Kamizuki Izumo (clouded_moon) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-10-30 10:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | balfour vallet, closed, kamizuki izumo, log, observable |
[Log] Beautiful Colours
Who: Balfour Vallet, Kamizuki Izumo
When: October 13th
Where: The Dorms
What: Izumo comes home with some artificial happy. Balfour is there to meet him and is very, very confused.
Warnings: Izumo, drugs, hallucinations, alcohol, withdrawal, hangovers.
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: Yes until they go into Izumo's room.
Balfour was feeling rather proud of his pie, especially after having eaten a couple pieces and the way Genma had demanded more while he'd been spending time with him. He was confident, in that case, that Izumo would at least try it, so he grabbed the wrapped plate and headed for the commons, hoping he'd be there.
Izumo was feeling very pleased with the world at the moment. On top, yeah, high. He chuckled, because yeah, he was high, a distant part of him was aware of that. But it didn't matter. He took another drag of his cigarette, humming along to himself as he ambled to the elevator. The taste of the cigarette - hand-rolled, no filter - was delightful, but better was the stuff it was dipped in.
Dressed in tight jeans and a dark brown button-up, Izumo was coming off shift at the Domus. It had been a profitable night. He had a little baggie of ecstasy won in a card-game and he'd traded half for his current little drug-high. He'd missed it, and had wanted it, and now he had it was he was blissfully happy. He moved slower than usual, careful, because right now his body didn't feel like his own but that was okay. He'd watch himself and not fall down.
He took care to lean against the wall in the elevator, and took another deep drag.
Balfour spotted Izumo when the elevator doors opened, the younger male grinning brightly and stepping in with him.
"I was looking for you," he said, holding the pie out a little. He recalled Itachi's words about flirting with food, and he snickered. Right. Like he'd flirt with food.
"I made pie, lemon meringue. I hope you like it." It wasn't sweet, after all.
Izumo blinked, and moved out of the elevator. His eyes were a little bloodshot and he smelled heftily of smoke and alcohol. He eyed Balfour and the peculiar offering, then put on a smile. Right, smile for Balfour.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice soft and rather flat.
Face and voice, flat and quiet, because Izumo was happy but he also was far off, and remembering to make the right mask, well, he couldn't be bothered.
The cigarette still pinched in his fingers was dangerously low, but he didn't really notice.
"Lemon meringue pie. It's...sour. I figured since you didn't like sweets..." he said softly, carefully, watching Izumo close. It wasn't often that he didn't have some sort of mask on, so something was off. Was he sick? "You feeling alright?"
Balfour was worried. He'd never seen Izumo act like this, not even when he wasn't feeling good.
"Mmm, I'm good," Izumo answered, softly, dreamily. He reached out and poked at the pie on the plate, curiously. He blinked when some got on his finger, then tasted it curiously. Huh. Lemon-sugary, like candy.
The joint burned low and touched his fingers. Izumo didn't notice for a few moments, and even then he had to look to see what it was. "Ow," he muttered, and reached over to stub it out on the doorframe, leaving an ash-smudged streak.
Then he stuck the little nub in his pocket, nevermind that it was still hot. He looked at his fingers and then licked the blister welling up.
Balfour bit his lip when Izumo licked his finger, but then he said 'ow' and had Balfour glancing at his other hand, frowning deeply at the blister.
"I have something for burns," he said softly, fingers brushing along the back of his wrist, stepping backward, an invitation. His attention went back to the pie in his hand.
"Do you like it?"
Please let him like it.
"Mmm, yeah," Izumo answered, slowly, still looking at his burn thumb and forefinger. It hurt but he only knew that, didn't feel it. he turned his face up and smiled at Balfour. "Gonna go shower. You can come too," he decided, cheerily - but the emotion wasn't in his voice.
He nodded, wobbled, and headed off towards his room, humming faintly under his breath. He walked deliberately and slowly, reaching out to trail his hand along the wall. He liked that: it made the surface of the wall ripple and change colours. That was the best thing about PCP, the colours.
Balfour smiled back, nodding at the invitation. Who was he to deny the invitation to shower with Izumo, after all, especially when he didn't seem well. His fingers came down, hand brushing the small of Izumo's back as he walked, pie held carefully away from any possible stumbles. He was frowning still, unsure what to make of this. This wasn't Izumo.
