Oh, the Irony (Bianca Del Rio/Roy Haylock x OC)

Chapter 2- Don't get it on my shoes, bitch!

Over the course of the night, Clark began to realize that Bianca Del Rio wasn't the horrible, cold hearted villain she liked to see herself as. He found her to be quite the opposite, actually; very charming and intelligent- not just brutal and scathing. Adore was her usual bubbly and bright self, prancing around the clubs like the completely legitimate sea creature she was, drunk on fruity cocktails and high on the atmosphere of the club. Clark didn't really do 'prancing'. He didn't really do anything. He mostly just kept himself to himself and ordered drinks one after the other and mentally comparing them against each other. He much preferred it that way, anyway. New York was a scary place to be, especially when you come from a small town in the middle of nowhere in England. What possessed him to move out here in the first place was beyond him. Good money? Good jobs? Good drag families? None of the above really clicked. "Are you havin' a good time? You look like, kind of pissed off." Adore asked, fixing her wig once again. "I always look pissed off. It's my most defining trait." And he was right- it was. She laughed and put an arm around him, crouching down to her height (just a little, she didn't want to break her back for him or anything). "See anyone you'd like?" She asked with a coy and drunken smile that Clark found incredibly annoying, especially because she already knew his answer. "As if. Every man here is gay and every girl here is straight. As is the curse of gay bars in New York." Adore shrugged at this, not really empathizing with his struggle. "Well it's no problem for me." Clark new about her many sexual exploits and was usually told about them in detail. "I know it isn't, you big ol' whore." He elbowed her in the sides gently. " It's not my fault, " she whined "I was born a whore. It's just how I am." Clark continued to look at her steadily for a few moments before sighing and raising an eyebrow. "I can't believe you're a top."
"Neither can I." Bianca said, swishing around a pretty looking cocktail. Bright pink with orange stuff at the bottom. "I can't help being a pretty top. We can't all be manly, deep voiced gorillas like Bianca." Silence fell across the 3 before they all laughed, everyone knowing how irrefutably true it was. He was impressed by her ability to take a joke, he was always a little too sensitive and so he never made for good roasting material as he just got upset and quiet. "I didn't think you were particularly manly." He pondered aloud, remembering her camp, slightly over the top mannerisms. "That's because you're in the league of dykes with Ellen Degeneres and Big Boo from Orange is the New Black." She answered simply before taking a sip through a straw. "I guess so. I'm more of a Sigourney Weaver type of girl myself." He replied, watching Bianca's face contort into a disgusted and slightly horrified expression. "Ugh, really?"
"God, no."

And that lead on to a discussion about everyone's taste in men (or for him, woman.) As it turned out, Adore was into "You know those guys who work out a lot but are still kinda unhealthy? Like they eat pizza all day and can't be bothered to shave or shower. Them." Whereas Bianca's taste was slightly different. She preferred the "Twinky, little type." But Clark admitted that he "Didn't really have one."
"What? Everyone has a type."
"Not really. I like dark hair and eyes, I guess. It doesn't bother me either way though."
"That's weird." Adore mumbled, frowning slightly. "I'm a woman with taped up tits and drawn on stubble-I am weird." Bianca couldn't help but cringe every time she was reminded that Clark was actually a woman for some reason. "Is it painful?" She asked.
"Is what painful?"
"The taped up boobs."
"God, yeah." She frowned again, remembering that Clark didn't have a flat chest, but breasts instead. "How's the dick tucking?"
Bianca shrugged, refraining from using any of the metaphors she usually said, as for some reason, she didn't feel like they were appropriate. "Pretty bad. Can't imagine it's as bad as pulling tape off your nipple." Adore who was dancing with various men a few metres away shouted. "What was that about nipples?" But she was ignored as neither Clark or Bianca bothered to listen, having a conversation of their own. He was pleased to have made a friend, much more so one who always came across as so intimidating but was actually lovely once you got to know her. The hours progressed way into the night and Adore got more and more drunk to the point of her falling over. "Bi-.. Roy..? I-i don't..." She muttered, stumbling over to the table on her precariously high heels. Bianca raised an eyebrow and looked at her warily. That look of hers was all too familiar. "I don't... Feeeeeeel good. Like, like, not good." At this, Bianca expertly grabbed ahold of her arm and led her out of the club and into the streets in record time. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Adore began to vomit profusely, retching noises leaving her mouth. Bianca, while disgusted, felt obligated to rub her back soothingly and hold back her wig. "Don't get it on my shoes, bitch!" She exclaimed, taking a step back. Mumbled apologies were said in between spews of vomit. Clark watched on apprehensively, not wanting to take a step into the splash zone. "She'll be fine soon." Bianca said, watching his face. "She always does this. She'll be wanting to go home as well, even though she's got a flight in a few hours."
"Poor bitch." He replied. Bianca laughed so he thought this was a good thing to say. Thank God. She never knew what to say at times like these. "Its getting light now, anyway." He added, looking up at the sky. Bianca huffed and patted her friend on the shoulder. "Home time." She said gently. "Y-yeah."
"It wasn't a question."
"...Oh."

Clark was left on his own from the minute Bianca called a cab and bundled her friend unceremoniously into the back. "So sorry. Nice meeting you though!" She said with a smile. "It's fine." He replied although it wasn't. He'd much prefer if Adore didn't get pissed and so she, Bianca and him could carry on the night. He didn't like to admit it but he got incredibly lonely being in New York with almost no friends. The sheer size of the place just amplified how he felt. Deciding there was no point in him staying around, he called a cab for himself and began the journey to his flat.
/////

He lived in a rough part of new York, he supposed. It was Brooklyn, not like that really meant anything to him. Brooklyn itself was a nice place but the particular area he was in wasn't the most pleasant part of the city. There was a lot of crime, he saw it happen in front of him. Muggings, theft, even arson sometimes. A murder had happened the other day just around the corners from where he was. That terrified him but he never told anyone. Not like he had anyone to tell it to anyway. Besides, he didn't want to let anyone know he was scared. New yorkers smell fear. Jamming the key into the lock and turning the handle with a slight sense of panic, trying to avoid the shouting downstairs, be managed to get into his apartment. Locking the door behind him, he let out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding and all but collapsed onto the floor. Upon hitting the floor, he pulled his wig off of his head and began to de-dragify, as he called it. Contouring and stubble washed away Clark was no longer around and instead replaced with the girl under all of that. She was a pretty girl, so she had been told. She must have been if she was able to get a modelling contract. Whatever. It was never to her taste. She had to positively scrub at her stomach to get all of the contouring off and peeling the binding tape wasn't any better. She cringed before she even started and let out a small whimper when it had finished. That never got any easier.
 Eventually, she was completely back to normal- back to Alex. Her pale skin and pointed nose became more obvious, as did the brightness of her hazel eyes, slightly irritated from the use of blue contacts for so long. She brushed her hair and sighed, too tired to think properly. With a slight reluctance in her step, she brushed her teeth and went to bed, ignoring the downstairs argument and the sound of birds beginning to wake up. She wondered how Bianca and Adore were.