#x reply

        Shoulders lift into a nonchalant shrug, muscles remain slack, she goes to take a step forward and sways. She’s had maybe a few too many swigs. But it’d take another bottle to drown the Slayer. “Ya know,’ a pause, a beat. “--around.” 

        “I believe that’s called a stroke when you have lost feeling in your face.” Lips press against the rim of her own glass, sipping. Club soda, no-alcoholic. “But just let go and dance, hm?” Beverage discarded, next to Caelan’s, freeing up her hands to take the other’s into her own. 

        A drink. She needs a drink. Jameson, Grey Goose, Patron, anything. Doubled. Tripled, perhaps? Slender fingers grip the stained glass bottle of clear liquor before a wrist twists to tip and pour into the crystal glass on top of the island countertop. 

        “I think I was comfortable being blind.” Maybe not the most ideal or practical, but it certainly was the safest bet she had. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. 

        “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... Hey now.” Hands raise in defense, palms out, flat. I think you underestimate how thick a Slayer’s skin is.” 

        Stupid.

        She’d left her blindspot open to the Kulak demon. She’d gotten too cocky. She’d slipped up. She’d made a mistake. 

        Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

        And now she’s here. And every bone in her body is on fire. If she didn’t have a reputation to uphold, she’d be crying right now. 

        “Drugs. Drugs woulda been-- nice.” Not like they would’ve helped. Depends, though. Woulda at least been one helluva distraction. But instead, she’s lying flat on her back, her hardened gaze focused on the ceiling up above while a jaw clenches and teeth grind. The tendons in the hollows of her cheeks flex and dance. Then there’s a p o p. It’s nothing. Just the joint below her temple unhinging and hinging. 

        She’s blinking. Nostrils flare and vision blurs. She tries to ignore it. The burning? The millions of tiny razor blades slicing and sawing through her lungs with each breath? She swallows hard. She tries to ignore it. 

         “You know, there’s still time to turn your birthday into an absolute rager.” Even as she’s lying flat on her back, spine nestled into sheets of shingles that layered the roof of her apartment building. Even as her eyes grow heavy from looking up at the night sky that looks like someone took a mini-gun to from all the stars and lack of cloud coverage. Even with her mind still chasing the last of the chemical swirls courtesy of her friends Jack and Jose. 

         Even with the sunrise being an hour or two away. 

         “Wouldn’t want the first day of twenty-six to be a let down.” A pause, a glance up. A lick of lips, a twitch of brows, a moment of hesitation. “Just say the word.” 

        “I wish you would have told me.” Sword and shield discarded, slender fingers fumbling with golden bracers to start shedding armor piece by piece. “I would have come sooner.” A spine curls and a pair of knees bend, taking a seat on the edge of the couch besides the smaller woman. “You know I would have.” Despite the circumstances, despite the world’s current events. She would have. 

        “Hey man,” hands raise, palms out, two white flags waving to surrender as an airy chuckle breaks. “In the words of Nikka Costa, everyone’s got their somethin’.” Her somethin’ just happens to be Britney vids. “Just let be known it’s nothin’ past o’ three.” Shoulders roll and leather jacket is shrugged free from arms, tossed and discarded off to the side before boots scuff and scrape tile to carry her over to the porcelain tub.