huge nod and stern look, clearly ordered him to just 'go with it.' With a shrug he said, "Hi! My name is totally Dick Bull!" he said, holding his hand out. They all shook hands while laughing.

"Hey! Don't ruin it!" Beth yelled at the laughing boys. "And don't you have something to say?"

"I don't even know my name! So, no, I don't know what it is I should say!"

"C'mon, Dick! Isn't this guy a little too close for comfort?" Beth asked with a strong slur and a gust wafted from her mouth and smacked The Imp in the face.

This girl knows how to drink on a budget. She pre-gamed with at least two rum and cokes before she got here.

"Is he?" Dick answered her flatly and shot The Imp another look. His blue eyes and nose flared in rage. He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. The Imp got the message.

Don't fucking touch my girlfriend.

"Yes! Don't you have to protect my honor?!" Beth asked in exasperation, in her drunk state not noticing the look in the eyes of her intimidating boyfriend.

"Your honor?" Dick sputtered with a chuckle. "When I walked in, I clearly heard you yell the word 'Ass-Fuck!' Did you want me fucking challenge Sandy to a duel or something?"

Beth snorted in annoyance and took a large swig of her drink. Noticing her frustration he asked, "did you want me to beat this guy up or something?"

"No! I just wanted you to freak him out a bit," she sighed, "you didn't go along with the plan."

Dick gave a quick look to Jamie, who shrugged his shoulders. "What plan?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked.

"No!" he yelled back as the song ended and noise began to fade so they could talk at a normal volume. "If it was obvious we wouldn't be having this conversation. But if you don't mind me asking, what was the plan?"

"Well, you were supposed to come over here and freak out this little guy here!"

"Hey!" The Imp exclaimed.

"Don't be offended. It's the truth. Anyways, you were supposed to come over here and be jealous that he was all over me!"

"I was not!" The Imp defended himself and scooted his chair further away from Beth to prove his point. Not wasn't it true (it would have been but The Imp didn't get the chance) he did not want the large man to eat him. Jamie began to shake his head at the ridiculousness circling him.

"Again, don't be offended by the truth," she repeated.

Dick stared incredulously for a moment and asked, "so, the plan that we didn't discuss but was implied was that I should have come over here and freak this guy out because you came over and sort of hit on him?"

"Exactly! Is that so hard to understand?" Beth asked and looked to The Imp for confirmation that she was right.

"I think the better question is why are you having this conversation in front of complete strangers?" Jamie sniggered.

"Oh, don't be rude Jamie," The Imp stammered. "Beth and I here are old friends. Anyone who tells our father to shove it up his ass is a person of astounding character. And this lad here looks like an upstanding fellow."

An upstanding fellow who would never hit me because I kinda-sorta hit on his girlfriend.

Dick's glower began to disappear and The Imp relaxed a bit. "I doubt it," Dick replied with a shrug. "My name is Dick Bull, so chances are I'm a gay porn star or something." They all laughed and began to make small talk. Jamie began to drone about that case as The Imp went about doing a magic trick.

I will make this gin and tonic disappear.

Beth did the same illusion and annihilated her first drink.

It's a shame this girl's not single. We might be drunken soul mates.

"You never did answer me!" The Imp yelled to Beth, who sat right next to him, but the volume of Whiskey Dick's made conversation difficult even to those that sat next to each other. Jamie and Dick spoke to each other as did The Imp and Beth.

"Huh?" she yelled, not hearing what he said.

"Besides waiting tables and trying to trick your boyfriend into beating up strangers, what do you do?"

"Oh, I am a senior at UWM, political science!"

"That's what my major was! Wanna be a lawyer?" he asked.

"If it wouldn't cost me around hundred thousand dollars to get a law degree, that'd be great," she wistfully, drunkenly laughed.

"That's a shame, it suits you, except for the fact that most of the people you work with people who are stuffy and no fun," he said and glanced at Jamie. "My advice would be to be born into a family of lawyers who would pay for your schooling and then tirelessly work to achieve their respect."

Beth couldn't help but laugh at the man. "What?" he asked.

"You became a lawyer to make your father happy?" she said, snorting as she spoke.

"There were many reasons...but yes I did become a lawyer to make my father happy."

She continued to laugh. "Well that's a shame. I only saw you and your father for about twenty minutes, but I'm pretty sure your father hates you."

