eight.
Ellis knew he shouldn't have had that last drink, but turning down alcohol is definitely not something he is known for. His head spun as he stumbled his way out of the pub entrance, hands gripping onto any object protruding from the buildings wall that could help him keep his balance. He has done this thousands of times before. Gone to the pub and got shit faced drunk, only to stumble with way home in the dark at two o'clock in the morning. One would think that he would know where he was going, right?
Wrong.
In a chorus of groans and muffled cursing, Ellis somehow managed to turn right instead of left, feet tripping over themselves as he fell into a darkened alleyway; head smashing against the ground with an almighty crack. He hissed through his teeth and swore out loud, a shaken hand hesitantly reaching up and pressing itself against his throbbing forehead, chucking at the feeling of his own blood against his fingers. "Fucking good one, Hunter..."














