Peachy

[Cerys Anwyl]

Cerys had no idea how she got home last night. The last thing she remembered was talking to that busty bartender and throwing back fire whiskeys. There was a vague memory of two hands full of boobs but that didn't make sense to her so she just pushed it away. She woke up to her face in her pillow and the distinct feeling that her head was ripping in two. She was just how she was when she flopped herself on top of her covers last night. Dress, heels, only now her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged all over her face and she felt like she might die. Not very pretty. Last night had been a rough one and though she couldn't remember most of it she knew she was still upset about something. It was sitting right behind the throbbing. For now, though she fully intended on just laying here, face first in bed for the rest of the day. Work be damned.

Hopefully she didn't wake Drystan up last night when she tripped on that candy rack and knocked it over. Maybe he wouldn't notice the lollies all over the floor or that her door was still wide open. Fuck it. She was too tired for life.

[Tristan Jenkins]

Wake Drystan up? WAKE DRYSTAN UP?! No she did not WAKE DRYSTAN UP! SHE JUST LEFT A MESS FOR HIM TO CLEAN UP WHEN HE GOT UP! And a trail back to the perpetrators room.

Which he decided to calm down first before dealing with.

Did he say calm down? He meant clean up and get more ticked off again.

His night was pretty good. He got some reading in. Worked on a few potions for some friends. Wrote a few letters. It was productive.

And then in the morning, after a decent nights sleep, he went down to the shop and saw....hell. Mother fucking hell. That looked the direction of Cerys.

And her door? Well that was open. That was all he needed.

Heading to her door, he practically punched it to 'knock'.

"Get up."

[Cerys Anwyl]

She didn't hear him coming. As far as she was concerned this was her day off. She had a wand to work on that she was trying to ignore but she had already called this one. If she moved her brain would rip.

And then stupid face showed up. Yes, stupid face.

She flinched as he hit the door, then groaned and buried her face deeper in her pillow. Her voice was muffled when it escaped her dry, scratchy throat. "Go to hell."

[Tristan Jenkins]

"Fuck you." Frown. And walking into her room. No, not all the way. But enough to prove he didn't really care at the moment if she wanted him in there or not.

"How about you, oh, I don't know, take responsibility for the fuckin' mess you made downstairs?"

[Cerys Anwyl]

Was he still here?! Why did he hate her so much? Really? What did she ever do to him?

Shifting a bit she finally opened a makeup smudged eye to the room. It caught some sun and quickly shut again. She reburrowed, grabbing a nearby pillow and covering her head. "I'll do it later~"

[Tristan Jenkins]

SHE TRASHED HIS STORE!

Not trashed. Wrecked up an area. But still.

"No. You'll do it now! Do you even know what I'm talking about?!"

Yeah. He got it. She was hurting. Obviously hungover. And he didn't care.

[Cerys Anwyl]

Damn straight she was hurting. She didn't mean to drink as much as she did last night. She didn't even really have money for the first one. But the more she thought about what she was sure had happened the more she sucked down. It made her forget and it was fun. Now she regretted.

For a moment she just burrowed deeper and whined. Why couldn't he just get off her case for five minutes? She spoke up from between the pillows. "Stop yelling at me~ I'll get up later~~ Get out of my room~!"

[Tristan Jenkins]

That's what drinking does. Especially when you're hurting.

It hurts back.

He frowned once again. Holding a firm stance, he crossed his arms. Just waiting for her to be done with her complaining. Obviously she didn't get it.

"Cerys. You knocked shit over. I expect something. And I'm not leaving until you take responsibility for your shit."

[Cerys Anwyl]

Growling in frustration at the idiot in her doorway she finally sat up, throwing her pillow down next to her.

"What do you want?!"

Big mistake.

"Shit!"

She grabbed her head whined again. She moaned what might have very well been a very long 'owww' and considered just laying back down but that would have meant moving again. She had decided right then and there she was never moving again.

[Tristan Jenkins]

"You trashed the shop! I don't care how hung over you are you are not just going to lay around!"

He let out a very frustrated noise. She was really starting to piss him off again. He almost felt sorry for her when she sat up. Almost. But he felt it was justice for what she'd done.

Besides, she'd been drinking. It was her own fault. Anyone who drank that much deserved the hangover.

Though he did feel a LITTLE bad.

. . .

He let out another sound of frustration, turning to head out. Into his room, he grabbed small vile and headed back. Tossing it onto her bed, he turned to leave again.

"Drink it. It'll help. You have two minutes to get downstairs."

And back out.

[Cerys Anwyl]

((For some reason my writing turned to shit in this one. So. You now get asterisk. Do whatever you want.))

*always with the yelling*
*why does he have to keep fucking yelling?!*

*she continues to hold her head*
*trying to drone out the sound of his voice with the ringing*
*she'd be okay if both went away*
*fuck*

*wait.*
*where'd he go??*

*glances up in time to for him to toss the vile next to her*
*she doesn't even try to catch it*
*she's about three steps behind right now*
*she does manage to throw him a very crude gesture, though, on his way out*

*once he's gone she makes a very unladylike noise*
*and grabs the vile*
*quickly uncorking it and downing it*
*any outsider would look in and think 'wow, she should NOT be so trusting of the man she pisses off so much' but she's known Drystan since school*
*she hates him*
*but she honestly can't think of anyone she trusts more*
*shut up*

*the taste of the potion makes her cringe*
*but at least the throbbing is dying down*
*the feel of the sun in the room isn't making her want to cry anymore*
*and the feeling of vomit in the back of her throat is subsiding*
*that's when her head clears up enough for her to remember just why she was drinking so much last night*
*she glances across the room to see the wand in question sitting on her dresser*
*staring at her*
*mocking her*
*she flops back down and covers her face with the blanket*
*no*
*she's not getting up today*

[Tristan Jenkins]

*Tristan did good things.*
*A lot.*
*But they fought a lot.*
*So neither of them really thought about it.*
*Potions was his thing.*
*He'd gone to school for it.*
*He understood it.*
*And he had a lot of potions just hanging around his room.*
*So of course he had the one she needed.*

*But he was just using it so she'd clean.*
*Not that he wanted her to feel better.*
*Shut up.*

*But he was starting to care less.*

*. . .*

*Mother fucking bitch was NOT coming downstairs.*

*. . .*
*He tapped his foot. *
*Waiting.*

"I am going to kill her."

[Cerys Anwyl]

*that's how it is*
*the bad times rise above the good times*
*maybe if he wasn't such an ass*

*and no*
*she's not going downstairs*
*in fact*
*she's pretty close to falling back asleep*
*yes*
*long, deep, forgetful sleep*

[Tristan Jenkins]

*He.*
*will.*
*Kill.*
*Her.*

*. . . .*

"FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK CERYS GET YOUR FUCKING ASS DOWN HERE!!!!"

[Cerys Anwyl]

*mm, maybe she'll dream about that quidditch player*
*what was he?*
*a seeker?*
*oh*
*no*
*keeper*
*she should go to more quidditch gam-*

*...*
*><*

*sits up*
*looking no better than she did the first time*
*only now she may not die*
*pushes herself up*
*and kicks off her remaining shoe*
*(the other is over there where it came off by the door)*
*walks over*
*grams the door*
*and slams it shut*
*pulls her wand out of her dress*
*(so that's what was poking her...)*
*and locks the door*

*walks back to her bed on the floor*
*ready to flop back down*
*pause*
*closes her shades with a flick of her wand*
*okay*
*back to sleep*