“C’mon, let’s get you up, there, partner,” she reaches down, gingerly wraps a hand around a white, white wrist, sees his face. He’s beautiful, even amid the bloody nose, the busted, painted lips, the smudged eyeliner that looks as though it’s not been washed off for days, it takes her aback, Tulip blinking dopeishly, “We got matching looks,” she dumbly states, what a stupid thing to say, too, friggin’ weirdo. 

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“You must be the INFAMOUS Cassidy,” they note, immediately recognizing the vampire when he enters. “Tulip has told me a LOT about you.” Sherlock takes a deep drink from their glass, leaning back as they look him over. “Fancy a drink?” they offer.

                   “   well,       this has disaster written   ALL   OVER   IT,         cass.   “

Puckering her lips faintly, Tulip tips her chair back onto its hind legs, surveys the lunchroom like she goddamn owns it, which she knows ain’t true, the lunchroom belongs to Donnie, Clive, and Betsy, but she’s not afraid of them. Amid the roar of laughter, yelling, and clattering, Tulip catches wind of a weird voice, glances over to the right at one of the empty tables they surround themselves with to a lanky, pale-ass motherfucker, sitting all on his lonesome. “New kid,” she mutters, moreso to herself, since Jesse’s gone in la-la land, “Hey,” she waves, frowns, “NICK CAVE,” another, impatient wave, “PALE KID, YOU, YEAH, YOU,” Tulip gestures for him to come over, slinging a grin onto her lips, “C’mon and sit with us, no need making yourself a target to all these dipshits,” she gestures to the rest of the room, popping her seat down onto its legs so she can kick the seat adjacent to her from the table. Giving a hefty elbow to Jesse’s side, she quirks her brow, “You gotta eat, babe. Gotta meet our new buddy too.” 

And so she’s in his doorway, flipping the light on, and giving a subtle, sharp inhalation, body rigid as she takes him in in all his drugged up, no-fucks-left glory. He looks worse than she’s ever seen him, almost as bad as he’d looked after burning for Jesse. “What happened, Cass?” she utters softly, shoulders slumping. Drugs are everywhere, every kind’a drug she can think of, and she has a bad feeling all the cash she’s been storing from her nights at the hurt locker is long gone. Puke’s flaked around his mouth, stained his clothes, his bed, body odor and piss loom into her nostrils, remind her of the nights sat beside her mother’s unresponsive body, holding her hand and willing her to throw up off the bed and not choke. The bitter memories bring a faint flame to her gaze, but there’s sympathy there, albeit tough sympathy. Tulip bucks up and heads to the kitchen, grabs a trash bag and immediately sets to cleaning up his mess of opiates, depressants, everything. “There’s no need for this, Cassidy. You goddamn STUPID? You think this shit is gonna fix ANYTHING?” 

“—hate this part. Why the hell would anyone wanna friggin’ welcome a goddamn UF-FUCKIN’-O, huh? I get bein’ welcoming and shit to aliens, but they’d better be parkin’ that shit far away from me ‘fore I speak to ‘em. . .” Tulip’s a vehement movie watcher, she needs something to focus on that isn’t Cassidy’s current withdrawals. She’s there for him, doin’ things to keep his mind off’a the drugs he wants so bad, craves like air, but if she’s not doin’ anything but watching his every move, he’s gonna leave, or she’s gonna go crazy. Enter independance day. “Y’hear me?” Tulip trails off as she notes Cassidy’s moved himself onto his side upon the two cushions beside her, a little tiny ball. He kicks around a lot when they sit still to do somethin’, so she’s learned to tune it out, but she’s mad she didn’t notice this sooner. “snoozin’, huh,” Tulip softly clucks, pauses when he stirs. She watches in silence as the currently drug-less vampire butts the top of his head against her thigh, grumbling in his sleep before he’s slipping his face up upon her lap completely, kicking his long legs off the end of the couch. Ordinarily, Tulip would ineloquently shove him off the couch, but, just this once, she supposes he gets a pass. And it ain’t her fault that she’s lightly fluffing the tips of his wild hair with her fingers while she continues watching her movie, it’s just his fault for bein’ kinda cute sometimes.