miles baines: riff-raff! street rat! (mimicks) wrote in emillion,
Miles/Aud/Ari | slightly later morning
“Wake the fuck up.” Miles normally didn’t guard his language much, but the profanity was cranked up even higher than usual. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, rumpled and creased, his hair tousled, and he was in no mood for this. (The half-mad thought occurred that if he had Lionel here, he could’ve simply tasked his brother with picking up both pint-sized women and physically carrying them off and away, out of his apartment and life.)
The mattress was already ruined – there were wine stains too, splotched across the sheets and girls’ dresses in a particularly unflattering, messy, drunken sight – and he’d already resigned himself to replacing it.
So the man disappeared for a moment, and then returned with a pitcher of ice-cold water. He threw open the bedroom window, letting in the winter breeze that had already turned his living room into an icebox, then proceeded about the following:
Miles ripped away the soggy comforter cocooning Audrey, and he flung the pitcher of water across both of them.
“What the flying fuck, Miles? Are you shitting me!” Bingo. Audrey was wide awake now. Stepping one foot on the floor she quickly found her body was not ready, stumbling into his dresser and using it to prop herself up. She had minor recollections of yesterday, her head now pounding and light headed. She was cold, freezing actually. Her hands left the dresser as she tried to keep her arms warm, shivering.
“Look, they’re just things,” she figured there was more damage in the living room. “We’ll replace them. You act like we won't.” Audrey didn’t understand.
Ari’s contribution to the conversation was first a shriek loud enough to set her own ears ringing and then a fumble as she half jumped, half rolled out the bed. Her first question (why do you hate me?) was quickly wiped from her mind with her second question (where are we?), which was fortunately held back as well. The icy water had given her at least some of her wits back, and the answers appeared to be because you destroyed my house and see above answer, respectively.
Oh, well, this was all rather unfortunate.
Audrey’s screeching resolved into words; Ari tugged at what was left of her dress as she echoed, “You’d think someone stabbed you.” Things were replaceable -- Aud was sitting on a fortune, and Ari wasn’t so ill-off herself -- “And anyway,” she muttered, quite unaware that she was speaking her thoughts aloud, “I seem to recall your coffee table was ugly.”