Elizabeth Stonem (
comeoutwrong) wrote2010-08-14 09:47 pm
Room 323 [Saturday, Afternoon]
Sleep, still not the easiest thing to come by, and when it finally did, the timing was all off, leaving Effy crawling her way to consciousness in the early afternoon. Not that it mattered, really, since it was a weekend anyway.
There was the surfacing of the realisation she should probably get up, get dressed, go out, do something... But not really the inclination. Too many other things spinning around in her head. A brief investigation down the side of her bed revealed the bottle she kept there was empty. Well. There went that solution. Shit.
Eventually, she made the effort to slip out of bed and turn up her music loud enough to almost drown out most of the snippets of conversation in the back of her head making her twitchy, and slid down to sit on the floor, back against her bed and head dropped back against the mattress. Picking up bad, floor-sitting habits. Wonder whose fault that was.
[[Door is closed, post can be open with the warning the girl is extra messy and broken. ETA: aaand I should probably tack on an extra WARNING for delicate subject matters ahead: discussion of alcohol abuse, mental health issues, etc.]]
There was the surfacing of the realisation she should probably get up, get dressed, go out, do something... But not really the inclination. Too many other things spinning around in her head. A brief investigation down the side of her bed revealed the bottle she kept there was empty. Well. There went that solution. Shit.
Eventually, she made the effort to slip out of bed and turn up her music loud enough to almost drown out most of the snippets of conversation in the back of her head making her twitchy, and slid down to sit on the floor, back against her bed and head dropped back against the mattress. Picking up bad, floor-sitting habits. Wonder whose fault that was.
[[Door is closed, post can be open with the warning the girl is extra messy and broken. ETA: aaand I should probably tack on an extra WARNING for delicate subject matters ahead: discussion of alcohol abuse, mental health issues, etc.]]
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She watched him for a moment, then stepped in to try and help him put the thing back on. Given his mood right now, she could only see him messing himself up more trying to do it on his own.
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"Don't go hurting yourself for me," she told him quietly, as she finished that off. There had to be other ways to do it, and like she really needed that extra guilt.
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Possibly checking just how tense this whole thing had made him.
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Yeaaah, she wasn't really sure about anything right now, if she was completely honest.
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"But do you want anything." It wasn't always about what you needed.
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"Probably." But it took her a few, and some picking through her desk before she came up with something she'd give him. Paracetamol. Which she held up as she wandered back to him. "Not the strongest shit, but--" Something. That wasn't the questionable crap she probably also had around.
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"Mind?" he asked, sounding sheepish and looking pissed about his inability to do it.
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All out of alcohol, but something that actually hydrated and sobered? Of course she hadn't drunk that.
Top off this time before she offered it up. Look how she learned!
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Still, better than nothing. "Thanks. Need any yourself?"
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"I'll take you." And for once, she probably wasn't meaning that dirtily. At least... Mostly not. She was still her, after all.
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"Think you can handle taking me?" he finally asked, going for sarcasm there.
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"I could," she said as she shifted back against her pillows. Which didn't mean she was actually going to, tempting as the distraction might be.
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