2019-05-30 - Whatever, Percocet Is Fun

Since it just doesn't seem possible to gloss over the intervening six days as 'lol life as usual' after the last time these two were on-camera, we're just rolling back the clock here to May 30th. Last night, Graham got punched in the face, and Elise drugged him, and they managed to pass the fuck out at some point. If Elise was supposed to go to work, that sucks, because Graham punches any alarm clocks that go off, smash smash smash, without officially waking up. Drugs are awesome like that. If she left anyway? Well, whatever. He's dead to the world.

Until he's not.

Eventually, the last of the Percocet wears off, and he opens his eyes, and he asks the world at large to, "Just fucking shoot me," in a croaky, pinched, pained voice. He lays somewhere around the middle of Elise's bead and stares at the ceiling, wishing it would crash down on him and smash him and kill him dead.

It was a really difficult night for Elise, because she felt half obligated to stay up and make sure he didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night, but also because he was in her bed and she hadn't had a dude in her bed for awhile. A long while. And she never had a Graham in her bed, which made things all the more complicated. Especially when he, in his drug-addled state, kept pawing at her. But after the fiftieth round of 'stop touching me, Graham, seriously stop touching me, just go the fuck to sleep!', Elise decided it was best if she also took a couple of Percocets and pass the fuck out. Which is exactly what she did.

It was a very good thing she didn't have to go to work until later in the day .. probably after she got picked up to tend to Lorenzo (and possibly the dude that shot his ball off too?). Which meant she was free to sleep in past the alarm, and get violently woken up by Graham's bitching and complaining. "Huhwha?" she blinks her eyes open, swipes some drool off her face (vry sxy) and sits up suddenly, groggily, trying to get the blur to fade as she squints at him. "Are you dying?"

By the time Elise took her drugs, Graham was so far out of it that he has no recollection of that even happening. Which is why he's not cool about just waking her the fuck up with his bitching, cuz he doesn't know she's also sleeping the deep sleep of opium-derivatives. "God, I fucking wish," is his woe-is-me answer, put while he drags his dead arm out from under her back, lifting his pins-and-needles fingers to touch the side of his cheekbone, ever so gingerly. There's another eloquent, "Fuuuuuuck," breathed from that touch, and he sags back into the pillow, making sad little ow-noises.

"Seriously. I need either a bullet or more pills." He fumbles his way out of the bed, falling off the side, feeling around the floor for his jeans. There are no pills in his pants, but he probably brought that gun up here at some point last night, so we can assume he's looking for that. To put himself out of his misery.

Elise will feel sorry for Graham in a sec. Right now, she's feeling really sorry for herself, a mournful look cast over her shoulder and back to the pillow which was so good to her. She winces her eyes shut while he complains, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're fine," she insists, and then reopens her eyes to actually look at him. And, well, she doesn't exactly recoil back, but that freckled nose of hers gets all wrinkly. "Oh, wow. Shit. That looks really bad actually." She starts to reach for him when he rolls himself right off the bed, and she crawls to the edge of it to lean over and peer down at him.

"I should probably take you to the hospital," she's not stopping him for trying to find his gun. At least she knows that he'll deny the trip to the ER, so she amends: "But we should probably change the bandage and you should let me splint it. I don't think you need any nasal packing but.." But she's not a doctor. She blink-blinks at him, there on the floor. "If you end up shooting yourself, can you make sure you don't miss? Because I don't want to take care of you if you're brain damaged and constantly drooling from the mouth." Beat. "Anymore than you already do."

"Goddamn, you're just all over the board this morning." Afternoon? Graham's not in any position to judge time, even if there might be actual sunlight coming into the bedroom right now. "Fine. Hospital. Shoot yourself." He drags the too-heavy pants into his lap, scooting so he can sit with his back against the wall and let it prop him up some, feet kicked out so they disappear under the bed. Thankfully, Mew-Mew hasn't kenned to the fact that people are awake yay!!! just yet, so he's not being attacked.

