[ sms ] : wait , you aren't home ? where are you ? [ sms ] : why are you drunk and alone with a dead phone ??

SUBJECT: y'all are getting out of hand NOTIFY: @griefkill CONCERNING: luna-lalalala

@griefkill liked for a (semi-plotted) starter!

. Late morning, and the sun is peeking through the shades. Light streams in through the open windows, touching on the mattress beside them.  

. The Governor had stumbled, piss drunk, through the dark halls of his foul home to pass out on the futon sometime around dawn. He’d stripped naked on the way, boots tossed in two directions, work shirt draped over a stack of records, and had slipped under the covers beside Elena in only his bare skin. 

. The contents of his pockets make a trail from the front door to the ‘bed’ room, showing the serpentine route he had taken earlier. Gum wrappers and hair bands and cigarettes. His .38 had been tossed haphazardly on the floor beside its accompanying belt. His large buck knife, rusted with blood, had fallen out of the sheath and now lay like a deadly trap, waiting to be stepped on. 

. A wallet lies open on the filthy carpet beside the discarded jeans, the face on the ID held within staring wistfully up at the ceiling. Him, but younger– much younger.  

There's not been a damn thing in this place that hasn't tried to kill him. Either by the rusted hooks conveniently lined up in these.. arenas? Or by them spotting his figure in the fog, whatever hell he's been dragged into is quite fond of pulling him apart. Mike isn't keen on dying again. Hiding out inside a building straight from the oldies (and dismayed that every bottle of liquor inside was empty), any hint of motion has him wary.

He recognizes this one, too. Too bad he doesn't have a flare. A harvested piece of splintered board was all he could find as any semblance of a weapon- no guns, no blades, not even something like a hammer could be lifted from the places where he scavenged. Makes him wonder if this is how his brother felt when he was getting his shit rocked at a bar.

"M' sure as hell not gonna let you take a drink from me, again." There is no waver in the way he holds the makeshift stake, or speaks to @griefkill