013} the cheapest stuff is all i need / to get me back on my feet again

[theresalwayshope]

[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.

Comments

[theresalwayshope]

Just 'cause I'm a lightweight doesn't mean I'm not tough, y'know.

[She nods emphatically...then her eyes go wide when it registers just who she's talking to.]

...Stephen?

[Stephen is an inmate now. Just like Jackson is an inmate.

Just like Allison is going to end up as an inmate eventually.

And just like that, Allison sort of wishes she hadn't traded the vodka for water.]

[dinosize]

...were you expecting someone else?

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison shakes her head mutely, regarding him with wide, sorrowful brown eyes. She blinks hard, not against tears, but because she's trying very hard, at least for a second, to not be drunk because it's Stephen and she hasn't talked to him...and he's been demoted.]

Are you okay?

[dinosize]

...d'you want me to go?

[ It's not exactly a friendly reaction. And he, like her, is too ready to read something as rejection. ]

[theresalwayshope]

[She blinks at him fuzzily, folding her arms and leaning heavily against the counter.]

Why would I want you to go?

[It might sound polite or dismissive...except that, coming from her, it's guileless and innocent as a child, eyes wide and questioning, if a little unfocused from the alcohol.

She hasn't talked to Stephen since before he was demoted. He's her friend, and he's in trouble.

She will never, ever want him to avoid talking to her.

It's simple fact in her mind as she shifts to rest her head on her folded arms, still watching him quietly through the feed.]

I wanna know how you are.

private

[dinosize]

I'm not pissed on vodka.

Come by tomorrow, I'll make you something good for recovery. Dining hall's got all sorts of smells, it won't be pleasant.

[ He's trying to work up to saying how he is, really. ]

private

[theresalwayshope]

Ste-phennnnn...

[Yes, she's whining, Stephen. But you're deflecting. She's drunk, she's allowed.]

private

[dinosize]

It's not good.

private

[theresalwayshope]

[Oh, Stephen. You're going to make the poor drunk Allison cry. Not good is not good.]

It...it will be, y'know. I promise. And I don't break--I do not break my promises, Stephen.

I'll help you.

private

[dinosize]

Allison - there's really not much you can do.

private

[theresalwayshope]

Yes, I can. I'm your friend.

[And friends help. She's not so drunk she doesn't know that.

...she is drunk enough, however, that she doesn't say that out loud. She just keeps talking.]

I'm a good one, too. I...thought. Am I...am I a good friend, Stephen? Or do I suck?

...I suck, huh?

private

[dinosize]

You're seventeen. I'm almost twice your age.