"You want me to do it in the shower?" He means shoot himself, look, he found his gun! "Easy clean-up. Or can you just give me more pills, please? Promise to limit the drooling to your pillow, since it's already fucking covered in slobber."

Elise wriggles until she's down on her stomach sideways across the mattress, elbows up and chin propped. "You should go to the hospital. But I know you're not going to go there willingly," she points out, brown eyes darkening as he pulls the gun from his pants. The displeasure is evident, written all over that barely awake face of hers. "If you're going to go out, I'd prefer it if you took a couple of those assholes at the club out with you? So..." A bit of dark humor is a good way to start the morning, although it's fairly evident that she was at least partially serious. Either way?

"The pills are right there," she extends a finger, pointing to the end table on the side of the bed he slept on. The cap was already off; she forgot to put the bottle back together last night. "You should probably take them instead of killing yourself. I'd probably miss you if you were gone."

Yes, dark humor. "Baby, your whole job in this organization is to make sure guys like me don't have to go to the hospital. This is practice." If it's any consolation for her, the smirky smile that Graham tries to where while he says that hurts his face, and it slips with a twinge at the corners of his eyes. At least he doesn't just point the gun all over the place, just holds it limply in one hand for a minute and then slides it onto Elise's nightstand. But seriously, "You should keep this. Just don't get caught with it." LIKE IT'S JUST THAT EASY!

Fair trade; he gives her a gun, she gives him the pills, the bottle of which he catches with his index finger and drags on over in front of him. "Aww, you set my heart a-flutter, Ellybean. Like eleven of these should do me?" He dumps all of them into the cup of his palm, counts under his breath, one two three four five six...

Elise's eyes track the movement of the gun, from the limp way he holds it in his hand all the way to where it comes to rest on her end table. She holds her focus there for another few seconds, lips bowing down into a frown. "What am I going to do with a gun? I don't even know the first thing about using one," she admits, narrowing a look back to him. The point about her 'job in this organization' gets tucked away; that is about the very last thing she wants to think about.

Besides, apparently she has to keep him from killing himself. With a heavy sigh, she tucks herself into a roll to get onto her back and sits up, twisting to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. "One," she says firmly, while getting off the bed and down onto her knees, sidling up beside him. She plucks two-three-four-five-and-six off the palm of his hand and plunks them right back down into the bottle, before she folds his fingers over 'one'. "Take one. See how you feel in an hour. If you still want to kill yourself? I'll let you have another. But you have to let me take the bandages off and splint your nose, Graham, and it's going to feel.." her brows tick forward into a furrow, and she leans to kiss the side of his mouth, as though this will somehow make her next words more palatable. "Very unpleasant."

"It's not hard." Using the gun. Graham eyes it sideways for a second and leaves it sitting there. "Aim and pull the trigger. I'll show you the rest sometime." He waves vaguely at it, then mumbles something about one pill plus ten other pills, making a small, frustrated sound when she takes all the rest of the pills from him. He very aldultishly sticks his tongue out at her, dabs the one pill she left him with onto the end of his tongue, retracts his tongue, and swallows that pill down dry, willing to suffer the bitter taste just to get relief in his veins. "If it's gonna feel unpleasant, shouldn't I get the two pills right out of the gate? Yanno, to take the edge off and minimize the risk of me punching you in the face in response?"

Graham tongue tongue tongue, tongue tongue tongue tongue tongue.

yw

There's another quick glance to the gun as she leans to put the bottle of pills beside it. Percocets and handguns, such a lovely pairing. "Show me later. When you're not feeling like putting the gun in your mouth and ending it all," she murmurs, sitting back on her haunches to roll her eyes when he sticks his tongue out at her. She sticks her tongue right back out at him, THERE! "Nope. One pill now, another later. If you're good. If you punch me in the face instead?" she wags her finger at him, and starts to climb to her feet. "No more pills for you. Come along," she holds her hand down to him, wiggling her fingers in a coaxing manner. "Let's do it in the bathroom. Less of a chance of getting blood on anything important."

