no flush at night to sound your return, i still pretend you're only out of sight ...

but there was a problem he hadn’t prepared for until he saw sigma; how the alcohol would mix with the anger. rust abandoned his spot at the bar to walk up to the man who had been leaning against the wall, holding a drink of his own, and without a word, grabbed the glass in his hands just to throw it down with enough force to shatter the glass, alcohol splattering every which way. “why the fuck are you still hanging around here?! you and my brother don’t have decency to go farther than one mile from the tower so no one has to be reminded of your sorry fucking existences??” 

he swore he could only hear the sounds of his own footsteps on that path. his own, and then suddenly, someone else’s. footsteps that sounded almost.. familiar rung through his head like a headache. they belonged to honey. his baby sister, the one he was pretending wasn’t about to enter the arena by morning. he couldn’t do anything but stare. he was angry. angry at himself for not coming sooner, for leaving in the first place. he was angry at honey, like a father, disappointed in a child for doing something so reckless to land themself in such a damning situation. it wasn’t her fault, but the little baggie of white powder she clutched close sure as hell was.

“what do you think you’re doing, exactly?”