Lafayette makes his way to the front door of Fangtasia! and, finding it locked, bashes himself against it. Nasty Ginger comes creeeeeeping out from a hideyhole behind the bar, looking crazed as usual: "Who the fuck are you?" He babbles -- it's daytime, thank you Jesus -- and goes, "You're human, right?" And if she weren't so fucking horrible and wasted and broken and used up -- as forum poster [b]Prettyeyes[/b] memorably said, "Rode hard and put away drowned" -- her answer would still be true but it wouldn't be as funny: "Kinda."
Not that this is a promise of safety, of course: she's on the side of the demons. He shifts into webcam mode, running his hands up and down himself as though absentmindedly, knowing what to give a girl like this, shifting into Young Black Buck in cadence and vocal tone and grammar, not out of shock but out of his survivor's wisdom: "Look at you. Not only is you sexy, but you can read minds too? That's getting me all riled up in my nether regions..." She puts short work to that, telling him to cut out the flirting: "They told me to pay special attention to the faggot drag queen in the basement." He shifts again, crossing state lines into threatening, strong, violent, angry: "Oh, skank ass bitch, you're going to let me up out of here," he says, stepping closer, and she trains a gun on him: if she does that, she'll die. And he knows it. For a moment they are twins, caught in the same web from opposite directions. She's very funny, but not really. They did this. This is what they made. This is what they helped her make of herself.
"You ain't gonna shoot me, not with them shaky-ass hands. You ain't got the stomach for it," he says, drastically underestimating the truly bugshit nature of Ginger, and she nails him in the leg. He goes down screaming bitch and she stares at the gun, quickly getting herself into the usual Ginger Frenzy. "Holy FUCKER! I'm sorry!" She stares down at him, gibbering and shaking and gingering out all over the place. "AH! OH! I hate guns! EEEEE!" She drops the guns and keeps screaming, at this point in a gerundial fashion, completely unlocked and unchained from any subject of her screaming, screaming because things have gotten to the point where screaming is all there is. He cuts through the fog, shocked out of all his shapes and sounding like Lafayette again: "Hey! Hey! I'm the one who got shot, will you quit screaming and go get me a doctor before I bleed the fuck out?" She gives a token agreement to this plan, but you know she keeps screaming her unholy ass off. "These are all dirty!" she shouts, brandishing bar towels, and because he is awesome, he still manages to roll his eyes as he demands the fucking towel.