Graham's head hurts. Please cut him some slack for being a complainy bastard and making comments like, "If I punch you in the face, the next thing I do is gonna be to take all the pills and run." The next thing he'd do would be to stop and cry because running with a horrible headache is just a stupid idea, Graham. But he takes her hand, letting her 14-pound-person help heft his not-14-pound-person to his feet, with the help of the wall, since he slides his back up that and braces himself against it with his empty hand. Once upright, he needs a minute, head swimming, and his palm flattens against the wall on the one side, the other one squeezing hard against Elise's fingers on the other.

He breathes. Through his mouth. Then nods very slowly. "A'ight. Bathroom. So I don't get blood on anything important." Beat. "Other than myself."

"You're so sweet to me, Graham," Elise practically purrs the words, really hamming up those hearts in the eyes that she puts there just for him~ .. and then promptly rolls those same eyes, and lets him use her and the wall as leverage to pull himself up to his feet. She didn't do a lot of work here, considering she's a 14-pound-person and he's fat. "There. I bet you feel better already," she plasters on her best nurse smile, turns, and immediately trots out of the bedroom. But not before grabbing the bottle of pills first and tucking it into the waistband of her leggings, because she doesn't fucking trust him.

"Let's go!" she declares, heading out into the hall and straight into the bathroom, where she begins to rummage for the stuff she'll need to make his booboos all better.

ngl, glanced at that pose and read 'booboos' as 'boobs' and was like... well, that changes the whole tenor of this scene.

Probably the only reason Graham is going anywhere (other than right back to bed) is that Elise just took all the pills. And he thinks there's a small chance that, after stumbling a couple steps to keep up with her charging right out of the room and dumping his weight across her shoulders with the lay of his arm and the leeeeeaning on her, he thinks he can steal them back. He fingertips the bottle, wriggles it loose, saying, "I don't know how your patients don't just choke you sometimes." And then fumbles the bottle, and it clatters to the hallway floor, noisily scattering pills all over. "And now you're just being wasteful."

Elise can't make Graham's boobs all better. But maybe she could make his booboos all better with boobs? Who knows. Graham's probably never going to find out the answer to that question, what with his slinging his arm around her with every intention of stealing that pill bottle out from the waist of her leggings. "Most of my patients are too busy not dying to try and choke me," she offers him a brilliant smile that promptly dies when she feels his wiggling fingers. And then the bottle clatters to the floor, spilling pills everywhere. "God dammit, Graham," she reaches to smack his hand like he's a naughty child and peels away from him in order to go in the direction of where the pills went flying. "Get into the bathroom and take your own stupid bandages off. I'll be there in a sec," she grumbles, and starts the hunt for the pills. "If Mew-Mew gets a hold of these and she gets sick, I'm going to make you suffer."

"Yeah? You thinking you might... punch me in the face? 'Cause you're gonna have a tough act to follow on that one." Graham helpfully picks up one of the pills with his toes, though the act of lifting his foot up high enough to drop the pill into his palm makes him cringe with the ouch. But here, he drops the pill into Elise's hand and leaves her to clean up the mess he made (SO MUCH METAPHOR).

Slumping into the bathroom, he can be heard to first go, "Holy shit!" Guess who just saw his own reflection. 😃 Then grouse and gripe and go 'ow' and 'ouch' while he tries to gingerly peel back the medical tape and what-not. By the time Elise gets there, he's just going to be sitting on the lid of the toilet, half-unbandaged. "Help, please."

"I might just find Andre's number and invite him over to punch you in the face again. Or maybe your dick this time," mumbles back Elise, though there's not a whole of actual heat behind the words. Even if there should be, considering this is not the first, second, third .. or last .. time that she'll be cleaning up one of his messes. But the pills go back into the bottle one by one, and once she's satisfied that she's found them all and Mew-Mew won't accidentally eat one? She hides the bottle in the towel closet, way in the back. Fuck you, Graham.

