Seamus Hanley Finnigan (drink_up) wrote in snitchers, @ 2017-06-12 21:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: seamus finnigan, char: susan weasley-bones |
Who: Seamus and Susan
Where: Sheffield
When: Monday night, after their journal tiff.
What: Seamus is the king of bad decisions.
Warnings: Well, there'll likely be swearing. Also very drunk Irishmen.
Damn Susan. Damn her and her anger and her hold on him, even after more than four years apart. Damn his bastard of a heart and the sea that lay between here and there. Seamus threw his journal across the room, startling a bird off his windowsill. Even that made him feel guilty and he stomped toward the kitchen in search of mind-numbing whiskey. Lovely, delicious whiskey that would let him drink away his troubles. Had he known that was waiting for him, he'd never have come back or picked up one of those bloody journals. That was a lie, but he could pretend to believe it long enough to maintain the righteous ire he'd built up as they talked. To hell with a glass; Seamus tipped the bottle up to his lips, eyes tightly shut against the burn. It didn't hurt enough. Not like Susan claiming she'd be all right with him dying. He knew it wasn't true, but the words stung all the same. What was the world anymore, besides fucking mad?
Some time and a lot of Green Spot later, he had the keys of his bike in hand. That was bad. Really, really bad. As in he'd end up a stain on the pavement bad. He put the keys down. But he should go talk to Susan. She'd be at home. He could find her. He still had his wand. It was...somewhere. Seamus spun in a circle and nearly fell over, catching a hip on the side table and cursing a blue streak. His wand was...under a floorboard, by the toilet! Getting it out was tricky, though he managed not to brain himself. The world tilted dangerously when he stood. Susan. That was the plan. Find her and he'd figure the rest out after. A point-me spell ought to work, he figured.
Apparating while drunk rarely worked out well for the person doing it, but Seamus popped onto a street in Sheffield without losing anything major (a missing toenail went unnoticed for the time being). There were people about, but he was far too drunk to care that they'd seen him just appear out of nowhere. The whole idea was risky and stupid; if the Ministry heard, they'd be after him in no time. His whiskey-soaked brain brushed right past that thought and back to Susan. She had no right to be so angry! Just because she'd stayed didn't mean she was any better. Damn high-minded girls.
"SUSAN!" he shouted, stumbling enough that he caught himself with a hand against the nearest wall. "Susie!" There was something in Irish, and he would have the garda down on his head if he didn't go carefully - "Susan Bones!" - that wasn't a whisper. He'd wander the whole fucking town if he had to, to find her. Maybe ask someone...there was a nice lad! "Hullo, do you know Susan? My wand says she lives here...oye!" The 'nice lad' shook him off and said some nasty things. Seamus was pretty sure he heard the word pervert in there somewhere, though he hadn't any idea why. Along the way, he interspersed yelling Susan's name with more Gaelic nonsense and a truly awful rendition of the chorus to "The Wild Rover".