Re: [Dahlia's trailer.]
[While she was away, there's a soft scuffling from the washroom punctuated by soft, unhappy groans of effort. When she returned with the glass, Dahlia had managed to push herself up, a bit crookedly, less twisted around now but one cheek still squashed up against the cool tile. Sitting up sucked, she decided. It made her stomach churn and everything dance hideously around her and she fucking hated it. She just wanted to lie back down and curl into a ball and just stay there for the next thousand years. The effort to move had been exhausting--or perhaps it was just how it felt when restful sleep had been at a real premium for days in between, well, you know, the rolling blackouts. Luckily, trailer living meant sleep was literally right around the corner. God, lying in bed sounded heavenly right now, even if, wait--a warning blipped weakly in the back of her mind at sleep. She couldn't remember why she decided it was a bad idea but, then again, she couldn't remember a lot of things right now. That was generally the point of her drinking.
Dahlia finally cracked one eye open, though, barely seeing at all, eyeing the blurry shape of the proffered glass. Thirsty. Christ. So fucking thirsty. Freeing a hand from her blanket burrito, she pawed blindly and grabbed the extended arm with her clumsy fingers for support, while she dipped her nose in like an animal at the trough. Sheer unfortunate experience reminded her to go slow, or else she'd just gag it all back up. So she took her time, sipping steadily and noisily, with more water running down her chin than not, but determined.
And--a little life came back to Dahlia almost instantly. Or, well, it was a bit like dialing the alarm back from an eleven to a ten, but still an improvement, right? Lapping at her lips again with her freshly-damped tongue, her bloodshot squint drifted up the arm she was hanging onto, to the person it belonged to, seeing Wren for the first time. The recognition was slow and sluggish, but when it finally dawned, she just swore softly, consonants in a slurry.] Fffuck. [Of course it was the new boss, seeing her mess, seeing her like this. Of fucking course. Great. She seemed to retreat a little more into her blanket like a turtle, gaze dropping in shame as she sighed--but sounding less hoarse than before, so. Small favors.]