19th Resurrection - Drunk. Again.

[sanctus_dei]

[Ladies and gentleman, good people of Mayfield: Theo Crawford is drunk. Drunker than the skinny little lightweight has ever been in his young life. Sure, he liked alcohol before he got into town, especially a good wine. But Mayfield has pushed him into some places mentally where wine seemed to make thing seem a whole lot more pleasant. The more wine, the less Mayfield irritated him. Well, sometimes.

He's also drunk to the point where he's a gotten whiny, and hopelessly lost. After leaving the bar - hurry Theo, before Shizuo comes in for his shift - and taking a few wrong turns, Theo has gotten completely lost in the residential area.

So, be treated to one very drunk, very cranky, very whiny teenager wandering around. He's on your lawn, staring and squinting at your house and mailbox, wondering if it's the right one. He might have even opened the door and stumbled in before realizing this isn't the right place. At one point he's accompanied by his two undead crows, who caw and chatter at him, and who he speaks with.]

IT'S NOT MY FAULT. Why did ANYONE ever think building towns like this was a good thing. Honestly. It's fuckin' nauseating and if I ever make it home, I'm fuckin' burning down the first suburb I see. You can take that shit to the bank.

[The crow on his shoulder chitters something at him.]

Well YEAH. You're some kinda... freaky Mayfield drone crow. Even after I turned you. You're just a stupid bird. Of COURSE you like this place.

Stupid bird. Which way is the house?!

Comments

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

That's right. Whine. You're not getting any sympathy.

[Nudges at him with a toe.]

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

I don't want your fucking sympathy. Stop fucking touching me, geez.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

You're in my house. I can touch you all I want.

[Waving the bat over his head, but not laying a hand on him anymore.]

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[He sighs. He hates everything right now. Even more than normal.]

I can't even get hammered alone without shit like this happening. I hate this fucking town. Get out of the way so I can get the hell up.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Steps back.]

I'm waiting.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[It's going to take a few tries. He's trying to not get dizzy and vomit on your floor. Part of him wants to just to piss you off, but you're also holding a bat and no remorse.

He finally manages to pull himself up using the doorjamb.]

Where the fuck is Brady from here.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

One street over.

Do you need me to walk you there?

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[He looks at you like you suddenly sprouted a second head.]

Why in the world would you do that.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

Because you're drunker than shit right now.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

Yes. I am. Not drunk enough if you ask me.

It's one street. I can make it.

[He starts making his way down the porch. Him making it is debatable, as he's swaying pretty hard. His crows wait on your fence. They knew it was the wrong house, but when does he ever listen to them?]

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Leans against the frame of her front door with her arms crossed, watching him. She's debating whether to help him or give him a swift kick. It's a close toss up right now.]

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[He's being so careful. So cautious. But it's not enough as he slips on the last step and does a faceplant into your lawn. There's a groan as he manages to roll himself onto his back.]

_{Son of a bitch.}

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Sighs and puts her bat down. If anything happens, she's got her fire, so.

Steps over and reaches to help him up, if he'll allow.]

C'mon, asshole. Get up.

[Her voice is decidedly more gently, though.]

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[There's even a point where Theo Crawford gives up. He doesn't look angry anymore, just defeated.

He gives Margot's hand a long look. It takes a lot in for him to accept the help, but he finally does reach up.]

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Helps him up, one arm around his waist, and starts walking.]

Don't you ever do this again.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[He's easy to guide along, despite the occasional stumbling.]

There ain't much else to do around here.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

Blow something up. Destroy a mailbox. Seems like most people like doing one or the other around here.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

Any havoc one causes is fixed the next day. There's no point.

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

Then do something constructive.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

Are you suggesting I get a hobby? [He grimaces. There wasn't much of a selection in Mayfield. If one more of his male drone coworkers asks him to join the guys for golf, he's going to punch a nun.]

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Maybe he could take up nun punching as a hobby?] It could be... therapeutic? Or something. Fuck if I know.

nnng it's bed time~

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

Wine was a hobby. Now I just drink it. 'Lot of it. All the wine here is shit anyway.

good night!

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

That's not a hobby. Try again.

[sanctusdei.livejournal.com]

[POUTFACE.]

Yes it is. Collecting it. When to drink what. There's a lot to it. Gotta know what you're doing.

I mean what the hell, you expecting me to play golf or something?

[The word "golf" has so much bile behind it.]

[resurrectinto.livejournal.com]

[Blank. Look.]

...What's golf and why do you make it sound so bad?