Comments | wesleynotponcy: Room 504, Tuesday Afternoon

wesleynotponcy

Room 504, Tuesday Afternoon

May 31, 2011 08:28

It was afternoon. Or maybe it was morning. Or night, even. Wesley hadn't moved since coming to his room in the first place yesterday after finishing watching the Games, at which point he'd slumped onto the floor with a bottle of scotch and proceeded to down what felt like most of it. His head lolled back against the bed behind him.

Everything hurt ( Read more... )

person: karla, place: 504, wesley hates the capitol, issue: hunger games, tw: alcohol issues, wesley drinks scotch

Comments 46

glacial_witch May 31 2011, 16:22:40 UTC

Karla...wasn't entirely sure what time she'd left last night. It was long after the scotch (and the wine and the honey-pear liqueur and the...shut up, her metabolism made it really hard to get drunk and Wesley had claimed most of the scotch for himself) had vanished and the sun had been coming up over the horizon.

It had taken awhile for her to convince herself to get out of bed and then slightly longer to convince herself not to just call a portal and go somewhere--anywhere--else, but considering the state she'd left Wesley in last night, she be a lousy friend if she didn't check in on him, promise or no.

So after a shower long enough to help her feel human again, and a quick stop for water, tea, and real food, Karla was tapping on his door.

"It's Karla," she called through the wood. "I'd like to come in."

wesleynotponcy May 31 2011, 19:55:47 UTC

Wesley groaned, cradling his empty bottle to his chest in preparation for Karla's return. She could come in, but he didn't want to be judged -- or more importantly, to have his scotch taken from him. This wasn't a time for sharing, and he needed all of it. And no, he wasn't immediately aware that it was empty.

"Come in," he rasped, utterly unaware of the mess she would find inside.

glacial_witch May 31 2011, 20:22:03 UTC

He wasn't going to be judged, but Karla was going to take his scotch away. She would even if it hadn't been empty for hours. One day of drinking to cope was allowable. More than that was not.

"Hey," she said softly, opening up the door. The mess barely got a second look; she'd seen most of it already. "How's the head?"

There had been stern conversations about drinking water before she'd finally staggered out, but she wasn't sure how much he'd actually been listening for.

wesleynotponcy May 31 2011, 20:25:50 UTC

The water thing had gone completely over his head, yes. But that was fine, because his head ached and he liked it that way. A dull sort of throbbing to remind him of how much pain he was in.

"Good," he rasped. Although his definition of "good" was a bit different from that of someone who wasn't clutching an empty bottle.

Thread 46