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

[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.]