i'm in a young rut

Reblog if you'd be *less* likely to pet a cat who was biting you

❝C h r i s t, how long have you been there for?❞ Wincing at the volume of his outburst. ‘Sirius Black’ has never exactly been synonymous with ‘morning person’, but with the drunken haze of the evening before even rolling on to his stomach seems like a chore.  ❝’Course I remember,❞ {liar} ❝Couldn’t forget it it if I tried.❞{lies lies lies}. He seems to be getting disturbingly good at it all really, and were he anyone else perhaps he’d have been worried by it. But worry has never really been his style. ❝Where're we starting?❞ running a hand down his face and lifting the mug in a silent salutation.

❝I’m very well considering it,❞ Lily, manager, sometimes alarm clock and occasional ‘buzzkill’ stood just inside the kitchen of the rather trashed apartment, eyes narrowed in frustration. She’d been near poking at his ribs to see if he was still breathing before he’d finally moved. And it’s with some relief she stalks briskly, heels clicking emphatically on the wood flooring to deposit an aspirin and glass of water in his hands. ❝I’ve called and they’ll wait for you, but we really do need to get going.❞ 

He all but scoffs, wincing as the sound hits his ears and softening his voice to a low drone.❝Then you’d have to say something nice about me at the funeral, wouldn’t you? And it’d warm the deepest corners of my tender ol’ heart.❞ deciding after much internal debating that it was best to forgo the pat to her head, leaning instead against the door frame with closed eyes.  ❝You’re an angel, really. A cranky cranky angel. We should get you a raise.❞ Punctuating his words with a nod and downing the glass of water - privately amazed she’d managed to find a clean glass amidst the wreckage of last night’s already forgotten memories.  ❝Can we get you a raise?❞    

“I have the fucking right to be hostile and i’m not gonna sit around and be peace and love with somebody’s fucking boot on my neck”

❝… We may have a bit of a problem.❞ Clearly out of place where she is standing in the hallway with her arms folded securely around her chest, dark hair lying limp and disheveled, as if she’s only just gotten out of bed. Perhaps it’s not too late to turn back around, she thinks. Sneak around the side of the building, shimmy up a few drain pipes, and rediscover the solace of her flimsy twin mattress. It would certainly provide her with more security (regardless of the noises) than the paper thin cotton sheet currently wrapped around her middle, acting as her only source of coverage above the knee. ❝My dormmate is a little…err…busy, shall we say, and the door is locked…❞

❝ Aaaand now I’m remembering why I was thinking of living off campus this year. ❞ the bluntness of her tone softened ever so slightly by the upturned corners of her lips and the barely repressed desire to laugh. She also can’t help but think that it’s probably situations like this that are exactly why she did decide to stay on for her final year. You might get your own laundry if you rent a house further down the road but the only half naked people you tend to find in your hallway are generally people you’ve invited over yourself.  ❝Need some help? Or, um... a bathrobe?❞  

❝You’re a l i f e s a v e r.❞ Shoulders loosening (ever so slightly) as she cups her hands around the glass and drags it closer.  ❝Need to get myself to the point where - ❞ lowering her voice, brows furrowed as she leans closer to the blonde, ❝That handsy suit has me booked for a private dance later, and you know there’s no way I can get into that sober.❞ Relaxing as soon as the words are out of her mouth and taking a purposeful sip from her glass. There’s no need to let on that she’s less than satisfied with the arrangement to the general populous of the club after all, for all the tentative words she may have about it behind the curtains.  ❝ Might see if I can have a word with Pete about it just in case. ❞

❝ Must be getting around the rules somehow - maybe there’s some sort of clause that doesn’t protect creative copyright over moves after a certain amount of time. Probably hard to enforce them when there’s who knows what in the rules. ❞ Frank muses, scrunching up his face at the sight of the tangled headphones. Florrie’s pockets must’ve been a void or something - how did headphones get so messy anyways? What were they doing to get so…? Frank shakes his head, pulling his hands from his pockets to ruffle his own hair. Shake free his thoughts, so to speak.  ❝ Ah, come on Florrie - you know Alice’d be down here lobbing them with us. Probably. Maybe ❞ He pauses, taking the gum from her outstretched hand and freeing it from it’s wrapper as he paces himself to her speed. His brow creases with thought.  ❝ Wouldn’t she? Either way, eggs are far more cathartic then  a simple blob of gum on the windscreen. Maybe we put it under his door handle, so when he goes to open it- ❞ Frank gestures what he means, grinning widely.  ❝ Invisible. Effective. Cheap, true.❞ He pops the gum into his mouth, pulling a face at the initial burst of flavour in his mouth. Too much at once.  ❝ And barely illegal. Just very, very gross for the other party. ❞  He says around the gum.

❝ To be fair does that mean we could steal their moves from last year’s comp? ❞  raising a brow as a wicked smirk comes across her face.  ❝ Meaning, I guess, one of us stumbles around pathetically while the rest of us stand on and look a little uncomfortable? We’ll have to let ‘Melia know anyway. She’ll know the rules better than we do and it’s not like she wouldn’t have the tapes from last year if they demand proof.❞ Privately she can’t help but agree - there’s not much she can say she hasn’t seen Alice being capable of doing and there was no doubt in her mind that lobbing some rotten eggs would be the least of what she could come up with. Even if agreeing with Frank on the matter just feels wrong on principal.  ❝ How are you going to impress her if she’s not here to witness it then, huh? You’re hardly a reliable witness. And you know I’ll deny it.  You’re not dragging me down with you. Not now.❞ A thoughtful expression comes across her face, wincing briefly as the thought of gripping a gummy door handle. (It’s gross, there’s no denying... Stupid Frank with his good ideas.)   ❝ Popping candy in fuel tank and ketchup on the windscreen wipers.   How do you prove who did that, huh? Not us, that’s for sure.  ❞