"Okay. Tell you what... you wait here a few minutes and I'll get everything ready?"
There's a bed to turn down, water to have ready because he needs it, maybe one of the wastebaskets just in case... And it seems likely to her the best course of action is to just get him dried off and directly into bed.
She kisses his forehead, slowly getting to her feet. "Do you want clothes or do you just want to get right in bed?"
There's a bed to turn down, water to have ready because he needs it, maybe one of the wastebaskets just in case... And it seems likely to her the best course of action is to just get him dried off and directly into bed.
She kisses his forehead, slowly getting to her feet. "Do you want clothes or do you just want to get right in bed?"
"No clothes," she echoes, grabbing one of the towels. She dries herself off quickly and then wraps it around herself--look, that's what the man said, no clothes.
The sounds of her moving around the apartment are hopefully unobtrusive: glass filled in the kitchen with water, ferried to the bedside; thermostat adjusted; bed turned down; wastebasket near the dresser emptied and moved closer to the bed (though he'd likely have already been sick were it to be the case, she's always planning for any eventuality); lights elsewhere turned off and all the other usual going-to-bed tasks.
Eventually she reappears, leaning down to touch his arm. "Cynric. Ready?"
The sounds of her moving around the apartment are hopefully unobtrusive: glass filled in the kitchen with water, ferried to the bedside; thermostat adjusted; bed turned down; wastebasket near the dresser emptied and moved closer to the bed (though he'd likely have already been sick were it to be the case, she's always planning for any eventuality); lights elsewhere turned off and all the other usual going-to-bed tasks.
Eventually she reappears, leaning down to touch his arm. "Cynric. Ready?"
She understands. Stretching out will be a lot better, easier, in bed. It was a brilliant idea on his part, really, the necessity of lying down as he sobers up aside.
"Come on." Her voice is as soft and gentle as her hand on his arm, which now shifts to take his elbow. "Let me help you up. We'll get you dried off and right into bed, you'll feel better."
"Come on." Her voice is as soft and gentle as her hand on his arm, which now shifts to take his elbow. "Let me help you up. We'll get you dried off and right into bed, you'll feel better."
Sounds good for me. Cynric can get all the pretzels :D (this is a long, sad tale about pretzels, after all.)
[It is a nice story. It has a nice beginning and a slightly hole-filled darker middle and then the light comes out again for the sweeping end.
The best part, Lee thinks - or would if she were more conscious - is the fact that this story hasn't actually ended yet. That the little boy - now a not-so-little man - has found a place to be safe and loved and that that won't stop for the foreseeable future. That maybe there'll be growing pains still with his new friends but all in all he probably picked better candidates for himself than the hand he was dealt at birth.
It's a story with a happy ending, and no real ending at all yet - and possibilities are some of the best endings. The very best.
So the little not-sister in his lap will shift and hum and make herself only quietly known all night as he talks himself out. She'll cling sleepily to his hand and mumble occasional nonsense and hopefully he stays put through the most of it.
Because come morning, she's going to be far less content and far more volatile regarding stomach contents and light levels and sounds and it'd be a pity for such a happy ending not to gather the scrapes of real friendship. Hopefully he'll hold her hair back. Hopefully she'll aim far, far from his lap or arms or feet.
Hopefully, mostly, things settle right back to normal.]
{ooc; that last tag was so sweet I just need you to know :3c I think our hooligans earned this happy ending y/y}
The best part, Lee thinks - or would if she were more conscious - is the fact that this story hasn't actually ended yet. That the little boy - now a not-so-little man - has found a place to be safe and loved and that that won't stop for the foreseeable future. That maybe there'll be growing pains still with his new friends but all in all he probably picked better candidates for himself than the hand he was dealt at birth.
It's a story with a happy ending, and no real ending at all yet - and possibilities are some of the best endings. The very best.
So the little not-sister in his lap will shift and hum and make herself only quietly known all night as he talks himself out. She'll cling sleepily to his hand and mumble occasional nonsense and hopefully he stays put through the most of it.
Because come morning, she's going to be far less content and far more volatile regarding stomach contents and light levels and sounds and it'd be a pity for such a happy ending not to gather the scrapes of real friendship. Hopefully he'll hold her hair back. Hopefully she'll aim far, far from his lap or arms or feet.
Hopefully, mostly, things settle right back to normal.]
{ooc; that last tag was so sweet I just need you to know :3c I think our hooligans earned this happy ending y/y}
She'll have to remember, in the morning, when he's ready to hear it, what a genius he was. Suggesting bed to stretch out. Insisting she skip clothes she would've gotten damp right away as he leans on her.
But now her focus is entirely on looking after him. On getting him dried off as best she can, drawing a towel over him while holding him up.
"Okay to the bedroom now," and she draws his arm across her shoulders. "Ready?"
But now her focus is entirely on looking after him. On getting him dried off as best she can, drawing a towel over him while holding him up.
"Okay to the bedroom now," and she draws his arm across her shoulders. "Ready?"
She wasn't expecting help; she's done this often enough in the past, and not gotten it, to have expected it here. It's all right. She knows she's also pretty useless after a certain amount of alcohol.
She laughs, she sound tapering off into a pleased little him as she puts her arm around his waist, catching a bit more of his weight. "I've got you," she says softly. "We're going out the door and across to the bedroom."
It takes a bit longer than it normally would, but they manage it. She turns them both as they reach the bed, so she can sit, nearly getting him seated beside her. It's far more elegant than dumping him onto the bed or letting go and hoping for the best.
"Can you get some water in you?"
She laughs, she sound tapering off into a pleased little him as she puts her arm around his waist, catching a bit more of his weight. "I've got you," she says softly. "We're going out the door and across to the bedroom."
It takes a bit longer than it normally would, but they manage it. She turns them both as they reach the bed, so she can sit, nearly getting him seated beside her. It's far more elegant than dumping him onto the bed or letting go and hoping for the best.
"Can you get some water in you?"
"Mmmm, so that's a 'no'."
He's flopped over, so she has to crawl over his legs to reach the middle of the bed. She curls into his side, drawing the covers partway up. She drapes her arm gently across his body.
"Go back to sleep for a bit, mm?" She can try getting some water into him if he wakes later.
He's flopped over, so she has to crawl over his legs to reach the middle of the bed. She curls into his side, drawing the covers partway up. She drapes her arm gently across his body.
"Go back to sleep for a bit, mm?" She can try getting some water into him if he wakes later.
It startles her to hear it given voice, to hear the word said out loud.
But it's true. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't thinking the very same thing right now. Or if the idea hadn't crossed her mind every other time she'd said--promised--that she'd be right here.
"Yes." She doesn't qualify it, doesn't try to mitigate it with anything like if I can or if you want. Don't they both understand that by now? Neither of them is doing of allowing anything they don't both want.
"Forever."
But it's true. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't thinking the very same thing right now. Or if the idea hadn't crossed her mind every other time she'd said--promised--that she'd be right here.
"Yes." She doesn't qualify it, doesn't try to mitigate it with anything like if I can or if you want. Don't they both understand that by now? Neither of them is doing of allowing anything they don't both want.
"Forever."
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