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fourth & a half drink

"Because then you'd know the plot twists ahead of time, and we can't have that," he replied with a cheeky smile. He didn't bother stopping Abbi from trying his drink—experience was a greater teacher than admonishment. That, and her reaction was stupidly funny at this point in the night, and Jack couldn't help but cackle.

"Maybe you should slow down," he advised. But a secret was what she asked for, so of secrets he thought. He had many, most of which he still wasn't drunk enough to talk about in private, let alone in public. But he had had an interesting week so far: talking about it to someone who either would judge him and then completely forget about it because she was smashed or who wouldn't judge him at all and still probably forget seemed like a win-win situation. Not to mention getting a girl's perspective for once might be insightful.

Jack hesitated nevertheless. Talking about feelings was still not in his skill set. He wondered if maybe it was a good idea to knock back the rest of his drink so that he'd forget he was talking about it.

"I got a story, that's even better. Y'know Chelsea Craft?" he asked, leaning in so he wouldn't have to talk loud; the veneer of privacy helped. He spoke slowly for Abbi's benefit. "Four days ago on Monday, I hung out with her. She made food and we played games, but we drank too much and I ended up sleeping with her. I figured it was a mutual mistake, but she, like, asked me out. But I have a girlfriend sort of, so I said no, n' she seemed cool with that. Told me not t'be weird about it, so I tried not t'be. But I don't text her or anything for some reason, I dunno. Next thing I know, she's doing stupid s**t that lands her in the infirmary.

"She's okay," he added, though he wasn't so sure and it showed. He had a vague look about him, silently asking Abbi for advice and insight on a question he hadn't outright asked.

Third Drink

Though now would be the proper time for a moment of friendship to take place, had Jack attempted to reach a hand over toward Abbi she would have undoubtedly fled. Having already shown him her first scars at Deus, she was not looking for sympathy, at least not from him. Maybe when she had first been challenged to show them, but now that it had happened, Abbi realized she didn't want Jack's pity.
At least, she didn't think she wanted it until he did actually touch her shoulder.
The awkward pause that had stuffed itself between them was surely ignored because time had become an odd thing for the veering toward drunk teen and the pause was really what kept her on her seat.

All those angry and hurt feelings are erased, much like a bubble eradicated by a sharp pin, a moment later when Jack mentions ponies and marks.
"Cutie Marks! They're called Cutie Marks!" But she gave him a sad trombone a second later. "I-D-K... I kinda think your special talent is like... Being a butt." Which was probably the same thing as making people angry, good job drunk Abbi.

Quick to lean in to inspect his nose, Abbi blinked widened eyes at the crook, having noticed it but never thought much of it.
When she hears how he gets it, she bursts into loud laughter.
"OH THE IRONY! You love coffee, but your broke your nose on a coffee table!"

Third Drink

"So you're saying I'd be better off with a mark of an a** on my a**."

Beat.

He burst into laughter hard enough that he had to hide behind his arm and bury his face into the counter, shoulders shaking. "God, that'd be the end for me: a ******** gay pony with a ******** gay a** on his ******** a**," he snorted, grinning away. "'Where's Jack?' 'Oh, that guy? He's that green mutant over there with a double a**.'" More raucous laughter. By the time it died out, he was noticeably more red faced and relaxed.

"Yeah, yeah, my nose was very appreciative of the irony. Laugh it up. Ladies love the crooked nose," Jack asserted with an air of superiority that was broken only by his stupid grin.

Fourth & a Half Drink

There were faces made.



"Uhhhh maybe I-D-K what its like to be a guy but like... Ain't nobody gonna consent but you, bro. And FOR REALS. You're upset cause you... Cause ya had fun? Cause you... Enjoyed yourself?" Abbi was not qualified to handle these problems.
In fact, Abbi was not drunk enough to handle these problems. In any other instance she would have said 'I need a drink' but one was in front of her and she happily took it.

"You're bein' a baby. You obviously... Like her like her. Or you wouldn't be askin'... Me." An odd sort of smile turned the girl's mouth, something she tried to hide but ended up failing at miserably. "You... Ohmigosh. I bet... HA HA--" The trickle of laughter started louder than it should have to be considered a trickle. "You-- You wanted a romantic's point o'view didnja?! Oh man OH MAN." A hand is slapped over her mouth to keep the giggles in but Abbi can't. She's drunk and warm and this big lug that acts like he's the hottest thing since a toaster has presented her with his romantic woes.

"You're in waaaaaaay deeper than I thought, Hawthorn."