A moments' paranoia kicked in and he frowned even more--what if this wasn't Izumo. But then he caught himself, rolling his eyes at his stupidity. Who would imitate Izumo? Why would they even bother, especially as Izumo would be pretty hard to imitate, even in one of his quiet moods.
Izumo made his way to his room without incident. He left Balfour to shut the door and started fumbling with buttons, ignoring the blisters forming on his burnt hands. Buttons were hard. He wriggled out of his shirt and scratched himself up on a senbon in his sleeve, but didn't really pay it any mind. Pants next, and he fussed with the buttons until he could flop down on the floor and peel out of them.
A little plastic baggie with a handful of small, round, brightly-coloured pills fell out of his pocket as he wrestled with the tight jeans.
Balfour closed the door when Izumo walked in, put the pie on the desk, picking up the discarded shirt and folding it, hands careful, aware of the senbon in the shirt. He'd seen Izumo put them in and pluck them out enough. He placed the folded shirt on the bed, picked up the bag of pills without really investigating, put them in the top desk drawer, and then went over to Izumo, taking the pants once they were off as well, folding them and putting them on his bed with his shirt.
He'd ask about the medicine later.
"All ready?" he asked with a sassy little smirk on his face, a hand offered to help him up.
"Socks," Izumo grunted, and peeled these off with care before he got to his feet, hands on the floor to push himself up. He wobbled, and blinked a moment before he moved off again, humming. He paused and touched Balfour's hand as he passed. "I bet the colours would be prettier with your gloves off," he mused, softly, before he headed off to the shower again.
"What colors?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and folding his clothing as he removed it and placed it on the desk chair, leaving only his underwear on the off chance that a shower with Izumo was out. Best to wait and see, after all. He followed him after a second, as soon as his pants were off and folded, thankful that he wasn't wearing socks. He never could keep them on anyway.
Izumo didn't hear the question and was already in the shower, fiddling with the knobs. He remembered just how they should be set for the water temperature - memorizing what was right was good. He stepped under the spray and stood, palms and face up to the water, humming happily. The sound and the tickly feel off pleasant in the distance and the shimmery way the water looked in the light...oh it was nice. He curled his toes and just stood there, watching. His wet bangs slid back.
He wore no henge.
Mismatched eyes took in Balfour with a sort of blank curiosity when the man came into the room, jade green and earth brown.
Balfour's heart leaped a little at the view of his eyes, a soft smile coming across his lips. Beautiful. He said nothing about them, though, just smiled at him for a moment before taking a deep breath.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked despite the fact that he'd just had a shower a few hours before. "I'd very much like to."
A thumb hooked in the band of his underpants, but he didn't pull them down, waiting patiently for the permission he sought.
"Uh-huh." Izumo cupped his hands, watched the water glisten, and giggled. "It's pretty. The shadows are wiggly."
The check-mark scar he'd shown Balfour before framed his green eye, startlingly pale in lieu of the normal dark brown.
Balfour wasted no time getting in the shower with him, hugging him briefly as he settled in behind him. The water was a bit too cold for his liking, but it was Izumo's shower.
He kept his mouth shut, silencing the word rattling around his brain. No, that was the one thing he wasn't to talk about, Izumo's right eye and his scar.
"You're acting strange," he said with a quiet little laugh, lips pressing to his shoulder. "Are you sure everything's okay?"
He'd never been around someone high before.
"It's all pretty," Izumo answered, dreamily, snuggling up against Balfour. Well, damn, couldn't get it to feel right. All distant.
"S'okay. Crash in a few hours. Damn, need some whiskey." Izumo vaguely remembered that it was important to have a drink around for...after...after what? After. He had some, yeah? No? Yeah. In the closet, under the shirts. Good stuff. "Got some maybe yeah." He turned and drew a pattern across Balfour's chest. "Oh, I like that colour."
"Oh?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around Izumo as he suddenly had a chestful of short Asian man. His fingers traced similar patterns against Izumo's waist. He was oddly flattered when he heard Izumo mention that he liked the color of the finger against his chest.
"What color?" he murmured, wondering if Izumo needed to be drinking in his state. Something to be addressed in a minute, though, when there wasn't so much wonderful, warm contact.
"Oh, bluey greenie gold," Izumo sighed, closing the distance to just lean against Balfour, watching the water and wiggling his toes and humming under his breath.
"That is pretty," he murmured, sighing quietly and relaxing against him, hand sliding down to his lower back, brushing kisses across his forehead. This was a nice shower. He could get used to this.
