Re: Quicklog, Motel: Hannah S/Reece E
I can't disagree with that. [Limoncello. It was like, lemon and a cello, and, honestly, varnish and wood would so be easier to swallow than fucking vodka.—Reece wasn't thinking about where he was going to sleep tonight. He'd only been in the little house behind the Mean-Eyed Cat for like, two nights, and, even though it was tiny, that was better than the empty train station. Still, though, it wasn't like, home, and it had that feeling of temporariness to it.
He sighed as he mixed his second drink.] I don't know. Probably not? She'd know more than I would. I mostly just feel confused. And then there's the fact that like, you know, someone forced a dick in my mouth, but I'm probably supposed to be over that. [Because it sure hadn't come up again, had it? No pun intended, at all. He'd rather die than pun in this specific instance.—Reece shook his head about the sock.] It was just a little. [But, he smiled that wobbly smile.] Thanks, though. Your feet are like, a fine size.
[Back to the bed, and he downed half of his new drink. It was much more soda than vodka, so that was good, but then Reece realized, he'd rather retch than be sober, so he stood back up to pour himself a lot more alcohol.—Even if Hannah wasn't blushing, he was. He looked at her over the rim of his glasses as he splashed vodka into his cup.] I'll tell you something. [He sipped the vodka, grimaced, and accepted that this was a much better way to get drunk. He sat heavily on the bed again.] A lot of people want to be wanted. They don't just want you to want sex. They want you to want to have sex with them.