Oh my lord, she is drunk. The mere smell of alcohol wafting from her makes it obvious, even before she spoke. “You actually drove like this, and lived?” You nudge her boot with your ragged high top. The backpack sounded heavy…and bottle-y. “Did you bring a pack full of booze?” You almost laugh, but you bite it back. You eye the bag, torn between wanting it out of the house and tearing into it. You hadn’t had even so much as a sip of hard liquor since you came back. And by god, you miss it.
Your brow raised right up and you managed quiet tittering before leaning over the table, nudging that foot back. “Fuck you, you lack belief in my amazing ability. Plus, it’s not like I’m actually drunk.” You regard yourself fondly as you open your pack, pulling out rums and lighter drinks. No need to try and get over board right off the bat right? You show him each of the bottles and look all sorts of smuggish, eyes refusing to reflect a single ounce of that egotistical emotion. “I did, lots. I figured you might want some. Plus I hate solo drinking all the damn time.”
You reach out, hesitant, and grasp one of the rum bottles. A little social drinking couldn’t hurt. “Well, you’re in good company now.” You crack it open and take a tentative drink. Oh lord, the pleasant burn, familiar and welcomed. You wish you had a bottle of Jack. Another drink, then another. Being sober, you were too aware of everything, things you wish you’d never noticed. The rum helps make it all fade away.
You watch him go at it for a moment, then you tackle a bottle yourself, only you pause before you swig and lift the bottle up. “To those we’ve loved, and lost.” It almost came out a sarcastic, bitter hiss, but you were able to control that by smothering it with a slurr. You took two gulps and slammed a hand on the table. “This is great, fuck. It really is.”
8 notes - reblogOh my lord, she is drunk. The mere smell of alcohol wafting from her makes it obvious, even before she spoke. “You actually drove like this, and lived?” You nudge her boot with your ragged high top. The backpack sounded heavy…and bottle-y. “Did you bring a pack full of booze?” You almost laugh, but you bite it back. You eye the bag, torn between wanting it out of the house and tearing into it. You hadn’t had even so much as a sip of hard liquor since you came back. And by god, you miss it.
Your brow raised right up and you managed quiet tittering before leaning over the table, nudging that foot back. “Fuck you, you lack belief in my amazing ability. Plus, it’s not like I’m actually drunk.” You regard yourself fondly as you open your pack, pulling out rums and lighter drinks. No need to try and get over board right off the bat right? You show him each of the bottles and look all sorts of smuggish, eyes refusing to reflect a single ounce of that egotistical emotion. “I did, lots. I figured you might want some. Plus I hate solo drinking all the damn time.”
8 notes - rebloginnsmoutheridan asked: ...wwhat did you drink strider
starts with a b and ends with an ooze.
or it starts with a b and ends with a acardi.
0 notes - reblogveryadorabull asked: mOO,
piggy pie
0 notes - rebloginnsmoutheridan asked: owwwwww wwhy
>Points at booze
0 notes - rebloginnsmoutheridan asked: glub glub
>thwack
0 notes - reblog