But he shouldn't, and he knew that, so he shifted back slightly, just enough to get Izumo's attention.
"Want me to wash your back?"
"Mmm," was Izumo's answer, quiet and vague.
Balfour nodded a little at the hum, suddenly curious about how out of it Izumo was. Testing, he dropped a kiss to his right brow, close enough to that scar that it would usually get a reaction, then drew back.
Izumo tipped his head away, a muted version of the regular flinch and recoil. "Mmmph, no," he grumbled, frowning.
Okay, so somewhat out of it, but not that out of it. He felt better when Izumo pulled away, pressing a kiss to the other side, up near his hairline. He would be okay. Maybe he was just drunk. Very drunk.
"Turn around and I'll wash your back," he said softly, more an order than a request or an offer, gently nudging his hip. "You can snuggle once you're cleaned off, okay?"
"Mmm," Izumo answered, and turned, reaching out to brace his hands against the tile, drawing patterns in the water condensation. He liked the shimmer.
Balfour ran his fingers along Izumo's spine, then gathered the soap and rag and began to wash his back, careful and thorough, his other hand, the hand that wasn't handling the rag, resting on Izumo's shoulder so that the other would know where it was. He didn't want to worry him, after all, and he was learning that no matter how much he seemed to trust him, Izumo never really would, not completely.
Ninja.
Izumo shifted his arm, puzzled - what was...oh. Blood? Hmm. It was not a colour he liked, and he used his clean hand to wipe it away.
The scratch from the senbon was bleeding freely now in the warm water, from three inches past his wrist all the way down to his elbow.
"Don't rub at it," Balfour said softly, barely able to keep his voice calm. When had he gotten scratched? Or was it a cut? "I'll bandage it in a moment, just let me wash you off first." He stepped closer, taking Izumo's hand, holding it as he investigated the scratch. It was just a scratch, at least. "Just hold it up for now," he murmured as he washed it off, then raised it up above Izumo's head, moving on to the front of his body.
"Don't hurt," Izumo protested, but mildly, tipping his head back to stare at at the lights. He swayed a little and reached out to brace himself against the wall.
"It's bleeding, so it needs to be wrapped that way it doesn't get infected," he said softly, allowing Izumo to rest against the wall. It seemed a better idea to Balfour to wash his body for him, that way he wasn't swaying or falling over. Tomorrow, if he was feeling better, he would ask what was going on here. Until then, he'd just take care of him the best he could and the best he was allowed. It didn't bother him in the least.
Soon, he was done and had tilted the showerhead so that it would rinse Izumo off.
"Come on, let's get that arm wrapped up and get you a drink. You mentioned a drink, didn't you?"
"Dunno," Izumo admitted, leaning back against Balfour, pliantly. He tipped his head against Balfour's shoulder, perfectly content to just stand there.
"Come on," he said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead again and supported him as they got out of the shower, reaching for a towel to dry Izumo's body, then settled him on the toilet to wrap a bandage around his arm, then grinned at him from where he was kneeling on the floor, fingers slipping up along his wrist. He was taking in the sight of both of his eyes, memorizing the sight that he knew he would never get to see again. After just a moment more, he stood.
"Want to sleep naked or dressed?" he asked.
Izumo moved as directed, humming again to himself, pliant and agreeable. He stared past Balfour, for the most part, in his own little world. He was fuzzy and happy and all was well.
Balfour was talking.
"Mmm?"
"Do you want to bother with clothes?" he asked when Izumo made a noise and seemed to concentrate for a moment. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He just didn't want him to be uncomfortable while sleeping.
Izumo blinked, then reached his hands up to be helped up. What kind of question was that anyway and who cared? He just wanted to sit and be still a bit but Balfour seemed to want something. So Izumo'd shut him up, there, then he could be still.
Balfour smiled at the hands, helping him up and to bed before putting Izumo's clothing on the desk on top of his own, then scooting closer and tucking him in, curling up beside him.
"Sleep now?" Sure, there had been a drink mentioned, but he really didn't feel right giving Izumo alcohol right now.
"Shhh."
Izumo snuggled up, and got good and still, humming dreamily under his breath, a small nonsense tune.
Sleep time, then. Balfour smiled softly and stroked Izumo's temple for a moment before letting his hand fall between them, his eyes closing mostly. He was content to rest there with him, silent.
It actually didn't take Izumo long to fall asleep, snuggled close.
