nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-05-16 15:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, loki |
vegen eg følgjer er kalde, så kalde
Who: Nish and Daniel
What: After the events of last week, Nish needs a friend.
Where: Pax, then Bosscat Kitchen and Libations
When: Backdated to Monday, April 24th, evening
Nish had been distracted all during class. She went through the motions, followed instructions, but her heart wasn’t in it, and her mind was elsewhere. The events of last week, far too many to name, all weighed on her, bringing her down into despondency and occupying most of her thoughts. Even Jessica had noticed her distance at work today, though she knew enough about Nish not to prod until she was ready to talk.
Once class was over, she lingered behind as everyone filed out and the instructors packed up the equipment with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Anticipating going out, she’d brought her wallet with her, though she would be just as happy sharing the bottle of rum she had up in her apartment. She looked up at Daniel as he approached, forcing a smile for his benefit. “Where to? I don’t care where, as long as there’s alcohol.”
"That bad, huh?" He nodded and she smirked in answer. "I got you. There's a place I've been wantin' to try, anyway. I'll drive, you can get shithoused if you want." She smiled and grabbed his arm with hers.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” she joked weakly.
He glanced down at his wardrobe and realized he should probably change. But he cared precious little, certain he cut an impressive enough figure to charm his way into the restaurant, so without further ado he held the door and escorted her out.
His keys jingled merrily in his pocket as they made their way out to the parking lot. His bright blue Subaru was hard to miss, and he made a beeline straight for it. "So what's the occasion?"
Her brows rose in appreciation when she saw his car, letting go of his arm when they neared and opening the passenger door once it unlocked. She took her time getting in and buckling up, and then took a deep breath. “Breakup?” she said, almost as if asking him if it was real, or if it was an appropriate reason to go out and get drunk. She winced slightly at the word, as if it was wrong somehow, but it only felt wrong coming out of her mouth. It had been almost a week, and it still didn’t feel real.
"Ouch." The car roared to life, punctuating his very small sentence. In the same instant, thumping bass poured from the stereo, drowning out whatever he attempted to say. He turned the volume down to a dull roar. "Not a mutually agreed-upon thing, I take it." He flashed an impish little grin, quickly working to steer the conversation to something less dour. "I'm taken, y'know, so if this is your way of tryin' to get a rebound lay…"
She managed a smile and a soft chuckle at that. “You wish,” she quipped, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She picked at the hem of her shirt as they drove in silence for a moment, finally leaning back against the headrest with a sigh. “The truth is, I saw it coming,” she told him with a little shrug. “I knew for a while things weren’t...right. And it was my fault.” She wanted to be pissed at him. She wanted to scream and rage and call him an asshole and key his car and all the things people did after a breakup. But she couldn’t, because he was just too damn decent, and because she knew that she’d done it to herself. All she could do was eat the cupcakes Alice had left outside her door and get as drunk as she felt like every night and hope that one day she found a way to move on. “I did this to myself,” she murmured her thoughts aloud.
Daniel shook his head. One hand on the shifter, the other on the wheel, he could not give her words the dismissive wave he felt they deserved. "Don't get all maudlin on me," he said, "not before we've even started drinkin'." He cut her a look, trying to read in her expression the story she wasn't telling. "Look, I'm not gonna pry, so you can vent if you want to or just get blitzed and pretend everything's fine. Totally up to you. All right?"
Nish looked over at him and smiled darkly. “Not gonna try and talk me out of it? Tell me it isn't worth killing my liver over? That I should...just accept it and move on like a normal well-adjusted adult?”
"Man, I'll tell you that tomorrow," he said. "I'm not gonna say you should drown yourself in liquor. That doesn't fix anything. But one night…" He shrugged. "Who could blame you?"
She smiled over at him. “And that's why we're friends,” she mused. She glanced out the window to watch the shops go by. “Where are we going?” she asked him idly, pressing her fingertips against the glass to enjoy the slight chill.
