RP: Terry, Michael Who: Terry Boot, Michael Corner When: Jan 16, 2025 (after the Evening Prophet was delivered) Where: His quarters, Hogwarts Warnings: Sumamry: Terry deals with Cass' death the only way he knows how.
Terry was drunk. Not in a 'fun, let's go out and find a shag drunk' way, but a 'drink until you can't think or feel anymore' way.
The newspaper lay crumpled on the floor, out of sight but the printed words were imprinted on his eyelids. He could see the headline every time he closed his eyes. British Auror Dies Abroad. It was completely inadequate, and yet perfectly descriptive.
He reached for the bottle of Scotch, his preferred drink of choice when it was a good old fashioned binge he was in the mood for. Vodka made him flirty, whiskey made him horny and Scotch made him forget. And he very much needed to forget right now. He poured a healthy amount into his glass and tossed it back.
Cass was dead. He'd seen him just days before, they'd shagged (as normally happened when they were together), laughed and shagged some more, and now Cass was dead. Like too many before him.
He forwent the glass this time, tipping the bottle directly to his lips, not bothering to savor the taste of the smooth liquid as it slid down his throat. He wasn't drinking for pleasure tonight. He was drinking to dull the pain of losing a friend. Drinking to push down the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Drinking because it was the only thing that helped, even if only briefly.
He closed his eyes, the bottle of Scotch held loosely between his thighs, and tried to forget everything.