He dreamed restlessly, twitching and murmuring softly, names and snatches of talk, the soft monotone of a sleeper.
Balfour put his hand on Izumo's waist as the other male drifted off into a restless sleep, curling up around him, sighing and allowing his body to relax. He wasn't tired, though, so he didn't fall asleep, just listened to the sleeptalk, smiling all the while.
Izumo slept the night through, slowly dropping deeper and deeper into sleep.
And then it was morning, and Izumo woke up and wished he hadn't.
"Oh fuck," he whined, and dragged a pillow over his head.
Balfour fell asleep after a while of just laying there and counting breaths, and then the next thing he knew, it was morning and Izumo was whining. He blinked awake and squeezed his hip gently.
"Whasswrong?" he whispered.
"Ow, fuck, go'way," Izumo whimpered. His head hurt and he felt sick. Sick and miserable and ugh he didn't want to be awake. He wanted to be asleep. He whimpered again, fingers clenched in the pillow over his head.
Balfour didn't move from the bed, but his hand did slide away from his hip. He propped his head up for a moment, then rolled out of bed, disappearing down the hall for all of two minutes before coming back with something for..well, almost anything. He had a small bag of rubs and poultices, not to mention a couple different kinds of tea.
"Headache?" he asked softly. Judging by the 'ow', probably. He pulled that out.
Izumo had, while Balfour was gone, crawled out of bed, found his whiskey, and crawled back in bed. He was currently nursing the bottle, curled around his pillow, eyes squinted shut. He cracked one eye open to glare at Balfour.
“Go the fuck away,” he managed, and took another sip of the straight whiskey, grimacing. He really didn’t like it straight, he loved it with lemon.
Balfour stood there a moment, tempted to turn around and walk out, but then shook his head and going about his merry way, unloading the jars and choosing one.
“Put it on your forehead,” he said, thrusting it at Izumo. “It’ll help.”
No, he didn’t seem too happy to be awake, but then it was somewhat early and he had been sick last night. Who would be happy to be awake at all, in that case?
“Fuck you, won’t help.” Izumo lifted his head and took a deeper swig of the whiskey. “Nothin’ works, the world sucks, an’ I just want to drink myself senseless an’ die.” Gods he was awful. Balfour was trying to help but nothing helped and the kid needed to go away before Izumo bit his head off. Any more than he already had, anyway. He took another drink and laid his head down.
“It might help your headache. I’ll get out of your hair once you put some on your forehead, along your temples, okay?”
He knelt by the bed.
“It’s a godsdamn hangover from being fuckin’ high last night, won’t help, don’t touch me I hurt. Gods why do I do that anymore? Fuck my head. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.” Izumo groaned and reached up to get a sip of his whiskey.
Balfour looked somewhat confused at the terminology he’d used. Either that meant sick--probably not, because the word ‘hangover’ was used--or intoxicated in some way. He was silent as he reached over to put the bottle on the bedside table and rose to write down directions for it.
“It has a numbing agent. I don’t know how it works, but it does work on hangovers, at least from alcohol. Believe me, I tried it.”
His voice was still quiet as he put the directions under the bottle and reached to tug the covers back up slightly before catching himself.
No need for that.
“Rest.”
“I was not drunk I was fuckin’ high. Gods, why? Shit-for-brains, fuck, ow. Bastard sonuvabitch,” Izumo groaned, and bit at a knuckle with his eyes shut tight.
Balfour wasn’t sure whether or not Izumo was calling him shit-for-brains or if it was someone or something else, but he backed away anyway. He really didn’t want to get on his bad side.
“Still can’t hurt to try,” he said softly, hand on the doorknob.
Izumo raised his head and glared, bi-eyes squinted nearly shut. He was pale beneath his naturally dark skin-tone, with bloodshot eyes and bags under them like bruises. There was a fever blister red and bright at the corner of his mouth, blistered and ready to scab.
“It will not work, dickwad, I done told ya. Ah, gods, don’t look like I kicked ya in the nuts, godsdamn it I suck.”
He curled back down on the pillow, pressing his face into it, one hand rising to curl in his hair. “Oooow fuck fuck fuck.”
Balfour frowned a little more, shaking his head.
“I’m just worried,” he said softly. He wasn’t upset, not really, but he was worried about Izumo’s current state of mind, his temper, and the fact that he, himself, didn’t really know what to do to help no matter how much he wanted to. He was worried because he’d been acting so insanely strange last night.
