Who: Kirley Duke. When: 2nd March, mid afternoon. Where: An apartment that isn't his own... What: Stand alone post, the afternoon after the night before. Rating: Medium/High? (possible trigger - mentions of substance abuse)
Waking in a strange place was nothing new for Kirley. When the band toured without their bus he'd often sleep in different hotel rooms every night. Though this time he wasn't in a hotel and he wasn't alone. The guitarist came to face down on the bed in an unfamiliar room; the blanket beneath him was soft, artificial fleece in a vibrant purple hue and had at least managed to keep him warm while he was unconscious. Though the woman curled against his side could also have helped in the temperature department. Panicking slightly, he squirmed away from her until there was a few inches space between them and he could see her face more clearly. She was younger than him, he guessed, pretty, but definitely not his type.
Taking a moment, he ran through the essential checklist he kept in his mind for such occasions, am I clothed, am I hurt, am I sober, and am I safe? As far as he could tell he was safe, uninjured and fully clothed, much to his relief. At least he didn’t need to add sex to his list of things he might have done the night before. The Scot’s sobriety was debatable as he had a big black space in his memory where the previous night should have been. Rolling onto his back, he groaned as his spine protested and fidgeted vainly to get comfortable in this new position. Hazy green eyes took in his surroundings as he tried to piece together what had happened in the past 24 hours. The last thing he could remember clearly had been leaving work and deciding not to go back to the tower.
Recently the high rise had felt more isolated to him, despite the fact it was in New York, he felt segregated from the outside world once he was inside. Back home his house was in a terrace, he had neighbours who knew him and a garden he could sit in to smoke. He had a local where he went to drink and a safe place to indulge in his less than legal habit. So this past month he’d taken to wandering after dark in the city that never took time off. He’d found the less frequented clubs that had back rooms for creatures just like him who were looking for something more, while they lost themselves to line after line of coke.
Pushing himself up into a seated position, he wiped a hand over his face, trying to rid himself of the hopeless feeling that had a hold on his brain. His nose felt raw and he could only guess the amount of snow he’d snorted. Carefully he climbed off the bed and collected his jacket and shoes from the floor, pulling them on quickly and escaping the apartment. He felt guilty about leaving without saying anything, but really he had nothing to say. Kirley couldn’t even remember the girl’s name or how he had ended up in her bed. Closing his eyes, he pulled himself together enough to draw a clear image of his own bed, back at the Tower into his mind and then apparated.