Then down the hall she goes, prepared to bitch at him for using his feet to pick up pills - which, by the way, she has his foot pill cradled in the palm of her hand - but she stops short when she sees his face. Her shoulders slump, and whatever fight she has in her goes away immediately. "You look so pathetic," she murmurs, and manages to say it oh-so-adoringly, as she comes to stand in front of him. The foot pill is set on the sink, incentive for later, as she cradles his face in her hands. "Are you going to be good now? Stay very still."

At least she can be very careful as she goes about peeling the rest of the tape from his poor ruined nose.

"Soon as we're done in here, I'll send you his number. You oughta have it, really. All this aside?" Graham gestures to his half-bandaged and badly bruised face. "He's a good guy to know. He coulda fucked me up way worse." No delusions of grandeur about him vs Andre.

He sits very still after that, except to answer a quick, "Yes," for being good. There's a good bit of hissing in across his teeth when she peels at the tape, and his eyes look very sad and hurry through this process. He also balls up his fists where they rest on his knees, but no punching happens. So that's nice. "Rethinking this whole 'Elise hearts Graham' thing yet? Now that I'm not so unfairly pretty?"

"Fine. But only as long as this isn't another attempt to get me to go out on a date with him. I don't really date old guys," at least she didn't say black guys? Elise presses her lips together in concentration as she works the bandages off of his face, dropping them into the trash once she's done. Then she leans back, gentle with her fingers as she tips his chin up so that she can see the angle of his nose in the dim yellow glow of the bathroom light.

"I'm sorry, what?" she blinks, brows climbing at his question. "This whole ... 'Elise hearts Graham' thing? Funny. Last night, it sounded pretty fucking mutual." Excuse her while she glares in his general direction, while smacking her hand against the medicine cabinet and reaching in for bandages. "And I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? Like, took a really hard look?" she says this after she leans back to stand in front of him, tipping his chin up again so that he turns his face up to hers. "You're still incredibly pretty. And I think it's even more unfair because you should look like a beast right now."

No more is said about Andre + Elise. Those two can work that out between them as far as Graham's concerned. "Did it?" he asks of mutual. "That might've been the concussion talking, though." It's hard to have hearts in one's eyes while one's eyes are clouded with bruises, but give the guy credit; he puts a few in there while looking up at her with his chin held in place. "Before you get back to brutalizing me. Which I feel like you're enjoying more than you should, by the way." He peels one of her hands away, presses it between both of his own, and says earnestly, "I'm so fucking sorry for all this, El. There've been a lotta times I thought I should tell you that I love you and I need you. I shoulda done it before it came to this."

The 'did it?' makes her falter, her fingers slipping on his chin. And though he manages to find some hearts for his eyes immediately thereafter? It does nothing to shake the doubt that rolls through her and clouds the hearts in her own dark gaze. "Didn't you know? The best nurses are secretly sadists," she murmurs about deriving pleasure from his pain; though, the reality is, she's probably far more likely a masochist, considering she's still standing here. But then he does the unexpected and sandwiches her hand between his own and out come words that make her lashes flutter rapidly. She breathes out and pulls her hand from his - but really so that she could easily climb onto his lap. Thank goodness she only weighs about 14 pounds, else the toilet might protest. "It's not all on you, G. There was a lot of opportunity for me to say something, too. I should've said something. But I just thought.." she frowns, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. This is where we are now."

With a small shake of his head - since a big one would just hurt too much - Graham says gently, "No, baby. You threw me a couple inside straights lately, and I folded anyway." He tucks one arm across her, pulling on her knees a little so she's not so liable to slump off the edge of his lap. And land on the bathroom floor. And probably brain herself on the bathtub. Because that's what would happen, there's no doubt in his mind. The other hand lifts, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear, and then he caaaaarefully pushes a kiss against her cheek with only a little narrow at the edges of his eyes. (God bless Percocet.) "You're right. It doesn't matter. But I'll listen if you wanna tell me. I won't even try to be clever at you, scout's honor."