He also didn’t like that Izumo wasn’t giving his medicine a chance. It did work against hangovers. He wouldn’t fight it, though.
“Fuck. I’ll live.” This was muffled in the pillow. “I just don’t wanna right now. Oh gods.”
Izumo lifted his head and took a long pull from the bottle. He was getting tipsy and working on drunk. He’d get there but hopefully he’d pass out before he did. “Fuck.”
“Well...rest should help, right?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure. Would drinking help? Would it really help, or would it exacerbate the problem?
“Yes. Ow. Ow. Fuck.” Izumo winced and pushed his face deeper into the pillow. His eyeballs were even pounding. He was probably dehydrated as all fuck but he only wanted to pass out for a few more hours. “Gods why do I do this? Why oh fuck.”
“Because you liked it?” he suggested, his head tilting a little bit. “You seemed...so relaxed.” More than after sex. “And...amused. Your guard was down pretty badly too. I thought maybe you were sick or...or something...”
“I know better, fuck, it’s not worth it in the mornings, fuck.” Izumo raised his head and sipped the whiskey. He pointed the bottle at Balfour. “Don’t do hard drugs. Fuck, you end up like this. Godsdamn my father was right.” Izumo’s laugh was dry and bitter. “Waste of skin. Oh fuck that.”
The laugh ended in a whimper and Izumo took a long pull from the bottle.
“That’s the hangover talking,” Balfour said with a little frown, stepping closer, sitting down on the floor next to him. “You’re not a waste of skin. You’re probably the nicest guy I’ve met, and no matter how sad you think that is, it’s still true.”
He frowned, looking for more, trying to arrange the words into something he could explain.
“You’ve really...believe it or not, I feel like...like you... Ah, it doesn’t matter. You’re good for me, okay? Which means, simply, you’re not a waste of skin.”
Too many words. He went quiet, just smiling at Izumo.
“You’re a good friend.”
Izumo cracked an eye. “You’re better off knowing a rabid wolf,” he grumbled, sipping his whiskey. He was halfway through the bottle now and his words, already slurred with his accent, were slurring further.
“You’re the first person who’s wanted Balfour, not Amery, when they spend time with me. You have no idea how much that means. I still think I’m better off with you.”
He smiled softly, teasingly.
“Dangerous ninja or not.”
“Fuck you with a rusty kunai,” Izumo muttered, but without bite. In fact it was almost despondent. He sipped the whiskey again, then offered it out to Balfour. “Fuck ow ow ow. Why does everything hurt all I did was dance.....”
“I’d much rather your penis,” he said softly, quiet teasing. If Izumo hadn’t been hurting like he was, he would have touched him, nudged him teasingly. Experience told him that option was a terrible one, though. “It’s much more pleasant, after all. I suppose, if you wanted to be unconventional, you could demonstrate with that potato...”
A snicker. He was going to get slapped, but it was worth it. He was hoping to make Izumo at least roll his eyes.
Izumo glared, briefly. “The neck of this bottle if ya don’t shaddap,” he managed, and took a long pull. “Without lube.”
Balfour chuckled, taking what he could get. Sure, it was threatening, but it was also amusing and could--if Izumo had been feeling better--be taken as a tease. So that was how he took it.
“Alright, alright. Close your eyes and sleep, already.”
He slumped against the nightstand.
“Fuck.” Izumo took another long pull and put his face into his pillow. His head hurt, nothing worked, and his life was shit. Gods.
He vowed, again, that he was never going to touch drugs. Never. Again.
Balfour glanced up at him, but decided against saying anything. The more he said, the less likely Izumo was going to sleep. He wasn’t leaving him, though, no matter how much Izumo wanted him to.
It took him nearly an hour, but Izumo slept at last. His whisky bottle sagged to the side in his lax hand.
He slept hard for nearly two hours. The whiskey bottle tipped and he woke grabbing for it, steadying the bottle before even really being aware of what he was doing. He stared at the bottle, then winced. “Ow.”
Balfour rested against the night table as Izumo napped, but when he woke and winced, Balfour frowned, cursing himself silently, and reached up for it, just holding it for a second, an offer to take it from him if need be.
“Sleep well?”
“Fuck. My head.” Izumo blinked, staring blankly, then took a hard pull at the whiskey. He came up coughing. “Ow ow ow.” Hangovers sucked. He was just drunk enough but wow his head.