"Bosscat," he said, as if that explained everything. "Comfort food and whiskey. I figure we can't go wrong with that."
They pulled up to the restaurant, its slate grey exterior coldly modern, at odds with what they expected to find there. They were sweaty and underdressed, but Daniel showed no signs of self consciousness as he led them both inside. They had a table before too terribly long, and an attentive waitress with a liquor menu only a few minutes later.
"I highly recommend the Laphroaig," Daniel said, "but I imagine nothing here's bad."
Nish sat across from them and glanced at the menu in front of her, but nodded at Daniel’s suggestion. “Sure, I’ll try that,” she said to the waiting waitress, managing a smile for her which fell immediately when the woman went off to get their drinks. She looked up at Daniel. “Thanks for doing this,” she said, sighing and sitting back in her chair. “I guess I could use a friend right now, and you’re at the top of a very short list.” She managed a slightly more genuine smile, but it still didn’t reach her eyes.
It hadn’t really bothered her before, not having a lot of friends, but she was keenly feeling the absence of two people she’d recently gotten far too used to having around. Chris and Rafe had both left their mark on her, in different ways, and both of those absent relationships were grating on her, driving her to distraction.
"I'm at the top of a lot of lists like those," Daniel said, beaming brightly. He flipped open both their menus, quietly insisting they both eat something solid to go with their liquid dinner. "I've never minded. Now that you've got no ball and chain to worry about, you should really get out more. Gotta balance all that work with some play, y'know? The class is a good start, but there's more than just that." He spread his hands on the table before them. "So what else do you do? Talk to me."
Nish couldn’t help the somewhat sad laugh that erupted from her at his ‘ball and chain’ comment. Of course he would force a laugh out of her, and of course that was part of why she’d texted him. She could use a good laugh. “Lately I’ve been just drinking at home with my cat; this is an improvement,” she said, gesturing to the restaurant filled with actual people.
She flipped the page in the menu, spotting a cajun chicken entree that sounded good. “I’ve been painting,” she said with a shrug. “My group therapy recommended I try it, and…” she paused, thinking for a minute, “I think I like it. I’m not very good at it,” she added with a little grin, “but enough that I can get some of my dreams out of my head and onto a canvas and...sort them out that way.”
"Good, good." Daniel nodded. "You don't have to be any good for it to help. You're trying to get all that shit out, not find your second career." He chuckled, shrugging softly. "I mean if you do then that's bonus, but… not the point. Just keep at it. Maybe try to do that every time you feel like drinking instead. You'll improve with time, and your liver will thank you. The cat might, too."
She looked up when the waitress came back with their drinks, ordering the cajun chicken and handing her the menu. Daniel ordered quickly -- a barbecue porchetta sandwich, whiskey okra, and and sweet potato mac and cheese -- and passed the menu off.
“Don’t try and change me now,” she quipped with a little grin, picking up her glass and taking a small sip. “My brother’s been trying for twenty years and hasn’t succeeded yet.” He’d been horrified the first time she’d come home drunk from a party, not long after their sister’s death and far far too young, but over the years he’d stopped being surprised by her behavior. For the most part.
Nish chewed her lip, staring into her glass and lapsing into thoughts of the other night, her mind rehashing what happened over and over as it has done ever since Rafe left. “We had a dream,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself. It had bothered her just as much as the breakup had, though real life seemed to have overshadowed it a bit. “Together, I mean; Rafe and I. The same dream. From what I hear it’s happening a lot in our building…” she trailed off, looking up at him, as if fishing for confirmation. She hadn’t discussed this with Daniel before, but she’d heard things. People talk. She knew she wasn’t the only one experiencing these things.
He did not keep her waiting. Nodding, he finished his generous sip of scotch before giving his answer. "Yeah, that's happened more than once," he said. "I've had a few, me an' different folks. Mine have been pretty good, for the most part, but judgin' by the look on your face, I guess yours wasn't."
