Allison Argent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-09-22 09:20 pm
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-09-22 09:20 pm
013} the cheapest stuff is all i need / to get me back on my feet again
[Duke has...a lot of interesting stuff in his cabin.
Allison found this out when she was trying to straighten up to distract herself. The place is already fairly neat, so it's a useless distraction from Lydia's snub, from her own impotent fury and the bitter sting of not being trusted by her own best friend. Her heart's not in it...but it wasn't hard to find Duke's liquor.
Or his pot...but she quickly put the joints back where she found them.
She didn't consider the bottle of vodka in his cupboard for long, however, before she got herself a glass of ice and poured herself some. She's never had anything stronger than beer, she doesn't really know what she's doing...but it burns going down, and she feels better in the aftermath of her first sip, loose and warm and good.
After two half glasses, she hurts less. After four, she's well past tipsy. On her fifth, she's well aware she's dangerously close to drunk...so she sips carefully at her next, though she's no longer sure what number drink it is.
When her comm flickers on some time later, the video shows her slouched bonelessly over the kitchen counter in Duke's cabin, her head in her hand. The bottle is visible in the frame, and Allison is visibly fascinated by her drink as she swirls the clear liquid in her glass, ice chinking pleasantly against the equally clear surface. She likes the noise, it's soothing...cheerful.
She's no longer staring at the camera. She seems to have forgotten she flipped her comm on as she mutters to herself, apparently having an internal conversation out loud.]
Stupid boys. Stupid Lydia...Jackson Whittemore is not the biggest douche bag I've ever met, y'know? If you'd...just...had some hot chocolate you'd know that. Jerk...jerkette. [She pauses, smiling a little, amused with her jibe. Her features, however, immediately crumble as she sets her glass down and lets her head thunk against the counter. When she speaks again, she's nearly shouting.]
DUUUUUUUUUKE! Why are you comafied?! I DON'T KNOW IF THIS VODKA IS BAD!
[She pauses, then reaches for her glass as she lifts her head just enough to take a sip, talking around the glass in a very small voice.]
It tastes awful.
[She takes a tiny sip, then smacks her mouth and licks her lips.]
It tasted awful.
[She has another sip, then seems to realize her comm is on and blanches, setting her glass down and reaching for the bottle nearby.]
Hey, guys? Guys! I need to know, 'cause...'cause Duke's comafied. Does...
[She trails off, midway through uncapping the bottle. Torn between remembering what she's drinking and pouring more, she makes an intense and carefully executed operation of pouring more into her glass while nearly pressing her nose against the label of the bottle.]
...vodka give you hangovers? 'Cause I don't want a hangover. I just don't want to be sad anymore about...
[She trails off, and she remembers. Lydia turning her away, Lydia pushing her away. Because that was inevitable, wasn't it? First her best friend, then her best friend's boyfriend...then her werewolf, then Scott, then Kira and Isaac and then she'll be an omega with nowhere to go...
Setting the bottle down, Allison picked up her glass and took a long, healthy swallow...then set her glass down and made a face of pure disgust, complete with her tongue sticking out as she shuddered theatrically.]
Ilch.
Allison found this out when she was trying to straighten up to distract herself. The place is already fairly neat, so it's a useless distraction from Lydia's snub, from her own impotent fury and the bitter sting of not being trusted by her own best friend. Her heart's not in it...but it wasn't hard to find Duke's liquor.
Or his pot...but she quickly put the joints back where she found them.
She didn't consider the bottle of vodka in his cupboard for long, however, before she got herself a glass of ice and poured herself some. She's never had anything stronger than beer, she doesn't really know what she's doing...but it burns going down, and she feels better in the aftermath of her first sip, loose and warm and good.
After two half glasses, she hurts less. After four, she's well past tipsy. On her fifth, she's well aware she's dangerously close to drunk...so she sips carefully at her next, though she's no longer sure what number drink it is.
