video. un: p.parker | the morning of september 20th (aka an epilogue to bad choices)

[madeupnames]

[There's a muffled and pained groan, one of a boy who has made terrible mistakes and is suffering horribly for it.

... And also a clear sound of someone sliding out of a bed and thumping on the floor — blankets and all, legs barely hanging onto the lip of the mattress.]


I am so, so sorry.

Comments

[madeupnames]

... If you want to. I don't wanna... That is, it's my own fault, right?

So I can get them myself, unless you're just... passing through...

[This is an open-ended translation of "but please ignore my bids for independence".]

[indigobird]

[Siiiigh]

Peter, you're giving me an excuse to get out of doing work. That's a good thing. I'm not the least bit upset. Quite the opposite.

[Walking walking walking~]

If I didn't want to be pried from my work, I wouldn't have offered a meal.

[madeupnames]

[... A sigh, soft but at least relenting.]

Okay, okay. I got it. I'll send you my address... and - uh, just let yourself in.

[It's a cute little place, okay!

Meanwhile, Peter is still balled up in a blanket on his bed. RIP.]

lmao i mixed up my last reply thinking it was our other thread but ig it kinda works??

[indigobird]

[Ugh, that came off as more chiding than intended, but she really wouldn't have offered if she didn't mean it.]

I'll be in and out.

[Relm's over in no time at all, bottle of pills (and a bit of food) in hand. Pain relievers being in pill form is still new to her, but they work well and they require less effort to ingest. Quietly she opens the door, smiling in sympathetic amusement as she sees the blanket burrito that is Peter.]

Here. [She puts the bottle and the container full of soup on his workbench.] Pills for now, soup for later when your stomach isn't feeling like a bag of feral cats fighting each other.

the joys of multiple threads at once XD

[madeupnames]

... Thanks.

[A head of unkempt hair slowly emerges from the blanket, followed by drowsy brown eyes.]

I made a real idiot of myself last night, huh?

indeed

[indigobird]

[Relm laughs lowly. He does make for a sorry sight.]

A little. But that's just part of growing up. I don't know a single person who doesn't have some cringe-worthy story that can be blamed on drinking too much.

[madeupnames]

[His eyebrows raise, as he peers over the blanket.]

Does that include you?

[indigobird]

Of course. [Oh, boy does she have stories...] I was young and relatively stupid once.

[madeupnames]

... You can't just leave it at that.

[DEET IT OR BEAT IT, HAWKE]

[indigobird]

I thought you were horribly sick and hungover and needed some peace and quiet?

[madeupnames]

[He just. Flutters his eyelashes innocently at her.]

[indigobird]

[Maker damn it.]

Oh, fine. Let's see... [Her earliest drunken adventures were in Ferelden. The ones in Kirkwall range from amusing to batshit crazy, but she was older at that point. She tries to think back to her earliest ones. At least, the ones she can remember.]

There's the time I mooned the entire tavern in Lothering.

[madeupnames]

Oh my god. What even inspires that kinda' drunkeness?

I mean, I definitely don't remember wanting anyone to see my butt.

[indigobird]

A long hard week and someone making the mistake of saying... I don't even remember exactly what he said, but it was something to do with me making a fine ass of myself. So I stood up, bent over and said, "No, this is a fine ass." And well... everyone saw my fine ass.

[madeupnames]

[He rubs a hand over his eyes, feeling some good ol' second-hand embarrassment.]

Miss Hawke, that's terrible.

[indigobird]

[...he's never gonna drop the "Miss", is he?]

Mr. Parker, [Because she's a shit heel] if you haven't figured it out already, let me spell this out for you: I'm generally kind of terrible.

[madeupnames]

[Even with his headache, he can't help but smile a little bit, eyebrows furrowed and expression rather fond.]

I don't think you're terrible at all.

In fact, you're pretty awesome.

[indigobird]

Peter, please. My ego hardly needs more inflating, as much as I enjoy the compliment. [But she's smiling. Not her usual little smirk or amused grin, but an honest smile. He's a good kid, and it's a relief to know that her ridiculousness hasn't made him shy away from her.]

Knock back those pills and pass out for awhile. Your poor head will thank you for it.

[madeupnames]

[Hey now, he's got a lot of ridiculous friends here in Riverview; you're among good company.

Fidgeting with the pills, he says:]

I'd hate to make you come all this way just for me to konk out, though...

[Even though his head feels like it's splitting in half, like in a scary movie.]

[indigobird]

[True, she's in good company in the quarantine.]

That's what I was expecting to happen. I knew I wasn't going to sit down and have a long chat. You're sick. Self-inflicted, granted, but still sick.

[madeupnames]

[He shrinks miserably, his eyes peeking out from over the blanket.]

Good point... Um.

Thank you, Miss Hawke.

[indigobird]

It's fine. Get some rest, ye of the terribly hungover. We'll chat again when your brain and stomach stop rebelling.

[She gives him a friendly wink before turning and strolling out. Have fun being miserably sick for the rest of the day, Peter.]