She met his eyes, her expression blank, impassive, but for a small quirk at the corner of her mouth. “It’s not every day that you find out you’re the villain of the story,” she said, taking a sip of her whiskey and then leaning her wrist on the table, toying with the glass and watching the liquid shift around inside.
“In the dream, I’m a man,” she said carefully, eyes fixed resolutely on her whiskey, “Loki.” She winced slightly at finally admitting it out loud to someone, though at least she hadn’t told him about hearing his voice while she was awake. “And...well, he’s kind of an asshole. But the horrible truth is...I enjoyed it. Being that. It was fun being a jerk to that...too-perfect god of spring. I even woke up almost laughing at one of the nasty trolling comments he flung at the other guy in the dream,” she said, chuckling softly herself, thought the slight smile faded almost immediately. “The trouble was, the other guy in the dream was Rafe. I knew it as soon as I woke up. And so did he.” She took another drink, draining the glass too quickly.
"You know how this sounds," he said, watching her from beneath one sharply arched brow. They both knew, and that was what made this confession all the more difficult. "I mean, Loki? Like… Tom Hiddleston?" He chuckled, trying to lighten the weightiness of the moment. She allowed a chuckle of her own, nodding. "You're way cuter than him, at least." He put back another greedy sip of scotch. "So look. The way I see it, a lot of us have had dreams like this. They're kinda us, but not really. So if you're worried about being a jerk, or enjoying being a jerk… just choose not to. You aren't beholden to this… dream or hallucination or subconscious drive, or whatever it is."
She nodded again, toying with her empty glass on the table in front of her. “But what if I can’t help it?” she asked him, biting her lip. “What if...I’m supposed to be that? What if I’ve been him all along, and I just...forgot?” She knew how that sounded. She knew it made her seem...well, if not crazy, at least more unstable than she’d let on before. “There are days when it really feels like I’m losing my mind,” she admitted in a low voice, finally meeting his eyes. “Where I think my friends are right to stay away from me.” She’d hurt Chris, and while it hadn’t been intentional, he claimed she’d put him and his friend in danger. And knowing now who was lurking in her mind, she couldn’t rule out that it had been her fault, at least indirectly.
"Well," Daniel allowed, "maybe sometimes they are. We all have our off days. Days where maybe we don't make the best decisions. It happens, and if you know you're not safe for yourself or for other folks, you ought to do what you can to lessen that danger. Sometimes that means takin' meds. Sometimes it means talkin' to someone." He leaned forward in his chair, pointing an index finger at her around the rim of his glass. "But you're not supposed to be anything. You control your actions, Nish. Don't try to weasel out of that. You're better than that."
The waitress came with their food, and Nish indicated to her she’d like another whiskey. “I feel like I’ve been in a constant state of desperately trying to control myself, trying to hide who I really am from people, for my whole life,” she said, shredding her chicken with her fork but not eating it yet. “Because who I really am isn’t...socially acceptable,” she finished with a little grin. “The few times I let go, I get myself in trouble, which only validates the idea that I’m somehow just…wrong.” She sighed and put her fork down, looking at him instead of her dinner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you here to be my counselor, you’re not on the clock,” she smiled wryly, then wrapped some of the shredded chicken around her fork and scooped some rice with it, finally taking a bite.
Daniel shook his head. He wiped a bit of barbecue sauce from the corner of his mouth. "This is what I'm here for," he said. "I'm not really this kinda counselor. But I wanna help where I can, y'know? And it sounds to me like you're defining yourself in a kinda weird way. What's 'socially unacceptable' about you? What do you mean by 'let go'? 'Cause you need to remember, bein' yourself is one thing, bein' an asshole is another, and I'm not sure which one you're talkin' about right now."
She looked down at her food, watching her fork toy with the pile of rice in front of her. “I’ve been told...that I’m a selfish bitch, who thinks of no one but herself,” she said with a smile that was halfway between sad and amused. “A friend of mine…” she bit her lip thinking about how to put it. She didn’t want to reveal too much about what happened, but at the same time she needed to.
