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It had taken several weeks to get over his injuries, but Robert Banks had managed to find solace in one of the things he knew best - alcohol.

Alcohol didn't give lip. Alcohol didn't complain, it didn't sass, it didn't do anything aside from provide the comforting, wonderful burn that rested in his belly as he ignored the leftovers in the fridge he'd debated on gnawing at.

Whiskey, in his opinion, tasted far better than reheated Chow Mein.

Still, the biggest problem when it came to alcohol was that there was, inevitably, never, never enough.

Which led him to his current conundrum - the fact he could lift his collection of bottles up and see straight to the bottom. When had he managed to drink himself absolutely dry? Had he finished the rum off last night or the night before? And the vodka???

s**t.

Flipping his phone out, eyebrows furrowed as he punched through to his Contact list. It wasn't long by any means - all of his work numbers went to his work phone, after all - but the few that were on it were important enough to bother with this particular issue.

One of the first on the lists, under that faithful B, was none other than sweet, loyal Bellatrix. He hadn't been exactly gentlemanly when it came to calling her back after their last date but... now was as good a time as any to play catch up, right?

Clicking the name, he shot off a text, doing his best to focus on typing correctly.

[To Bella: what are you up to, tonight?]
[To Bella: Feel like grabbing a bottle and coming by to visit your favorite lawyer?]

He'd almost given up hope, staring bleakly at the phone for a few minutes before hanging his head back on the arm of the couch as he debated his next move. Thankfully, he didn't have to do much thinking, the phone in his lap soon coming to life with several buzzes.

Plucking it up, he slid his thumb over the screen and grinned. Alright, that was fair -

[To Bella: It's easy to get caught up in the dreadfully exciting world of wills and appeals]

[To Bella: In fact, mine got so exciting that I'm laid up on the couch with two horribly wounded feet. Maybe I was the poor dancer?]

He scrolled through his emoji options, accidentally sending random ones as he attempted to send one of the dancer ones he could have sworn he'd seen befo---yes, there!

[To Bella: I noticed the lack of answer, btw]

Chinese was always an option to offer. Was adding food into the mix a form of bribery or more of a barter system?

Hmmm.....

A few more pings were tossed in his direction, Rob grinning as he seemed to be winning her over - somehow. Maybe he needed to act more pitiful in the future, was that a soft spot for women? Men in need?

Then as the final text message ding hit his phone, he frowned. s**t. Maybe it's time for the bribery-slash-barter offer to be tossed into place.

[To Bella: Buzzed, proper term is BUZZED. ]
[To Bella: And enough to know I shouldn't be going out to meet you ]
[To Bella: Not that I can, with these feet ]

Yeah, yeah. Play up the hurt foot thing - that had to do some to help, right?

Adjusting himself up on the couch, he glanced around and realized he probably needed to get up on his sore feet and clean up around the place. Empty bottles, half-eaten takeout cartons - this place needed a bit of tidying up from his usual cleanliness if he was going to have booze-toting company over.

[To Bella: Got Netflix AND Hulu. How bout them apples? ]

[To Bella: Also pizza, if you play your cards nice ]


Pause.

[To Bella: Booze has seemed to have run dry. I blame the cat, personally. ]

By the time Bella had arrived to the door, Rob had managed to clean off the top of both the coffee table and the breakfast bar, shoving all the former food containers and empty bottles into an empty trash bag before depositing said trash bag out by the back door (and out of direct view, of course).

He felt more like 60 instead of 30...whatever he was.... from the way he was forced to hobble around the house. While the open wounds on his feet had healed, the ache and the soreness of it all still lingered. Whenever the sole of his foot hit the ground, his face made an expression to echo the sentiment of owwwww.

As the door knocked, he glanced up and ambled towards the front door. A low, knowing mrowwwwww called out to him from halfway up the nearby staircase - good old Bob, useless and mouthy as always.

Why did he bother keeping a cat around, again?

Oh right.

It always came back.

Sighing to himself, he shook his head as the door opened, the grimace from his feet slowly curling into a grin as he saw both babe and bottle at the door.

"Bella! Please, come on in, it's freezing out there --"

Not that he'd been out to notice, really.

Ushering the young woman in, he tossed a glare at the cat as if to say be on your best behavior, buddy before closing the door and following after his new houseguest.

"Who, Bob?"

Hazel eyes glanced over towards the furry hellion, who stared back at both of them with a knowing look. What exactly he knew, no one could guess - sometimes it got creepy, though, the way it almost seemed like the overgrown furball was sentient about things.

