She hums a bit, squinting her eyes as the light becomes blindingly bright and her gaze shifts from the one corner of her room to the bed. “And you’re in my room. Ya see? I could do the exact same thing, point out the obvious, and still look hot doing it.” She laughs, swishing the bottle around like it’s barely any weight at all- it has decreased in weight since she started drinking so it wasn’t as bad but not as light as a feather. “Whatcha doing here, Judy? Lookin’ for a show?”
“Alright,” he chuckles softly, leaning back against her headboard. It’s amusing, as it’s always been, to see her drunk; but so much of him can’t help but be plagued with the idea that being here could be bad for them. He doesn’t know what she’s going to do while she’s drunk, or what he’s going to do because she’s drunk. He doesn’t trust himself with the thought.
“No, I, um … I didn’t have anywhere else to go. The world is too empty for me tonight.” And I wanted to see you, he considers adding, but backlashes the idea. Hopefully she’ll understand the implication.
Jude’s eyes examine her stance carefully, like a doctor deducing a patient’s condition. “You ready to pass out yet?”