“I just...stopped trying so damn hard, when I started using again. I let go...and somehow, by doing that, he says I put him in danger. He said I almost got him killed. The bitch of it was, I didn’t know. I was thinking of myself...I went to one of his dealers, and now...he blames me for something, and I don’t even know what happened.” Her eyes were swimming with tears that she was trying very hard to blink away, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to try and stop them. “He was my first friend here. He saw me at my lowest, he saw that darkness, who I really am. And now he hates me.” She looked up at him and tried for a smile, but it was really more of a grimace. “You may be the last friend I have left.”
To his credit, Daniel reeled in the most visible indicators of his surprise. He covered the rest with a bite of okra and the last of his scotch. Then he turned to the ice water provided them, hoping the chill and clarity might reassure him that his assumptions were unfounded. After a few sips and a sharp crunch of ice between his teeth, he found that was not to be the case.
"So you…" He stopped, shaking his head. For so many reasons he could not afford to let slip what he knew. Frustrated, Daniel pushed his plate ahead of him, his hands resting, folded, atop the table. "Okay. Couple things. One, you're not your drug use or your addiction. You need to stop equating the drugs with just bein' yourself. I'm all for moderate recreational use, don't get me wrong. But when it starts putting you or people you care about in harm's way, when it's takin' you over, it's stopped being moderate or recreational. You get me?" She nodded, looking down at her own plate, a tear finally winning the battle and bouncing down her cheek.
"Second, we all make choices, and then we've gotta deal with the consequences. Right now you lost a friend. You could lose your license, Nish. You could get permanently disbarred. Go to jail. Worse. You can work to get a friend back. Trust me, I've had to, plenty of times. You can't undo those other things."
Nish swallowed, nodding again. “I know,” she murmured. “When I was using...I thought I was being careful about it. I thought I could juggle that, and work, and relationships...but now, I...I was so stupid,” she sighed, looking away from him. She knew if she met his eyes now there’d be no holding back more tears. Somehow, disappointing him hurt more than the threat of losing her job. While she paused, the waitress came back with her second glass of whiskey, and her hand immediately snatched it up and she drank half of it.
“I feel like I’ve lived my whole life with a...a snake coiled in my belly, sleeping. But lately, since I’ve moved here actually, it’s been waking up. And I can’t stop it.” She glanced at her plate in front of her, suddenly not hungry. “I tried to apologise, last week, but...I don’t know. How do you apologise when you don’t even know what you did?” From her perspective, he’d asked for her help, and she’d helped him. Yes, she’d had a moment of weakness and bought some drugs off of his guys, and then went back a few times for more, but none of those guys would ever remember meeting her, she’d made sure of it. She couldn’t understand how Chris thought any of his problems were her fault.
"You ask," he said. His tone made clear he spoke from hard-won and often-repeated experience. A small frown tugged down one corner of his mouth. "You ask, and you listen to the answer. And you recognize that whatever you did, nobody owes you shit. Apologizing is the right thing to do, but it doesn't obligate people to respond how you want, or think they should."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He brought his elbows to rest on the table; he leaned forward, catching and holding her glistening gaze. "Listen, Nish. Stick with your treatment. Stick with whatever help you're getting, even if it's hard. You can change this."
She nodded, biting down hard on her lip to get rid of any more tears, forcing herself to take deep breaths and then draining the last of her glass. “I think what I need is a vacation,” she sighed, “just...hide from everyone for a while.” She thought about it for a moment and then a dark laugh tumbled out of her. “I have so few people left, I doubt anyone would notice.” She met Daniel’s eyes with a frown.
“I hear what you’re saying, but...I tried. He actually stopped to listen last week, during all of that…” she waved one hand, as if to indicate all of the strangeness that had happened in their building last week, “but...I don’t know. He said he’ll never be able to trust me again. And...he’s right. He shouldn’t. I don’t even trust me anymore.”
