With a soft sigh Opie made himself comfortable sitting up on the roof of the clubhouse, a cigarette in one hand and his cell in the other that pressed it to his ear the large man knew he was in for a long night especially when it came to an intoxicated Ryan.
“Make sure you drink some water before you fall asleep, I don’t wanna deal with your hungover ass in the mornin’”
He took a moment to take a deep drag from the cigarette perched between his thumb and index finger, letting the smoke invade his throat and lungs before exhaling through his nose. Opie was also aware that this would most definitely be a one-sided conversation but placating her drunken self was definitely the way to go; previous encounters usually had his cell inundated with numerous voicemail messages calling him a ‘butt head’.
Drunken hiccups began to lace around the receiver that was sloppily placed to her lips.
❛ O-Opie. ❜ She slurred softly, her free hand reaching up to cover her eyes in an attempt to block out whatever light she forgot to turn off when she stumbled into her room.
❛ I didn’t – I did – not even drink that much. ❜
( That was a lie. And she knew it. )
A few breathy giggles played against her cell, cheek pressing so close to the screen that buttons began to chirp causing her to whisper a few choice words under her breath. ❛ Who let me drink that much? ❜
First step to fixing the problem was admitting it – right??
A slender physique pressed against the frame of the door as bright emerald hues danced across the figure hastily draped over the mattress. Her bottom lip catching in her teeth to put the smile that threatened to crease her features at bay. Lowering her eyes to the floor, a h i n t of laughter escaped her as her golden mane hid her expression.
"Make yourself at home.“
Clearly Rat had already done so – her words just a ploy to fill the quiet air. S i l e n c e had never really been thing.
The prospect had been couch surfing for a while, and apparently it was now Ryan’s turn to offer one to surf on – or in this case, her bed.
Even though her reactions displayed differently, Ryan had no complaints. [ Absolutely none ]
Lengthy legs took a casual stride to the opposite side of the bed, crawling up into her little nook on hands and knees, laughter threatening to shake her frame at any moment.
❝
Hope you weren’t planning on wearing the pants tonight. ——-Big spoon is kinda my thing. ❞
It was quiet – too quiet, especially for Ryan. Her expression a twisted combination of determination and frustration. Slender digits working furiously at the wound; one hand to dab at dried blood, and the other to dig deep in search of the shell. The clubhouse was vacant, nothing but the soundof her aggravated huffs to bounce off the photo-cluttered walls.
[ She was pissedto say the very least ]
ClearlyWinston had gone out and done exactly what she warned him not to do – to be honest he never really listened, but that didn’t mean
She wouldn’t T R Y.
Sure,Donna was dead but that didn’t give the big oaf an excuse to think even less than usual…
[ Okay, maybe it did, but still]
Impatience had found a home in Ryan, whether it was the anger that continued to build over the situation, or maybe it was the fact that she just couldn’t find that goddamn bullet – W A I T – got it.
The musical clang of metal hitting the tin atop of her knee was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tossing the tweezers to the side with some force, she knocked the bowl from her lap and flailed her arms in the air to emphasize the irritated expression that had finally found a way to crease her delicate features.
❝ You’re a F U C K I N G moron, Ope. ——-But y'already knew that, didn’t you? ❞