Balfour let go of the whiskey, shifting up to look at him again.
“Still hurt to be touched?” he asked, keeping his voice soft. It reminded him--aside from the whiskey and the language--of his sister’s bad days, of taking care of her, of being helpless no matter what because anything he did would just cause pain.
In a way, it was a bittersweet memory. He smiled at Izumo.
“What?” Izumo wanted to know, completely confused. “You....why are you....when did you get here?” He dug through his memories. He remembered...about jack shit. The taste of whiskey, his miserable head, he had no idea why he was drinking but what the hell. He was drunk and his head hurt and something told him to keep on.
Right. PCP and the colours faded grey now. Damn. He hated that.
“I spent the night,” he said softly. “And you woke up with a hangover and I didn’t feel right leaving you.”
He shouldn’t have admitted that, and he knew it. He didn’t care. Friends did that, didn’t they? Hell if he knew.
“Huh. Oh fuck. What happened to the ecstasy in my pocket?” Izumo remembered that. He winced, and took another swig of whiskey.
“Uhh...” He frowned, shrugging a little. “What is ecstasy? I mean, what does it look like? Because a bag of pills fell out and I put them in your top right drawer in your desk.”
He shrugged a bit, as if he were telling him about a pen. Whatever ecstasy was, Balfour didn’t exactly care. It was Izumo’s and what Izumo had or did, well, that was his business, not Balfour’s.
“Good. That many are worth at least a thousand grand. I’d be pissed if I’d lost them. Or given them away. Ow.” Izumo laid his head down again, relieved.
“Who would pay that much for pills?” he asked, shocked. He rubbed his face a little, shaking his head. That didn’t make any sense to him. “What are they?”
“Ecstasy. Love drug. Rave pills.” Izumo closed his eyes. “Street drugs, yeah, but softer than, say, opium or heroin. Better than weed though, way better.”
Balfour gave Izumo a very curious look, wondering what exactly was so great about a couple pills. He didn’t ask, just tilted his head at him. They were too expensive, apparently, to just be giving away. That was about all he got from that.
“I’ve never heard of any of that,” he said softly.
Izumo opened an eye. “...at least everybody I’ve talked to knows about street drugs. Damn, you really were high class shit, huh? They’re, uh, illegal drugs. People take them to get high. Like drinking, only more intense and a hell of a lot worse for you.”
“I don’t think we had any of that in my world,” he said softly, resting an elbow on the bed when Izumo opened one of his eyes, leaning a little bit closer. “Now, buying and selling antipsychotics, that was a thing. I don’t think we had heroin or weed. We had one really strong painkiller, but it was rare, came from over the mountains, the country we were at war with.”
He nodded to himself, then shrugged.
“I figure I would have heard about at least something considering the men I lived with for years.”
Then again, he pretty much kept to himself.
“There’s a market for every drug and poison under the sun to be abused,” Izumo sighed, shutting his eye again. “Ecstasy is kiddie stuff. Makes you happy.”
“Hmm, thus the name?” he asked, tilting his head at him again. Curiosity killed the cat, Izumo had said, but Balfour was a very curious guy.
He managed to not ask about it, not ask to try it. He still remembered Izumo’s reaction to him wanting to try out the genjutsu.
“Yeah. Gives me headaches from hell, all the teeth-grinding. No sex, just cuddles.” Izumo yawned, drowsy again. “Ow.” Moving was a set of aches and echoes of pain that told Izumo he’d strained something somewhere.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked softly, glancing over to the bag he’d brought, the different medicines he knew were in there.
So what he didn’t know how to make pills. He knew how to make a damn good ointment.
“Everywhere. Don’t matter,” Izumo sighed, sleepily. The whiskey in his hand sagged as he relaxed.
"Want me to put that on the table?" he asked, fingers touching the base of the bottle, supporting it where it was sagging.
“Mmmph. Mine,” Izumo mumbled, hand curling tighter around the bottle. He was half-asleep but that was his and no-one else was having it. Not even Balfour. Maybe especially not Balfour, kid was a lightweight.
“Alright. I just don’t think you want to waste it.” He didn’t push, though, just supported the base with two fingers, smiling up at him. He kept an eye on his face even as his head dropped to his shoulder, eyes glazing slightly. He hadn’t really slept yet, that much was clear.
Izumo grumbled something unintelligible as he drifted deeper into sleep.