"Then you need to work on that first." He waved a hand, casually dismissing these fears that seemed to consume her. It was perhaps a callous gesture, though he did not intend it as such. He forged ahead, desperately trying to illuminate the path he saw before her. "You gotta take care of you, first and foremost. Get your head on straight. Get back to a place where you can trust yourself, and you make good decisions for yourself and your future. Then worry about everyone else."
Nish picked up her fork again, toying with the shredded chicken on her plate, smiling sadly down at it. “Are you volunteering to be my moral compass?” she said, more of a joke than a real request. He grinned in answer all the same. She took another deep breath and sighed it out slowly. “I just feel like...everything is happening at once, you know?” she looked up at him and managed another smile. “Work, love, friends…sanity...it’s all falling apart around me. And it’s all because of me. But you’re right,” she said with a nod, finally scooping up more of her dinner. “I have too many things to juggle, so maybe it’s time I just let a few of them drop.”
"Sometimes you've gotta," he said. "And I know it sounds stupid, but you really do have to be good to you before you can do it for anybody else. Once you've got your head on straight, things will be easier. I promise." He grinned broadly at her, trying to pass his hopefulness on to her. "You don't want me as a moral compass, though. You gotta find your own, hon."
Nish chuckled and nodded, subtly wiping away the last of the tears with one hand. “Yeah, then I’ll really be in trouble,” she quipped, trying for a joke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you,” she sighed, her fork toying with her food again. “But thanks for listening.” She saw the waitress out of the corner of her eye and flagged her down again, asking for another refill on her whiskey. “What I really came here for was to get very drunk,” she added with a grin once the woman was out of earshot.
"Like I said: for tonight, go for it." Daniel pushed her plate closer. "But take a bite for every couple sips, okay? I can't have you gettin' too sick, and I definitely won't have you gettin' sick in my car." He chuckled, winking over at her, but there remained something serious underlying his tone. "And I'll remember that thank-you. I'll remind you of it when you eventually get pissed at me checkin' up on you and draggin' you out of your pity parties in the future."
With a grin and exaggerated movements, she made a show of taking a bite of her dinner. “Yes, dad,” she smirked, but then took a few more bites. The chicken really was delicious, and the rice and okra paired perfectly with it.
“I think I should just swear off men altogether,” she decided with a shrug. “I’ve had nothing but shit luck when it comes to guys, you know? Maybe I should just stick to girls, there seems to be less drama. Ironically,” she added as an afterthought. She knew that women could be just as bad as men in the drama department, but it at least hadn’t been her experience. “I need a change, I think,” she decided, looking up at him and taking a few more bites of food as her third drink was set in front of her. She caught the waitress’s eye and actually gave her a once over. “Might as well get me another right away, honey, this’ll be gone soon,” she said with a little grin. The girl blushed lightly and walked off to fill the order.
"Unbelievable," Daniel laughed. "I still say you need to spend time on yourself first. Sometimes it's good to be alone for a while. Figure out what you need, what you want from somebody else. Even if that's just some fun and not a relationship, or vice versa." He shrugged, already convinced this advice would fall on deaf ears. "But if you insist on goin' for the rebound, there's no reason not to see what the other team's got goin' for them."
“Hey, I didn’t say I was looking for a relationship,” she grinned, her eyes following the cute waitress as she ducked out of sight. Then her eyes slid back to Daniel’s. “And I know what the other team’s got, though it’s been a while since I’ve played for them.” Too long, in her opinion. She sipped her whiskey again, the nice buzz starting to slowly find its way into drunkenness, though the food was definitely mitigating the effect.
“So what about you,” she said, setting her glass down and watching him. “How are you and...I don’t think you ever told me his name…”
"I did not," Daniel said, grinning even broader than before. He could hold a name back, but there was nothing for the joy that utterly suffused him at the mention of his fledgeling relationship. He picked at his food, torn between wanting to fully bask in his happiness and trying not to gloat, at least so early on in her singlehood. After another bite he could not help himself. "We're doin' good. He keeps me on my toes." He laughed at his own pun. "Literally and figuratively."
