(no subject)

[righteousindignation]

it's not the alcohol but the confessions that leave her feeling off in the morning. she's not used to someone else knowing, that portion of her visible and as dramatic a change as short sleeves after years of wearing only long ones. but he understood, could empathise with the secrecy even.

very carefully getting out of the bed (he'll wake anyway but she can make the effort), picking up her glasses and her hair tie, she realizes she brought nothing with her--not a big problem, as she picks up one of his t-shirts from the floor and puts that on. for now, she'll leave him to try to sleep a little more, and instead peek around the house.

it feels less like a home and more like a picture, she thinks, trailing her finger along the back of a chair, but it speaks of him in that regard. pulling her hair into a loose bun (brushing it was out of the question right now) she wonders why the place feels...not safe, but like her flat in that she'll know what goes on around her even if it happens a ways away.

breakfast. that'd be nice.

at the least he has a few things she can use for a simple breakfast for them both, and it's not terribly hard to find coffee and get that started as well. how he manages, she doesn't know and doesn't care to know. while the eggs cook, she considers, and scolds herself for considering, and goes back to it--she had just went with it. spontaneous for real, not the appearance of it that was actually planned somewhat. she had no clothes, no makeup aside from a lipstick, she'd been half drunk and bloodied (rest in relative peace, mr. anderson) and here she was making food like she lived here.

she never got drunk in front of other people. she never talked while drunk in front of other people. she never talked like that in front of other people. it wasn't done.

but it was done, and the eggs are done, and goddammit, cyril is a man with beautiful looks who has the personality worth of a rotting corpse. maybe that's why she keeps seeing him, because he's a terrible man. she's a monster of a woman herself. is that why they found each other? did living without regular morality leave a mark on someone's face that drew in others? are they going to put another twist in the universe and do something wretched together, combining themselves to create something that will devour them both and go down laughing?

she's being ridiculous, and she knows it, but that level of drama is only possible in a better mood than she was in last night. cyril doesn't have a tray, but he has a cutting board, and that'll have to be good enough as she carries it all back. he's letting her stay the weekend, she could be kind enough to make food for two.

he'll be awake when she puts the tray on the bed, she knows this, probably has been awake this whole time, and she makes herself calm down--the biggest worry in her head right now should be if he minds over-easy or not.