"I like to think he hates me so much that he works his way back to loving me," The Imp retorted, trying to hold a straight face. As their eyes met they both broke out laughing, enjoying the drunken state of each other, which drew the attention of their companions.

"What?" Jamie asked as the music died down for a moment.

"Oh nothing, just discussing how father despises me," The Imp chortled and Jamie rolled his eyes.

Dick got up from the table. "I am going to go use the bathroom quick," he said, but then looked around the bustling tavern and noticed a line twenty deep outside the men's bathroom. "Well, as quick as possible," he said with a shrug.

"Dick," Beth said and couldn't help but chuckle at his name, "would you get me another drink?"

"Now Ary - are you sure that's the right thing...Beth?"

"Please! It's my second favorite holiday! And you you know I had a bad day!" she said and batted her eyelashes at him.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll get you one more after I get back." He gave a quick glance to The Imp, clearly not trusting him, before he left.

"I think I'll join you." Jamie said as he stood up, then they both made their way towards the bathroom.

The Imp and Beth the Bride sat for a moment in silence.

They were both drunk and giggling. But The Imp knew the truth.

We are both miserable.

November 22, 2003 (or the first date)

The Cheater

Sleep eluded Tyrion and he wasn't sure why. There were two possible answers and they were probably both right.

Detoxing was the first reason. He had began to taper his 'medication' intake since Halloween and he had felt the effects. Each night had been harder than the last to fall asleep as Tyrion took less of his 'medication.'

The second reason was guilt. Guilt for what Tyrion did. He hadn't tricked her, he hadn't lied to her...

Except for that one lie.

….But it was dirty all the same. He regretted what he had done to got her into bed. That wasn't his goal, but it happened all the same. He just wanted to make a good impression, and he based on what happened he succeeded.

Never before had he been so uncomfortable laying next to a beautiful sleeping woman. He lied worse to women before. He had worse things to women before. But, Sansa was different. Tyrion wanted it to be different. But, of course, it wasn't that easy. At least she had no idea what he had done to learn so much about her...

...or that other little secret I share with another woman.

Unable to find sleep he left the girl in his bed and adjourned to the living room. This wasn't the first time The Imp had a problem falling asleep lately. He was re-reading his favorite book series and he was near the end of the first book.

The world quaked as the fire died out. Sapsady rose from the smoldering embers and saw the world anew. From her womb sprung three furry children that scampered by her feet. The first, black and white, slithered up to her breast and clamped onto her teat. "Ah!" she shrieked as she swatted the beast in the face and it plummeted back to the ground. With his dark emerald eyes the ferret cursed her. He would be fed when she deemed it right.

A smaller one, olive green and umber, crawled up her back and she winced in pain as his tiny claws pierced her flesh. He perched on her shoulder and began to ogle her other breast.

"No," Sapsady sternly told him with a mighty out stretched finger.

"Rah," the little beast squealed in protest, but obeyed its mother.

The third, shit brown and flowering red, waddled in circles on the ground. Sapsady bent down and removed the afterbirth that covered her child's face. Once her darling son was able to see he scurried up her arm to the other shoulder.

Her followers looked on in wonder. The Bison Lords fell to their knees and began to chant "Maefuroa! Maefuroa!" Women wept, children cheered. The heaviest gaze came from Jonat as his eyes wandered from ground up her naked body. As her children scurried on her body she could see his ferret thicken in his breeches. His ferret, much like hers, would have to learn to obey their mother. She had a realm and dynasty to reclaim. A birthright that was her's to take. It would be hers and she would take it with, blood, fire, and ferrets.

She was Sapsady Lunar, twenty-ninth of her name, heifer-bride of Bison Lord Plodder Sunggyrois, Guardian of the Great Oak Ocean.

And now she was the Mother of Ferrets.

Tyrion placed Fire-Blood and Ferrets by the other works by Reginald G.G. Watson on his book shelf. Tomorrow he would continue the saga of A Ballad of Hot and Cold Things with A Typhoon of Tridents.

"Tyrion?" Sansa asked. She had appeared from the bedroom, wrapped in the comforter from his bed, clearly not yet comfortable for him to see her naked outside of his dimly lit room.

"Ohh, did I wake you?" he asked.

"No...well, yeah, kinda. What's wrong?" she replied.

"I couldn't sleep," he honestly answered with a shrug.

"Ohh," she sighed with a flushed look. "Is it me? Arya told me I talk in my sleep. I can go if you want me to."

