“If you haven’t noticed, I can hold my liquor pretty well,” she replies as she sits on the edge of the bed. She isn’t exactly black out drunk, no, the bottle was half empty when she first got a hold of it probably because the boys were having a little contest. It wouldn’t surprise her that they went off to get some more, leaving her with the scraps of cheap liquor when they’d go off to steal a decent bottle or two. “Hardly even drunk,” she rolls her shoulders back and pushes off, making her legs casually bump into his as she hoists herself near him on the headboard, looking at her toes. “How poetic,” she muses, smirking a bit, implying to the words he said about the world being empty.
There’s an edge to his tone, a sharpness of doubt and spite and concern. “Lani,” he says, too serious for the context, too thoughtful. But Jude knows his place with her. He knows she doesn’t care if he cares too much about her being drunk.
So, after a moment, he deflates, dropping his gaze to his lap. “This is what you do when you’re alone, huh? Never would’ve guessed. I thought, maybe, uh –– like, solitaire and online chatrooms.”
He nudges her gently. “I tried drinking once. I really – I don’t get the fad. Hangovers suck.”
