IC contact for wethelost

[devoutish]

Solomons & Melborn
1108 Sweet Cream Street

[Feel free to use this space for letter/package deliveries as well as visits/knocks on the front door!]

Comments

[devoutish]

[Alfie's just going to rub his back. Let it all out, buddy.]

[bywolves]

[ He does, coughing as he finishes, leaning back to flop against Alfie, a bit teary-eyed from the effort. ]

[devoutish]

Your breath smells.

[He murmurs sweetly into Royce's ear, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and just holding him.]

[bywolves]

S-sorry. [ He sounds a little pathetic. Feels that way too as he limply lays there. He's very close to passing out entirely. ]

[devoutish]

It's all right, mate. Can you stand?

[bywolves]

Mmhm. [ Probably. He's going to try. ]

[devoutish]

And you're sure you won't let me carry you?

[bywolves]

Yes. [ Royce says stubbornly. ] I can. I can do it.

[devoutish]

[Alfie stands, holding the railing for support and balance, and reaches down to hold a hand out to Royce. Come on, then.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce slowly pulls himself up, holding onto Alfie heavily. He pauses for a second, trying to make sure he doesn't throw up again, and then goes the rest of the way, eyes out of focus. It is highly unlikely he's going to remember any of this in the morning. ]

M'tired. [ Royce tells Alfie, sad and quiet. ] I'm really tired.

[devoutish]

I'm sorry.

[He'll stand with him at the top of the steps for a moment before going on, holding him up.]

[bywolves]

S'okay. It isn't your fault. [ He slurs, letting Alfie lead him anywhere he wants. Royce is basically sludge at this point. ] S'not. S'not anybody's. I don't think. I think. I think m'just sad. Always. It's always there. It doesn't go away. Sad and it. It tires me.

[devoutish]

[He'll take him over to the bed, sitting him down at the edge of it and bending to start unlacing his boots for him.]

What helps, mate? Does anything?

[bywolves]

You do. [ Royce says honestly, raw and hoarse, watching Alfie take his boots off. ] Letters to - to Gwen. Emily.

[ He stares, unblinking. ] You. A lot. I wanna. You know the wine? We wanted to make? I want to do that.

[devoutish]

Yeah?

[He pulls off each of Royce's boots, swinging Royce's legs up onto the bed before he starts to work on his own laces.]

Yeah, we can do that.

[bywolves]

Yeah. [ Royce mumbles. ] Yeah, I wanna.

I need - I need more to remember you. [ He says, muffled, curling up on his side on the bed. ] Kid knows I'm mir, yeah? He knows, I didn't tell him. M'so angry at him, I hate him.

[devoutish]

He threw it in your face, did he? Thoughtlessly?

[Alfie doubts he would do it in anger, but thoughtlessness can be just as bad.]

[bywolves]

Nn. No, he -- [ Royce doesn't know if he can explain it as drunk as he is, but he tries. ] I said - I don't know how old I am. He said you're human and they have sh-short lifespans and s'no excuse for not knowing. And then he looked at me and said oh, nevermind, you're not human, and I didn't tell him. He in-- he invaded, he knew and --

S'common know-- it's. He said I should know that he's fucking invasive. He said I was stupid for not knowing that - that --

[ Kid did not, in fact, call him stupid, but Royce took it that way. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie kicks both their boots aside and climbs up onto the bed next to Royce, halfway draping himself over him.]

Has he ever met a gangster, do you think?

[bywolves]

[ Royce quiets down, hanging onto Alfie tightly. He swallows hard, and then sniffs. ]

I dunno. He's Death. Maybe. [ A beat. ] I don't wanna kill him. Not. Not really, I -- I don't want to ever see him again.

[devoutish]

I could take care of it. Wouldn't have to kill him - just remind him to watch his tongue, that's all.

[bywolves]

No. [ Royce says, sniffing again. ] No. I'm not - I'm a man, too. I can do it. I don't want you to. Don't fight my battles for me.

[devoutish]

I don't think of it that way.

[But he won't do anything if Royce doesn't want him to, even if his body is thrumming for it - to get up in Kid's face; to intimidate him.

But he won't. Instead, he'll abruptly change subjects.]

-- What did you mean, you need more to remember me by?

[bywolves]

[ He curls up more tightly. ]

You're going to die and leave me. [ His voice is small and quiet. ] So - so. If we make. If we make wine, and put our names on it. S'another memory. And something - real. Something real to hold onto.

[devoutish]

[Alfie tightens his grip around Royce's shoulders, frowning.]

That's not what we talked about, me dying.