She smiled widely and lofted one eyebrow in interest. “Very good then,” she said, draining the rest of her glass. The cute waitress came back just in time and took the empty glass from her, handing over the refill and then heading off to another table, though not without a backwards glance at Nish and a little smile. Nish turned her attention back to Daniel. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she said with a wistful smile. “It’s good to know someone is. And you definitely deserve it.” She ate a bit more dinner and then sat back in her chair, cradling her new glass of whiskey against her chest like a friend. She was starting to loosen up, the alcohol finally reaching her head and bringing on its artificial happiness. “I’ll have to meet him eventually, you know,” she teased, her smile turning into a smirk.
"Mmhm. You say that, but I know different." He winked across the table at her. "I've hidden significant others from two extremely observant parents. I mean, you an' I don't even live on the same floor. I'm pretty sure I can keep him all to myself." Laughing softly, he speared a bit of okra on the tines of his fork. "But don't you worry. It looks like you've already got somethin' on the hook. Or curious about it, at least…" He tipped his head toward the waitress, still making her way back to the bar.
Nish’s eyes followed his and she grinned into her glass. “We’ll see,” she said, watching their waitress with interest. “Knowing my luck she’s straight as an arrow and I’ll be going home alone tonight,” she said with a wink. She sighed heavily. “God, Daniel, I need to get laid. It’s been weeks.” She pouted a little, but it was more self-deprecating than anything else.
“Near the end, we…weren’t. You know? At first it was me, I’d just gotten out of the hospital, and...I wasn’t sure about things. But then...well, that was me too.” She shrugged and frowned into her glass. “I lied to him, and I think that's what broke us. We were never the same after that.”
Daniel nodded, slow and unsure. "Well… some people don't handle that well, even if you apologize and mean it, you know? It's a tough thing to get over, bein' lied to. Especially if it's about something big, or something that really affects them. Everybody's got their own triggers." He chewed thoughtfully, silent for a moment. "I can be like that, so I get it. The question is are you gonna do anything different with the next one? Have you learned somethin' from this? Are you gonna change the way you interact with people, or what standards you try to keep up in your next relationship?"
He leaned forward, pointing at her with his fork. "Don't worry so much about gettin' laid. You're pretty, you're successful, you're a smooth talker. You can get laid easy. You gotta think about if and when you want more than that."
She grinned at that, taking his words as the morale booster they were meant to be, but the smile faded too quickly as her mind rehashed his other comments.
She drank the rest of what was in her glass, using it as a delay tactic as she thought about what he'd said. Had she learned from this? She honestly wasn't sure. “I...didn't tell him. About the heart attack. I told myself that I didn't want him to worry about me, but...I think I was just afraid of...him treating me differently. Walking on eggshells around me, you know? But he found out on his own.” She sighed and used her fork to play with her food. “It...didn't go well,” she said with a wince. “We had a fight, and my stupid heart chose that moment to start bothering me, and...it scared both of us. Things were...weird between us after that. And then that dream happened…” she shook her head, chewing her lip. “I've had lots of relationships end before, but...this is the first time that I felt like...it was all my fault. And I'm not sure how to deal with that.”
Her companion was shaking his head. "I dunno, Nish. When shit goes sideways it's usually at least a little somethin' to do with everybody involved. I mean I'm not gonna lie or sugarcoat it here… if I was him, and you lied about somethin' that big, I'd be pissed, too. But that doesn't make it all your fault." She shook her head at that, vehemently denying any wrongdoing on Rafe’s part, another pout starting to crease her features, tears swimming in her eyes. She knew it was her fault; she couldn’t think of a single thing to complain about with him, unless it was that he hadn’t chosen to talk to her about things before ending it, or that he hadn’t ended it sooner and instead let them linger in a not-quite relationship for so long.
