Walter Sullivan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
illdrinktothat) wrote2013-07-24 02:56 am
illdrinktothat) wrote2013-07-24 02:56 am
[UNRECORDED]
Walter goes right back to drinking as soon as Caro leaves. Well, feeding his cat then drinking, so when he does inevitably pass out (finally, many hours into the night later) his fucking cat is less likely to wake him up.
She does anyway.
The first thing he sees is a small furry face and unnaturally big green eyes, approximately an inch from his nose. Which she'd been biting.
"Goddamnit, cat, no. Go the fuck away," He grumbles at her until he realizes that the daylight shining in through the cracks of the curtains looks a lot further along than morning - beyond late afternoon, even. Well, fuck. Bourbon gets gently shoved off her place on his chest so he can roll over and tryand cover his face with his arms because despite whatever the fucking sun says, it feels like too early and not enough liquor yet. His cat keeps pawing at him. His head's pounding. The cold wood floor isn't helping his head much, either, but he doesn't feel like moving yet. Two seconds later, the small cat latched to the back of it doesn't help, either. Those claws are fucking sharp.
He curses and yells and she scampers away, but he's up, finally. From there it's just... finding if he has any coffee left to make and maybe actually changing to a different set of clothes before Caro shows up. That might be a good idea.
He ends up sitting on the kitchen floor, drinking black coffee and feeding Bourbon sardines while he waits for the inevitable neighborly visit. She settles right into his lap, apparently having forgiven his earlier rudeness since he found more treats for her.
She does anyway.
The first thing he sees is a small furry face and unnaturally big green eyes, approximately an inch from his nose. Which she'd been biting.
"Goddamnit, cat, no. Go the fuck away," He grumbles at her until he realizes that the daylight shining in through the cracks of the curtains looks a lot further along than morning - beyond late afternoon, even. Well, fuck. Bourbon gets gently shoved off her place on his chest so he can roll over and tryand cover his face with his arms because despite whatever the fucking sun says, it feels like too early and not enough liquor yet. His cat keeps pawing at him. His head's pounding. The cold wood floor isn't helping his head much, either, but he doesn't feel like moving yet. Two seconds later, the small cat latched to the back of it doesn't help, either. Those claws are fucking sharp.
He curses and yells and she scampers away, but he's up, finally. From there it's just... finding if he has any coffee left to make and maybe actually changing to a different set of clothes before Caro shows up. That might be a good idea.
He ends up sitting on the kitchen floor, drinking black coffee and feeding Bourbon sardines while he waits for the inevitable neighborly visit. She settles right into his lap, apparently having forgiven his earlier rudeness since he found more treats for her.