"Yeah. I did. And you did," there was no point in arguing the facts, but there was also no point in dwelling on what happened. So Elise makes that quiet murmur of agreement and makes like Elsa and lets it go, while he adjusts her knees and she assists with a careful wiggle of her rear against his leg, sliding to sit as high up on his lap that she could go, so that she doesn't cover the bathtub with her brains. Maybe she sees the narrowing of his eyes in her peripheral as he leans to plant a kiss there to her cheek, because she responds by reaching behind her and blindly fingering the pill she left on the sink.

"I don't know what to tell you anymore," she admits, lifting the pill up and touching it to his lips. Medicinal kiss, pucker up! "Because I feel like a fucking idiot, and I want to hit you and kiss you and.." she leans, nudging her nose against the side of his chin, "And I'm really.. I'm really scared, Graham. About what's going to happen next."

Graham takes the pill like a champ, no complaining about how it tastes gross, just tucks it right passed his lips and swallows hard to get it down dry, ick. "Why do you feel like an idiot? I mean, I get it - putting yourself out there and not knowing if it's coming back, but that was just," a breath, "trying to keep you out of all this." Which totally worked awesome, G, way to go! The nose-nudge pulls a partial smile on that side of his mouth, anyway, and he shifts to smooth a hand down her hair. Carefully, 'cause apparently these two scuzzbuckets haven't done anything morning-normal like comb hair.

"What happens next with... Felix? It's okay be scared, you get used to it, just do your part. And everything'll be fine." He is not especially convincing today, alas.

Hey now, Elise is not a scuzzbucket. Nor is her hair full of mats; she's got that silky Asian hair that somehow always looks great. Fucking bitch.

Anyway. "I mean.. yeah. That," Elise remarks with a wrinkle of her freckled nose when he asks her why she feels like an idiot .. and then immediately answers his own question. As for his lying, she just rolls her eyes; at some point, they are going to roll out of her head and go splat! right on the bathroom tiles. "You don't believe that," she says with just a hint of a challenge to the words. Prove her wrong, go on. "If you believed that, you wouldn't have.. tried so hard to keep me out of all of this. If you believed that? You wouldn't have.. said all the things you said last night. You're still pushing when I want to pull, Graham," she bites at the corner of her bottom lip, lifting her dark eyes to his. There is a whole lot more she wants to say, it's practically right there on the tip of her tongue.

But instead, she frowns, and focuses not on his eyes but on the deepening blue-black bruises across his nose. "Your nose is really bad," she sighs. "You're gonna end up with that weird crooked bump that all the girls go wild for."

Specifically, this part is true, so she can believe him or not. He looks at Elise and her challenge, bloodshot blue eyes very serious when Graham says slowly, "I believe that, if you just keep your head down and do what you're told, you'll be fine." It's a narrowly defined truth, but it's truth nonetheless. She looks away, and it's Graham's turn to catch her chin, holding on to the end of it with his fingers and thumb, just holding her face still. "I'm not trying to bullshit you, El. This shit is real, and it's dangerous, but all you have to do is what you have to do and don't ask questions, all right? All else being equal, Felix isn't trying to get you killed as long as you serve a purpose. So just keep serving it." There's a big old 'PLEASE, DO IT FOR ME' in the drawn brows and sad frown.

There's a soft snort at his words initially, until he takes her chin in his hands and lifts her focus back up to those bloodshot blue eyes of his. She blinks a few times, but her focus settles - she doesn't try to fight him, and instead just leans her chin into his hand. The words he speaks - or the pleading emotion of his face, perhaps - draws her own brows and sets her lips into a thin frown. She's quiet for a moment, but a sigh soon follows. "All right, okay. I'll.. I'll keep my head down," she says quietly, a solemn promise. "But.."

There are always butts.

"You have to promise me something," she lifts her hand to curl her fingers around his wrist, not taking his fingers from her chin yet. "You have to promise me that you're going to do the same thing. That you're gonna keep your head down, and you're gonna do what you're told. And you're not gonna try to run after me the next time they pull me into the back room, and you're not gonna lose your mind when some asshole shows up on our doorstep and I gotta go do whatever they want me to do. Graham.." there's just a note of a tremble to her voice, "I don't need a white knight. I need my best friend. With hopefully a lot fewer bruises, because it's getting to be incredibly difficult not to kiss you and I'd like to have the opportunity at some point in the near future."

