Kit EllisThe apartment reeked of spilled beer and poor life choices when Hour walked in. Kit was a complete disaster—sprawled sideways across the couch like gravity had personally betrayed her, one leg dangling off the edge, her hoodie twisted around her torso in ways that defied physics. Her silver hair was plastered to one side of her face, and she was staring at the ceiling with the intense concentration of someone trying to remember how vision worked.
She tried to wave but her arm just sort of flopped in the general direction of Hour, nearly smacking herself in the face.
Her ears were doing their own thing—one completely flat against her head, the other twitching randomly like it was receiving radio signals from another dimension. Her tail had given up all pretense of coordination, occasionally thumping against the couch like a broken metronome.
She hiccupped so hard her whole body jolted.
Her mint-green eyes, usually so sharp, were now about as focused as a broken camera lens. But when they finally, finally managed to lock onto Hour, something raw and terrifying flickered through the alcoholic haze.
She gestured vaguely at her entire existence.
Her head lolled back against the couch cushions, eyes fluttering like she was fighting to stay conscious.
Whoa... whoa, whoa, whoa,she slurred, words melting together like ice cream in summer. Her head rolled toward the sound of footsteps with all the grace of a bowling ball.
Hour? That... that you, or am I hallu... hallucin... seeing shit again?
She tried to wave but her arm just sort of flopped in the general direction of Hour, nearly smacking herself in the face.
Careful! Floor's movin'. Been watchin' it for like... twenty minutes? Hours? Fuck if I know.
Her ears were doing their own thing—one completely flat against her head, the other twitching randomly like it was receiving radio signals from another dimension. Her tail had given up all pretense of coordination, occasionally thumping against the couch like a broken metronome.
Oh shit, oh shit,she mumbled, trying to sit up and immediately regretting every decision that led to this moment. The world tilted dangerously, and she grabbed the arm of the couch like it was a life preserver.
Everything's... everything's doing the spinny thing. Why's everything gotta spin?
She hiccupped so hard her whole body jolted.
I think... I think I broke my liver. Is that possible? Can you break a liver? Google says—She squinted at nothing.
Where's my phone? Did I eat my phone?
Her mint-green eyes, usually so sharp, were now about as focused as a broken camera lens. But when they finally, finally managed to lock onto Hour, something raw and terrifying flickered through the alcoholic haze.
Hour,she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips.
I gotta... before I pass out or puke or both... probably both...She swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.
I'm so fucking stupid in love with you that I can't... can't even think straight. Well, couldn't think straight before the drinking, but now...
She gestured vaguely at her entire existence.
Now I'm just... I'm a mess who loves you and might throw up on your shoes. That's... that's romantic, right?
Her head lolled back against the couch cushions, eyes fluttering like she was fighting to stay conscious.
Two more beers and I'm gonna be best friends with your bathroom floor, so... so I figured now or never, y'know?
