song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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ramon

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After checking the directions on a scrap of paper, Mary Anne stops outside room 19 and knocks.

"Oy! Little birds tell me it's your birthday--you in there?

I brought tequila..."

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After a moment, she rolls into a sitting position and leans back against the wall.

Her breathing remains ragged as she scrubs blood from her face with the back of her hand; she'll worry about setting her nose in a minute.

He says nothing and doesn't move. It's suddenly too much of an effort to think of anything at all, so he doesn't.

She's not looking at him. She is very determinedly not looking at him.

snap

She flinches, rubbing her now reset nose.

'Finisshhed now? Ssaid all you came to ssay?'

He has no idea he's slurring, he just wants this over with. His head is a dead weight and her presence is irritating, like that itch you can't quite reach.

"Should throw your ass in the shower," she mutters, mostly to herself.

"Cold water might shock some sense into your fuckin' head. And yeah, I guess I'm done, 'cept for...Just don't goddamn die, alright?"

She refuses for them to go out like this.

In the mornins, he's probably going to have a few freaked out thoughts regarding alternate futures and the implictions of this little encounter. For now, he can hardly keep his eyes open.

'Won' die.'

He's sure about that. Well, fairly sure.

"Good."

She gets to her feet, awkwardly and cringing.

"And don' pass out in the chair. Gonna hit the floor and split your skull."

He'd make a comment on why the fuck that would bother her after this but hey, it's her. Also, too tired.

'Mmm.'

Which might be agreement. Probably is.

If anyone's going to split her skull, it had damn well better be her.

"See you," she mutters, shuffling toward the door.

'Mmm,' he says again, and drags himself up because the bed looks pretty damn good right now.

'Yeah. Bye.'

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