Rob didn't like to think about that too much, especially when he was trying to enjoy his buzz.

"This is perfect, you're an angel," he announced, taking hold of the offered bag and leaning forward to offer her a half hug - or as much as one could hug while carrying bottles upon bottles worth of future inebriation. "I didn't know what you wanted, don't hurt me - it's not ordered yet. Bob, show the lady around, will you?"

The playful call out to the cat seemed to draw its attention away from the bag, narrowed eyes watching the contents as they clinked together in Rob's arms. As the sloshed man hobbled his way towards the kitchen, the large Mauvian descended the staircase and seemed to hesitate on the bottom step, as if trying to decide between following the alcohol and checking out the babe who'd just walked through the door with the new supply of booze.

Opting for the latter, the large feline let out a long purr before taking it upon himself to rub his hairy, orange self all over the bottom of her legs.

"Got any problem with a supreme?" A voice called out from the kitchen, the sound of a can popping open following shortly afterwards.

"What?" The sound of a second beer can opening hissed in the background before the lawyer reappeared from the depths of the kitchen. He looked a little more bewildered than usual, but it wasn't a hard state to obtain with the way his dress shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons undone. There was no sign of a tie - but then again, it could very well have made it onto the cat, who wore one proudly around its furry neck.

The orange beast accepted the pets, quickly demanding more as he scaled the nearby couch and let out a low mrowwww, beckoning the newcomer over to where he lounged.

Rob gave the cat a dismissive look as he tried to make sense of the sneezing woman's words. Wait... she didn't want Bob around?

Wait - allergic?

One hand extended out to offer her one of the beers. "s**t, I'm sorry Bella." His head turned towards the cat and he ordered more aggressively, "Bob. Scram."

Bob, on the other hand, simply stared, his gaze shifting over towards the can in his "master's" hand.

"Now.."

Rising from the couch, the feline ambled its way to the opposite end, further away from the man making demands of him, only to plop his butt down and narrow green eyes in defiance.

Drawing the beer up to his mouth, Rob knocked back half of the can as he prepared himself for an inevitable wrestling match with a twenty-two pound cat.

"No - hang on Bella, I've got this, okay?"

In a context that would have made the internet proud with his hold my beer expression, the dark haired man offered his quarter-empty can over to the young, watery-eyed woman before shoving up his sleeves even further than they'd already been shoved. "It'll just be a minute, I'll toss him out. Furry little b*****d doesn't listen, furry b*****d gets the boot."

As if understanding what his "master" was saying, the large feline arched his back and rose back to his feet, offering a low rrrrrrrrrrrr on top of a hissing sound the closer that Rob approached him.

It was a battle of strength - intoxicated, stubborn man versus angry, stubborn cat.

With a deep breath, Rob braced his legs and then proceeded to jump towards the cat, who made efforts to dash back across the couch and away from the nutter that was pursuing him. Being fat had its disadvantages, however, Bob soon finding his back haunches now captured by the firm grip of slender, pale fingers.

The cat let out a long yowl and Rob looked absolutely pleased as punch as he righted himself from off the couch, dragging the heavy beast backwards with the pull. So happy, in fact, that he hadn't calculated what would happen when the captured feline would realize he'd been snagged.

Turning around, claws extended themselves and began combating against the tall, lanky man, who'd left his arms exposed by rolling up his sleeves. Quick to stumble backwards, cat still in hand, he quickly turned his head in a paltry attempt to shield his face from the flying fur and claws that continued to smack at him, accompanied by angry hisses.

Eyes opened as he tried to figure out the best escape route, then landed on the front door.

"The door, Bella - get the door - please!"

"Of course you're worth wrestlin' a cat for - that's like, top honor or something, right?"

At least, it sounded reasonable in his head. Whether or not it actually looked reasonable was another story. He was pretty sure that toting around a twenty-something pound cat made him look a little more than ridiculous but a man had to do what a man had to do when it came to pleasing his date for the evening - inebriated or not.

With a yowl the orange cat was tossed out, green eyes glaring a promise of peed on shoes or torn up drapes... something he'd probably have to deal with on a later date, surely. Still, the door was closed with the cat on the other side of it and the lawyer grinned as he turned back to Bella.

One hand reached out and plucked the beer back from her, raising it up in mock salute as he nodded. "To us, to beer."

And they drank to both.

And they drank a lot.