Graham looks at her for a solid five seconds after the mutual ask, scraping his teeth across each other behind his lips, the sound only audible because she's still sitting on his lap. Eventually, after the instinct to just lie or deflect is shoved down, he manages to answer, "All right." It'd be really nice if he could breathe through his nose right now, but he can't, so he settles for a pull in through the teeth he stops grinding. "You promise to do what you're told, and I promise to stay out of it." She keeps talking about kissing, and he's on Percocet, so his thumb spends a moment tracing the shape of her lips.

So he leans over, and he fits his lips to her. It's probably the lightest kiss that ever happened, but it's still a kiss. That's happening on the toilet. Yep, he knows how to treat a lady.

She patiently waits all of those five seconds, running the tips of her fingers down his forearm from wrist to elbow as he nosily scrapes his teeth over his lip. And when he finally answers, she tips her chin into a faint nod. "Thank you," she murmurs, sliding her hand around to touch his elbow. She may have more to say, but it would disturb the thumb on her lips, and that feels too nice to disturb. So instead, her lips curve into a faint smile, and then subtly pucker to brush over the pad of his thumb.

And then he leans forward and gives her the lightest kiss in the entire world, but it was everything that she wanted in the moment. Even if it was on the toilet. At least he didn't have his pants around his ankles? Her lips part in a soft sigh, and she lingers there without pressing for more, letting this be enough for now. And when it was over, and she pulls back, her smile brightens just a bit more. "I bet you're a good kisser when your nose isn't broke," she teases.

Keep feeding him Percocet and the pants'll be around his ankles any minute. Graham leans forward when she pulls back, like the littlest kiss in the history of kisses wasn't done and where's she going? But he's not kite-high (yet), just able to focus on things without the searing pain through his head, and possibly just a little lead-limbed. He drops his hand, feels heavier than it really is, down off her chin and lands it on her collarbones, fingertip in the hollow of her throat, and he nods agreeably. "What're we wagering? 'Cause you'd obviously win that bet, but I could still be persuaded to play on the right terms."

Not that Graham has a problem with gambling. He just happens to have it maxed out on his sheet. So yeah. Let's roll!

It was doubtful that Elise would be feeding him any more Percocet. He's had enough! But the forward lean brings out a laugh that was lighter than the kiss he fit to her lips, and she lifts her hand to skate the tips of her fingers along the line of his jaw. She hadn't expected the little jolt of electricity that tingles through her from the drop of his hand and sudden placement of it on her collarbone; but with the press of his finger, he could likely feel her swallowing, the flutter of her pulse not too far from where his finger lands. "Wagering?" she sounds briefly far-off, likely succumbing to a bit of fantasy, but his words pull her back. "I mean I'm pretty sure we both end up winning with this bet but why don't we play for a date?" Her brows climb, and she swallows again, a touch heavily this time. Mostly because she tacks on at the end of that:

"In my bed?"

Wagering? "Yeah, as in... I'll see your date - " Hey, she got there before he did, and Graham is feeling juuuuust good enough to grin without getting struck by pain-lightning for being stupid enough to try to use his broken face. "First off, I'll take that bet. Second off," with the fingers stroking her neck lightly while she swallows all heavily. He's a helpful bastard. "We can do a lotta stuff without waiting for my face to get better. I mean, I'd still brush my teeth first, but we don't have to make out to back to bed."

He did warn her that he was going to try to get her to have sex with him once she gave him the drugs. The warning still stands.

There's a quiet breath taken in from the stroke of his fingers, tiny little goosebumps prickling in the wake of his touch. "A lotta stuff, huh?" she repeats, drawing herself forward if only on instinct, and tilting her head to drop a kiss against the side of his jaw. "Like what? Snuggle?" she murmurs, a quiet laugh skipping over his skin as she plants another kiss further up his jaw, just before his ear. "Hold hands and talk about our lifelong goals? Our relationship expectations?" she tips her chin, snags the bottom of his earlobe with her teeth, and gingerly pulls.

