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the good news is, I get a big enough
𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙥 on my head, I can change.
I can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧. I can c͟r͟a͟w͟l͟ ͟ ͟𝗳͟𝗼͟𝗿͟𝘄͟𝗮͟𝗿͟𝗱͟.͟
written by # amalthea.
that’s what she thinks.
it’s approximately seven minutes into her movie that the phone starts ringing. and ringing. and ringing.
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yeah, me too. ( muffled coughing. ) agh … you uh, you stay there. I’m gonna go see if I have anything in the medicine cabinet.
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( still sneezing … making struggled half - sneeze sounds. ) yeah.
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steve drops in a chair across from her. his hand idly swirls the whiskey in his glass. there is a small, calm smile across his face as he regards her.
her words cause him some vague pain, slow and constant like a toothache. but the —
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perhaps it’s his soft spot for nancy that makes him worry. or maybe it’s just the memory of the last time she got so drunk, carved into the back of his mind. he masks it with playfulness.
“hey, gotcha a drink? c’mere and have a seat.”
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a wry smile forms across his face. at her comment, he pushes the door further open with his hand and uses the other —- still holding the glass —- to usher her in.
“get in here.”
head slowly swiveling to get a look at —- oh! oh, goodness. well, ignore the flash of concern on his face. for just a moment.
“nance? hey, whatcha got there?”
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<—- currently pouring himself a glass of top shelf whiskey, courtesy of mr. harrington and his neglect to lock the cabinet.
