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Who: Salazar Brownless, Samuel Bigglesworth, no consciences included!
When: August 15 1979, morning. Well. Afternoon. Knockturn morning!
Where: La res Brownsworth, Sal & Sam's room.
Summary: The last time we saw Sal and Sam, Sal had ingested E and Sam pretended to be on it too to get in bed with Sal! Now, a few weeks later, we had Sal's birthday! ... on which he slipped Sam E to get him into bed! Hilarity ensues! Liberal drug use! Probable hangovers! Awkward moments!
Sal was very confused. This was understandable. If you'd spent your entire life being a raging homophobe, largely due to the training of your best friend, but had spent the past number of weeks having Funny Feelings for said friend, and had gone so far as to drug them to get them to sleep with you, you would be confused, too. It's a confusing sort of situation. Sal's 27th birthday had, as far as 27th birthdays went, been very fun, he thought. He couldn't fully remember. He did remember buying the E, though, and slipping it into Sam's drink while he'd been doing lines. And, being that there was an obnoxious amount of sunlight pouring through their constantly closed curtains, and being that they were both naked, and being that he had his arm over Sam's chest, that had probably gone well. He was distantly aware of being very sore, so it must have gone very well.
Still, there remained the nagging problem of the morning after. Well, afternoon, probably. Sal wasn't entirely sure how to handle this. Not that he'd been sure the last time, but Sam had woken up first the first time, so Sal hadn't had to wait. Now Sal was awake and Sam wasn't yet, so Sal was just lying there, trying not to move, wondering what Sam would do when he woke up. He wondered if Sam would figure out what Sal had done. He wondered what Sam would do if he did. He wondered if it mattered. He wondered how much longer he could stay still before that godawful feeling throughout his body led to him retching.
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