OoM

Nov. 8th, 2010 02:39 pm
hallelujahpilot: (but there's no war here)
[personal profile] hallelujahpilot
She's drunk.

She thinks she's drunk.

No.

Stop.

She's numb and dizzy and nothing seems real and all she can taste is whiskey. Ergo, she is drunk.

She was numb. But she's reached the point of drunk where the whole 'numb' thing is starting to wear off.

Carl's room is closer, but she would have gone to his door instead of hers even if she'd had to go to the other end of Milliways.

She knocks, rests her head against the doorframe. She's wearing just shorts and a tank, and it's actually starting to be cold.

She knocks again. "Carl, you there?"

Date: 2010-11-08 06:45 am (UTC)
one_man_army: ([t] relaxed)
From: [personal profile] one_man_army
Carl smiles, just a little.

"Y'see, the flight instructor that I'd been workin' with for the last few months in the sims thought it would be hilarious, on my first run up in the cockpit, to throw me a hydraulic pressure alarm..."

(He knows she'll know how much 'fun' that kind of flight can be.)



He keeps talking until she drops off from exhaustion -- and even then, he doesn't move, just pulls the blanket up over her legs and allows his eyes to close.

"I got you."

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hallelujahpilot: (Default)
Trudy Chacon

November 2011

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