[he leans up, pushes himself off the carpet to grab the bottle with his numbing fingers. his words are still miraculously well-formed, but his motions are fucked. a sure sign that he's actually getting drunk and not just pretending under a tipsy veil.
he takes a swig too. holds the bottle out for his friend again, barely clearing his throat.]
no subject
he takes a swig too. holds the bottle out for his friend again, barely clearing his throat.]
In me. [barely a pause.] I like you, Irahl.