"Oh no! No, no, no. It's just me. I have some insomnia sometimes. It isn't you."

It's the drugs I'm trying to ween off of.

"Let's go back to bed," Tyrion told her with a grin. He turned out the light and they went back to bed. Sansa laid on her side and Tyrion joined her, his arms wrapped around her, his face nuzzling her silken hair.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," Tyrion whispered to her.

"...Me too," she murmured in the darkness.

He felt her breathing slow as she laid in his arms and drifted to sleep. He enjoyed the feel of her body in his arms. It didn't matter how she got here. She was in his arms and that's all that mattered.

Keep on telling yourself that.

October 31, 2003 (or that Halloween)

The Imp

"And why was you day so bad, Beth?" The Imp asked. She had mentioned problems with her mother, and although The Imp killed his mother at birth, he certainly had enough daddy issues to understand.

There was a pause as Beth thought of her answer, clearly not eager to discuss this topic. "I got into a screaming fight with my mother over the phone after not speaking to her for a few months because I moved in with Dick."

"That's a shame," he answered.

"I think she hates me," Beth said, then continued as whatever filters she had were currently numbed by alcohol. "I can't blame her because I hate myself too. I am currently being crushed by my personal life and my loving boyfriend is forced to take care because he has to, not because he wants to."

The Imp said nothing. His brain was slowed by all he had taken so far, but he felt for her. Hating yourself and a parent was his area of expertise.

"And you know the worst part?" she asked with sad laugh. "I think I hate Dick a little too because I picked him over my family. And if I had to do it again I'd do it the exact same way. I would never speak to my family again to be with him."

"You love him so much you made your way to hate," The Imp said dryly.

"I guess. I'm not sure if I am ever going to be able to talk to my mother again without screaming at her," she sigh, reaching for empty drink, and groaned when she remembered Dick hadn't returned yet with her refill.

Poor girl. She deserves a break. And I do have stuff to share.

The Imp looked at her for a moment and then reached into his pocket. He looked around quickly to make sure no one around was watching and quickly asked Beth, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you think my name is Beth and I see just as much misery in your eyes as I know must be in mine," she answered, looking into this eyes. He pulled a round pill holder that held some of what Bronn brought him.

"What do you have there?" she asked.

"Some stuff that I use when I am having a bad day like yours. Which I also had today," he said, reaching for the pills and taking out four, giving two to Beth and keeping two for himself. Beth moved to pop the pills into her mouth but The Imp stopped her.

"Is Dick gonna be with you the rest of the night? And he'll be sober?" Beth nodded. "You really want to get fucked up?" The Imp asked.

"Yes," Beth answered without thinking. The Imp again peered around the bar, which was still in a frenzy of activity. The Ghostbusters talked with a man who looked like Count Chocula and Batman was currently hitting on Rosie the Riveter. No one was paying attention to the blonde and the impish man. He reached into his other pocket and took out a small baggie containing four sugar cubes.

"Is that fucking acid? You fucking want me drop acid?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I am going to too. With these, it is fucking mellow," he said gesturing to the pills in his hands.

She paused for a moment again, but clearly had the same thought that The Imp had so many times before.

Fuck it.

She held her hand out and he placed a sugar cube in it, then popped his pills into this mouth. "Don't worry about it and swallow," he directed her. She looked down into her hand and placed the pills into her mouth and gulped. "Put the cube on your tongue and let it melt," he said as he did the same himself. It began to dissolve in his mouth, and he knew his trip would begin soon.

She followed the instructions and placed the cube in her mouth. The Imp raised his empty glass towards Beth and proposed a toast. "To our parents," he said with a small, sad, grin. Beth nodded and clinked her empty glass against his.

AN:

The phrase 'never rub another man's rhubarb' is from the film Batman (1989) - said by Jack Nicholson - the third best Joker behind Heath Ledger and Mark Hamill.

For "Misfits" fans - I changed some of the dialogue here. When I went back and re-read the corresponding chapter in Misfits I didn't like what I wrote. I will probably go back and make the conversations match up later.

If you like A Ballad of Hot and Cold Things let me know. I love writing it. GRRM is a great writer, but his style and stories are so fun to parody.

My beta is feeling better - Huzzah!

Next Time - We learn how Tyrion got his scar, The Imp makes his escape, and Arya arrives at Sansa's party...a little bit different.