@jakemercer / loc: his place
News of the supposed suicide reached Adriana six tequila shots deep by lunch and three margaritas on order. the heavy weight that'd settled into her chest following har barrage into silas' bar and unleashing god given hell upon her ex had rattled her all the more following the tangled mess this pantheon had strung up. "you need a new couch," a gruff comment as he broached the daylight ridden kitchen, "it's lumpy as fuck." it wasn't the first time he'd scooped her up in whatever drunken state he'd found her, but something about the tenderness of her cheek and the notable scuff of broken skin across her knuckles said a whole lot more about why he hadn't simply shoved her into an uber and sent her home. spoon clinks against the bowl of cereal almost obnoxiously,, "you ever notice that wheeties taste like cardboard and regret?"