He shrugged, chewing thoughtfully at another bite before speaking again. "You already know all this," he said. "I think the booze has gone to your head. Let's finish this up and get you some water, yeah?"
She shook her head again, ignoring the fact that it made the room spin. “No, I’m still coherent...with my tolerance, that’s not nearly enough,” she protested, but the waitress hadn’t come back yet so she could order another drink, and the look Daniel was giving her was entirely too much like how Rob would scold her about her overindulgence. “You’re really cutting me off?” she asked with an incredulous laugh.
"I really am," Daniel said. He waved to the waitress, mouthing the words the check at her the moment she turned to acknowledge him. He gave her a thumbs-up and looked back to his companion. "Get mad all you want. Like I said, you're not pukin' in my car." He pointed an index finger at her. "What you need now is water and sleep. For real."
Nish narrowed her eyes at him, watching him silently conspiring with the waitress and then smiling back at her. “I hate you,” she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I’m not even close to how drunk I really wanna be right now,” she complained, but she knew there was no sense fighting with her driver. With a sigh, she dug into her pocket for her wallet and let it fall on the table. “And I’m not gonna puke in your car,” she said with a pout that was far too adorable to be taken seriously.
Daniel laughed, once again waving her off. "Oh cry me a river. You need to rely less on fucking and booze, and that is my professional opinion. Well, and my opinion as a friend, too." She smirked and waved him off with her hand, as if that would make his professional opinion just go away.
The waitress returned, dropping both checks on the table. Daniel scooped up both and handed her his card. As she sashayed away, he looked back to Nish, a sad little smile on his lips. "It's the least I can do," he explained, "since I'm insisting on being your voice of reason, too. I'm really not trying to stop you having fun, Nish. I just… I'm kinda worried about you."
Nish frowned, at first protesting his taking the cheques, and then giving up with a shrug. “You don’t need to worry about me, Rob…” she caught herself and then chuckled at the slip. “Daniel...sorry, you’re just...you’re acting so much like him. And I miss him. And you’re just…so fucking nice. And...I really am alone here...he’s the only family I have left and he’s so far away...I think it’s just become far more obvious just how alone I am after Rafe…” she sighed and shook her head. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little drunk,” she conceded with a little smirk.
"More than a little," Daniel said. "When you're sober you'll realize I'm not nice at all." This seemed unlikely, of course, but Daniel felt he had something of a reputation to uphold, however tenuously. "And the answer to not bein' alone is to get out there and meet some people. Not necessarily to fuck, but I mean, whatever works. Go on Meetup, join a book club, whatever it takes. But you've gotta put yourself out there. Preferably sober." Nish rolled her eyes at him, which was a bad idea, making her wince with slight nausea.
He flashed a grin first at her, then at the waitress upon her return. In his typical quick scrawl he signed the check and tossed pen and paper down to the table. "C'mon. Let's get you home."
Nish slid out of her seat and held onto the table until Daniel stood up, and then took his arm, leaning heavily on him for support as they headed to the door. “I’m not nearly as fun sober as I am when I’m drunk,” she told him matter-of-factly, pointing at him as if instructing him on something serious. “I like drunk-me, she gives far far less fucks than sober-me. Wait, that sounds wrong…” she paused thinking about that. She would give all the fucks right now if she had anyone around who was willing. “We’re going home, right? I’m not fucking in the parking lot…” she grimaced as if he’d been the one to suggest it.
"Damn right you aren't." Daniel slipped an arm around her. He held her close against him, and together they staggered out into the parking lot. "I actually like you better sober, believe it or not. Your coordination is a helluva lot better, for one thing…" He eased her down into the passenger's seat and shut the door behind her. Nish settled in the seat and managed to fumble the seatbelt around herself. Soon music filled the space between them and her eyes unfocused as the street passed by out the window, slipping closed on their own as the music filled her head. Daniel tapped the steering wheel along with the beat, and hoped against hope she would take his words to heart.