Fourth & a Half Drink

Jack's response to all of that was a long series of unintelligible grumbles and low growls as well as a glower.

"I want a lady's point've view. Not interested in ********' romance," he groused. "Just don't wanna ******** up a friendship alright? I don't got many've those."

Fourth & A Half Drink

All through out the grumbles and growls, of which Abbi felt in her delusion state of drinking perfectly adequate at interpreting. Except she forgot them as soon as she'd figured out what they meant, instead placidly waiting for Jack to finish. While he rumbled, the girl folded her hands under her chin and blinked blue eyes at him.

Oh. He was done. Good.

A finger whipped out to point across the table at him, ginger eyebrows drawn down as though that would make Abbi look authoritative.
"A) Ya got lotsa friends, you just like to pretend you don't... Huh, know somebody else who does that. Anyways. B! You ain't named your--" A seriously sloppy pair of bunny air-quotes came out at this point, "--'girlfriend' and who knows maybe I know her. Know a lotta people Jack. Almost Shadow Broker-like yo. N-E-WAYS. C) Obvi... Obvi obvi You're worried about Chel. And now I am too. I'll have ta see her tomorrow... The next day... But the most important part..." And here the girl stops her dramatic motions, her hands pull in closer to herself, are stuffed under the table and under her thighs so she won't be tempted to gesticulate.

Abbi's head turns down a bit, her bangs dipped over her eyes for a moment as she collects her thoughts. There is the need to say this perfectly, to make sure this moment hits as well as she wants because it is something asks herself nearly everyday. Never has Abbi been in the situation of ruining a friendship that wasn't already doomed from the beginning, she has never had feelings enough for a person to get tangled enough to trip on to ruin the other person. Everyone's walked away, so no one got hurt but her.
But Jack sits before her prepared to hurt and get hurt and somehow through her haze Abbi realizing he's asking how to avoid that.
"Why do you think you're gonna ******** it up?"

Fourth & a Half Drink

The way Abbi behaved told him she wasn't drunk enough for him to be spilling his guts. Then he had to ask himself why he thought someone had to be drunk to give him good advice. Then he had to ask why Abbi.

Then he had to think, You really don't know what you're doing here, do you.

And he didn't. Keeping friendships had never mattered before, not when there was school and work and a s**t ton of alcohol to make him neglect it, not when there used to be space he could use to keep them at bay. He'd deluded himself by thinking that could still apply when you eat, sleep, and die next to people you can see practically twenty-four seven if they're not out on a mission or outpost. It was impossible to stay that impassive, not without being soulless and completely committed to his own cause--both things he had apparently been wrong in. Just slightly. Not enough to completely compromise, but enough to cause a certain itch to get scratched when he slept with Chel, an itch which now he felt again the more he talked about it.

God, it was like he was picking at scabs again, ripping them open and never letting them heal. Picking at scabs drunk? He really had no clue at all.

Hopefully Abbi wouldn't remember anything.

"Hanna Nowicki, Death trainee and fellow coffee lover. That's my girlfriend," Jack replied, his eyes distantly contemplating Abbi's forehead. "But yeah, go visit her. Craft, I mean. Y'can visit Hanna too, I don't care." He didn't. He didn't. He didn't. "She's cool people. Like me, but with boobs. Craft might like the company."

He didn't care, he didn't, but he also cared ******** alcohol.)

"I know I will," he muttered, suddenly sounding like a fifteen year old who thinks he's world weary already. "I just do."

Fourth & A Half

A lemon face was made to hear this other girl's name, not because Abbi knew her or had even heard of her before now, but simply because... Well... Actually, she couldn't remember why other than she didn't like the girl. Or, at least, didn't want to like her, which was a very clear distinction to make.
She was someone other, someone the girl didn't know.
And if she was basically Jack with boobs she sounded kind of dreadful.
"I dun wanna see your girlfriend. Dunno her." And in her drunken haze the teen had decided she was not good people.

"Wanna see Chel." Man, she was starting to feel really sluggish. But no, no she had to tell Jack about the importance of love n'friendships and how cute Chel was and...
"You know nothing, Jack Hawthornnn..." Hhhmmmm yes another drink would help. So Abbi took another gulp and plopped the nearly empty mug onto the table.
"Ye gotta... Ye gotta take a chance on the one that... Yer thinkin' bout a lot. Cause if ye don't... Someone else will and you'll kick yerself for nah... For not doin' it."

Abbi paused to blink Jack back into focus.
"For not takin' the chance not... Um... Kickin' yourself." Yeah...
"'Sides. What about True Love?"