thoughtformed

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shop closde tooday du/e tos icnkess

no need to commme yb

[That's what it looks like when a drunk wizards without any grip of technology is trying to write text messages.

He sucks at it and he doesn't even care.]

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[So that was a no, then. Permitting herself a small sigh, Sheska dropped her eyes to his collarbone for the briefest moment to conceal how much that hurt. She was doing better at that trick now.]

Will you let me sit with you a while, then?

[Usually he'd have noticed, probably. Right now, not so much.]

Yeah. If you wanna.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made a post, I didn't want to worry you. And everyone.

No, I'm glad you did. It's... nice to know. And if you hadn't, I wouldn't be able to talk to you now, would I? You shouldn't be alone when you feel like this. It would have been much worse to find out about it months later. Especially if there was something I could do to help.

Rather no one finds out when I get piss drunk like this. [To be quite honest. It's embarrassing. And right now, anyone around him is a danger, because he doesn't want to say something he'll regret. But he knows better than to tell her that, he doesn't want to hurt her.]

I know... I'm sorry I'm such a spoilsport.

[He's taller than she is but, if she scoots sideways a little and slips her arm round his shoulders, she can gently tug him down to put his head on her shoulder for once, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck and hoping he doesn't take offense at her daring.]

I tend to prefer company when I'm upset, so sometimes I forget that not everyone does. Especially when I'm worried. Thanks for letting me stay a bit.

Drinking myself into a stupor isn't exactly a sport.

[Mostly he takes offense to how much that maneuver moves him around, because he's not exactly feeling the most stable right now.]

I'm used to being alone.

[Sheska doesn't remark on it, but sometimes she wonders if he isn't trying to make it into a sport. But now that he's settled, she won't ask him to move for a while.]

Doesn't mean you should have to be. You're a private person, but you like people. And you have a lot of people who care for you. Especially now that Mr. and Mrs. Potter are here.

[A sport, perhaps. He likes extremes, that has always been one of his many flaws and sometimes a strength.]

I know. I'll have to... I'm sorry, Sheska, I'm just a mess.

Don't apologize to me... Maybe to yourself, for putting yourself here, but honestly, now that I know you're all right - mostly - it's okay. Do you know what brought this on?

Whiskey. [He's a wise, wise man.]

[And she's patient.]

Why did you want the whiskey?

To get drunk. What does anyone want whiskey for?

To dull pain, generally... Physical or mental. They say it means "the water of life." Is that what you wanted to get drunk for? To not hurt so much?

I was just asking hyposteti... hypo... Not expecting an answer. But, yeah, guess you got me there. [Have a rueful smile.]

[She can't help but laugh a little, tightening her arm around his shoulder for a moment before allowing herself to stroke his hair.]

Well you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But isn't there any other way to cheer up instead of drinking yourself to death? Or is this just the easiest?

[Not accusing... Just curious.]

It's not for cheering, just for numbing.

[He pauses for a moment, eyes closing as he leans into her hand.]

Hm. It's least extreme.

[That said he sits up a bit, pulling away from the hand in his hair.]

Edited 2013-10-22 18:17 (UTC)

[It hurt to have him pull back like that, but it had been an experiment, so she hid it from him and went back to simply sitting with him and staying close. He had liked it. He just didn't want it. Maybe it reminded him of someone or something he didn't want to think about. She sighs softly.]

That sounds familiar. Sometimes numb is all you want. A chance not to feel for a while. When everything's a little too much, too raw.

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