And then she leans away again, the apples of her cheeks red and her lips parting with another swift inhale. But that grin that takes over after is dazzling and crafty, lighting a spark of life into her dark eyes. "'Cause I'm not fucking you while you're high on Percocet. But good try, babe."

"Sure." Snuggle. Graham nods enthusiastically, like that's exactly what he meant. He nods a little less enthusiastically about holding hands and talking about goals, then doesn't nod at all about relationship expectations - which has nothing to do with the subject matter. It's just that, by then, he doesn't want to deter the direction her lips are going by moving his head too much. That would be a bummer. For him. So he just curls his fingers around the back of her neck, tips his head a little, and walks the other hand up her spine. Under her shirt.

"I'm not high on Percocet." He takes a beat to think about that, fingertipping all the way back down her spine and letting that fingertip hook on the back of her waistband. "I'm very slightly fuzzy on Percocet. I could still," eeeenh, not drive, he needs a second to think about things he could actually do, "cheat at poker and get away with it." He answers her dazzling smile with a winning (albeit heavily bruised) grin. Trust him~!

"Mhmmm," responds Elise doubtfully, though the roll of that 'mm' that lingers after the 'hm' is a direct result of the way his fingers feel on her spine. She stretches, dropping a hand to his chest and lightly scritching her nails against his shirt, pulling at the collar to tug it down, so that her nail can scrape along over his collarbone. "You have a pretty smile. Even if it's all beat up," she remarks, leaning forward to brush her lips oh-so-gingerly against his bottom one. She breathes in again, and sighs him back out, and then she's leaning back to get out of his lap before she really regrets her life choices and does him on the toilet.

"Let me fix up your nose," she decides suddenly, firmly, trying to ignore the way his hands felt on her. "And then I have to get ready. Because I'm pretty sure that guy who's daughter you fucked without a condom said he'd be picking me up at noon." Oh yeah, she heard that.

The noise that Graham makes when she gives him that little kiss and then leans away is pretty much the saddest noise in the history of all the noises. Like, if the whine of the world's most bummed out puppy could be transferred into the soul of a grown man and made a little rougher because that grown man has a big owie? That's the sound that rumbles around in the back of Graham's throat when Elise starts being a goddamn responsible human being. "There're a lotta parts of me that are pretty, baby. Stay a while, you can get to know 'em all." He does not make getting out of his lap easy, tyvm, pulling on the back of her waistband in a 'no you stay put' way.

But he also lies super-badly right then and rattles off, "The guy whose daughter I said I fucked without a condom. I say a lotta things that aren't true." And imply even more~!

All right, the saddest little whimper in the entire whole wide world gives her pause. Because she's only human, and it was adorable. Plus, it was rather difficult to get off his lap with how he's pulling on her waistband - but wait. He had to open his big fat mouth again. And this time? He kinda ruins it. "Oookay, she reaches around to peel his fingers off, one by one, from the waistband of her leggings, curling her fingers around them after and giving a little squeeze. "I'm gonna write that one off as the Percocet messing with your brain? But that wasn't hot, babe. That was really kinda cringy and gross," she wrinkles her nose and squints at him, looking almost apologetic. But she lifts his hand to her lips and gives his fingertips each a little kiss. And she may nip at his thumb, but that's just her being a tease. And maybe sort of a bitch.

"You do say a lot of things that aren't true," she agrees, keeping his hand in hers so that she can get the fuck off his lap in peace. "But we're totally putting a pin in the conversation about you showing me all your pretty things." Her face says she's sorry, but she's really not sorry.

Graham will continue to sulk. He will also eventually try to take off some of his clothes and possibly hers, too. By the time that second Percocet really kicks in, though, even if she agreed to do stuff with him? It'd just be impossible. Best just to do what she can to fix his nose and pour him back into bed. Oh, but maybe she'll bring him a drink of water? Please?

He'll be out cold by the time she gets back with it, though, snoring.