LOCATION : SHOCK THERAPY.

🔉 ... ten rum and cokes certainly was the perfect intoxicator, tommy blissfully unaware that his eyes had been fixated on marcus’ rear. it had gotten to a point where he was unable to pinpoint when he shifted from the dancefloor to the bar, as well as when his shirt became victim to the crowd. marcus’ ass really was that mesmerising. he lets out a quiet hum, finally breaking his focus to meet his gaze. “ it’s not? i thought the cover fee covered it? ” light jest, pulling himself inward until forearms settle across the bar, coating himself in a concoction of alcohol. not that he minded, body already slick with sweat. lips settle with a satisfied smile, eyes tracking marcus’ movement until he returns before him. pupils now filling his irises into a void, letting his gaze flick between the aforementioned show and the face before him. “ i think i came over here for water. but, i think it'd be rude not to order an actual drink now. ” dimples bury deep into his rosy cheeks, a mixture of the heat and blushing. tommy was a simple man by nature, everyone knew that. so, when displayed to a sectioned display of ass and a flirtatious bartender, he was bound to buckle. “ i don't know, ... i'm not sure if i can afford your prices. can i think on it? ” tongue swipes lower lip, mouth still spread wide in a devious grin. “ and uh, in the meantime, whatever you recommend. to drink, i mean. ” he's quick to follow the teased ass, clearing his throat indiscreetly as body... adjusts itself.

🔉 ... tommy never spoke venomously, no matter who stood before him. friend, foe, father. but when he was being scolded for the exact reasons his father had been guilty of, it was hard not to. or perhaps, it was the painkillers wearing off and the surging pain that coursed through his body in timely waves. either way, he refused to sit there and be lectured on actions that he'd inherited from saint. two fingers reject the hot cocoa, despite the temptation of marshmallows littered on top. “ you're saying all this like i'm proud of what i did. ” spoken with a stiff jaw, sinking down in the chair until he felt invisible. god, he really wanted to feel invisible right now. “ people fucking died, i get it. people fucking died but i didn't. i have to carry around that guilt and you want to tell me you're disappointed? ” his gaze is low, defeated as he sits arms folded across bandaged chest, suppressing any wincing. “ do you think that's really what i want to hear? god, is that all you're gonna tell me while i'm fucking shacked up at home? ” he breaks eye contact, words beginning to crack in his throat. he understood. he did. but, how was he meant to learn and grow if he felt like a fucking five year old every time? “ you can be mad, fine. but, you can't expect to shelter me for the rest of my life. i need to learn from my mistakes to grow. ” and he sinks, and sinks, and sinks. teary eyed and red in the face, yanking his hood forward to shade himself. it was humiliating to feel this weak and this had only made matters worse.

🔉 ... the night had taken its toll on tommy as he led masses to safety, rewarded with the knowledge that they would no longer have to helplessly roam the streets with the entities that had dominated it. however, it came at a cost. while many were granted safety, others met their demise. his relocation of sound only lured the hordes to vulnerable others, exposed to whatever he'd deterred. one man spread thin as he attempted to disperse these zombie-like beings, praying nothing dipped beneath the dark veil above. but, with his mind distraught and tampered from excessive use, he'd not even thought about his loved ones. not for a single moment. instead, he did whatever he could to protect civilians so they could return to theirs. as he pushed past debris and rotted corpses, he called out to those in distress, pulling on any and all sources of sound to distract the undead. he'd been too late, his manipulation only sending them toppling over as the sounds had come from the consumption of flesh and cries in horror as innocents were devoured. it stings. jaw stiff as eyes well up, only to be met with a harsh swipe whilst apologies are choked out. his surroundings fall quiet, a faint ringing in his ears as his eyes trail over the stringing of guts across the roadside. he almost doesn't acknowledge wilhelm's presence, only snapped back into it when the sword radiates in his peripheral. “ wil? ” sore eyes examine him, almost in disbelief. this was new. there's a slight panic in his eyes, frantically looking over the familiar features he'd grown to love. deeply so. sound slowly tunes itself back in, the sound of wilhelm's voice acting as an instant relief. it earns a weak laugh, hand swiping across cheek then through his matted curls. “ my hair? no, i uh— long night. " all sense of despair has since faded, left with what can only be described as amusement. then a flinch, once (near) clean garments being coated in the viscous gunk of the undead. “ you uh—, you have a sword... ” finger points toward wilhelm, then the sword, then back at him with mouth agape. “ when did that happen? ” and he doesn't notice his body gravitating towards him, not until arms take him in tight and he begins wailing against him. it had been a long night, and then some. wilhelm was exactly what he needed.