song_tra_bong | (no subject)

The knock at the door...for a second, he thinks it might be Random. But no, of course not.

'Yeah.'

He's in there, alright. He's sitting at the dresser with his head resting unevenly in one hand, a pile of white powder and a razor blade in front of him. He's so fucking high he can hardly move, let alone focus properly on the door, and he doesn't even care.

(wrong sound wrong voice something wrong)

"...can I come in?"

'Nngh.'

Which probably means 'yes', he just cant be bothered to be articulate. Or is incapable of it. The room is spinning for him and he's trying to think that he shouldn't have done that last line, because he's breathing funny now and really needs to come down.

She twist the knob--unlocked--then shoulders the door open just far enough to slip inside.

She sets the tequila bottle on the floor, then takes a step toward Ramon.

"...you okay?"

'Mmm.'

He nods, though it looks like his head might just keep going down to the floor for a moment there. Then it looks like he might have something to add but it wont come out and his eyes aren't focusing anywhere near her.

(oh hell godfuckingdammit)

She crosses the room quickly, crouching down next to him.

"Talk to me, người yêu. Please?"

He nods again, blearily (yes, talkingisgood), but doesn't actually say anything. He points instead in the general direction of the drawer in the bedside table. There's a bottle of pills in there and he's pretty sure he'd better take a couple but can't make the words make sense.

Mary Anne gets the jist.

"Be right back."

She heads to the drawer, but hesitates when she sees the bottle.

(more goddamn drugs bastard probably needs his stomach pumped and you have no idea what to do)

He holds out his hand, trying to keep it steady (see? Not that bad) and blinks at nothing.

She can't decide if she wants to punch him or cry.

"How many?"

She'll be damned if she's just giving him the whole bottle.

His head jerks in a mild convulsion and he tries to catch his breath properly to calm his heart down.

'Two'.

She hands them over, then snaps the lid back on the bottle.

"Lemme get you some water."

His concentration focuses entirely on not dropping them and he doesn't care about water. Dry-swallowing is fine and it's a bit of a relief, if he's honest. Something definitely isn't right but a couple of downers should fix it up.

''nks.'

"You're welcome."

The bottle goes into her back pocket, and she runs a hand through his hair.

"...what the fuck, Ramon?"

Her hand feels nice. It's also a touch depressing and he just shrugs one shoulder.

'Fun.'

She laughs, soft and a tough bitter.

"Looks like it."

'You my mother?'

His head is starting to calm; the valium wont have had time to kick in yet but the knowledge that he's taken it is enough to get rid of nerves and lower the adrenaline.

Her laughter is lighter this time.

"If I am, you've got serious problems."

'Mmmm.'

He scrubs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. Better.

'Drink?'

"How about that water?"

If he thinks she's letting him mix coke, valium and tequila, he's got another thing coming.

'How about that tequila?'

His expression is belligerent already, he fucking knew she'd start to give him shit.

'It's my birthday.'

"And you've got enough drugs in you to choke a horse," she counters.

'Your point?'

Now he wants to drink just to piss her off.

She wants to break the bottle over his head.

Instead, she stalks back over to the door and retrieves it, twisting the top off and taking a long drink.

"Here."

She sets the bottle down maliciously hard on the dresser.

'Thanks,' he says, matching her malicious tone with his sarcastic one. He reaches for the bottle and also takes a long drink, eyes on her as he does.