When her comm flickers on some time later, the video shows her slouched bonelessly over the kitchen counter in Duke's cabin, her head in her hand. The bottle is visible in the frame, and Allison is visibly fascinated by her drink as she swirls the clear liquid in her glass, ice chinking pleasantly against the equally clear surface. She likes the noise, it's soothing...cheerful.
She's no longer staring at the camera. She seems to have forgotten she flipped her comm on as she mutters to herself, apparently having an internal conversation out loud.]
Stupid boys. Stupid Lydia...Jackson Whittemore is not the biggest douche bag I've ever met, y'know? If you'd...just...had some hot chocolate you'd know that. Jerk...jerkette. [She pauses, smiling a little, amused with her jibe. Her features, however, immediately crumble as she sets her glass down and lets her head thunk against the counter. When she speaks again, she's nearly shouting.]
DUUUUUUUUUKE! Why are you comafied?! I DON'T KNOW IF THIS VODKA IS BAD!
[She pauses, then reaches for her glass as she lifts her head just enough to take a sip, talking around the glass in a very small voice.]
It tastes awful.
[She takes a tiny sip, then smacks her mouth and licks her lips.]
It tasted awful.
[She has another sip, then seems to realize her comm is on and blanches, setting her glass down and reaching for the bottle nearby.]
Hey, guys? Guys! I need to know, 'cause...'cause Duke's comafied. Does...
[She trails off, midway through uncapping the bottle. Torn between remembering what she's drinking and pouring more, she makes an intense and carefully executed operation of pouring more into her glass while nearly pressing her nose against the label of the bottle.]
...vodka give you hangovers? 'Cause I don't want a hangover. I just don't want to be sad anymore about...
[She trails off, and she remembers. Lydia turning her away, Lydia pushing her away. Because that was inevitable, wasn't it? First her best friend, then her best friend's boyfriend...then her werewolf, then Scott, then Kira and Isaac and then she'll be an omega with nowhere to go...
Setting the bottle down, Allison picked up her glass and took a long, healthy swallow...then set her glass down and made a face of pure disgust, complete with her tongue sticking out as she shuddered theatrically.]
Ilch.
[video] -> [spam? ; others that might reach the room first are free to threadjack!]
[He has no idea if she'll listen to him. And he doesn't know that some of her friends have already gone to check on her out of concern. Perhaps he should be able to assume that, but...
Well his perspective is a little off, he knows. But he's thinking of the parties he went to when he was Allison's age. Parties full of rich, ill-mannered, bored city kids. With access to money and daddy's liquor closet and mommy's pills and with no one to bother checking in on them over the weekend.
Pocketing his communicator he leaves his room in a hurry. Duke, fortunately, is only one floor, one flight of stairs away. He reaches the cabin in no time and tries to see if the door is still open, not even knocking.]
[spam? ; others that might reach the room first are free to threadjack!]
That, and Jerry doesn't have an invitation into Duke's cabin.
When Derek enters, Allison is tucked into a padded bench in the corner, still nursing a glass of water. She frowns when she hears footsteps, but relaxes at the sight of Derek and giggles as she peers at him through her water glass before huffing.]
S'not as pretty without ice. My next...glass of water will have ice. [She frowns very intently, holding one hand in front of her face to count off fingers before holding up three to Derek.] S'my third glass of water. I'm not...un-drunk yet.
[spam]
Crossing over to the bench he kneels down slightly so they're on the same level. It's a little distracting trying to talk to her when she's still attempting to peer at his head through her glass. He has to remind himself, there's no point and no use in getting mad with a drunk and evidently emotionally compromised teenage girl.]
Allison. Has anyone stopped by to check on you yet?
[spam]
[She wonders if it's a sign of sobering up that her head feels so fuzzy now. She's just tired, and drunk, and still unhappy.
Because lots of people have been here. And none of them are Lydia.
Turning back to Derek, she sighs, lowering her water glass and cradling it against her chest as she stares into her own lap.]
I'm...very drunk, Derek. But I'm not very drunk. [In other words, she's plastered, but she's aware that she's in bad shape, and pretty sure all she's done is ensure that she will be one miserable teenage lush come the morning.
It makes sense in her head, at any rate.]
[spam]