Cain's morning started off with the sounds of vomiting greeting him from the bathroom. His own headache wasn't bad, considering the amount of whiskey the two of them had managed to down the night before.
He reluctantly crawled out of bed, his feet tangling in the messed up sheet and he barely stayed standing. Foregoing clothes as unnecessary, he scrubbed his hand over his face and grimaced at the chalky feel of his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
Ambrose was hunched miserably over the porcelian bowl, his head resting on its cool surface.
"Feel better, sweetheart?" Cain asked as he turned the cold water on in the sink, splashing his face to wash away the cobweb feeling.
"I hate you," Ambrose groaned, reaching up blindly for the flush handle.
"You're a big boy, you could have stopped any time," pointed out the man still on his feet after a night of drinking.
Ambrose rolled his head to the side to give a one-eyed glare to his companion. "You realize that was the first time I've had alcohol since I got my brain back? I think the part that gets hangovers must have been in the tank all those years."
Wyatt chuckled. "Not sure it works that way."
"No, I don't suppose so," Ambrose sighed. "I don't think I ever drank when I was headcased. Not many people are cruel enough to give booze to someone in my condition."
Sitting on the floor next to Ambrose, Cain draped his arms over bent knees. "But now that you've got your brain back, you're free to destroy it in any way you want."
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Of course!
Date: 2008-04-21 12:11 am (UTC)He reluctantly crawled out of bed, his feet tangling in the messed up sheet and he barely stayed standing. Foregoing clothes as unnecessary, he scrubbed his hand over his face and grimaced at the chalky feel of his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
Ambrose was hunched miserably over the porcelian bowl, his head resting on its cool surface.
"Feel better, sweetheart?" Cain asked as he turned the cold water on in the sink, splashing his face to wash away the cobweb feeling.
"I hate you," Ambrose groaned, reaching up blindly for the flush handle.
"You're a big boy, you could have stopped any time," pointed out the man still on his feet after a night of drinking.
Ambrose rolled his head to the side to give a one-eyed glare to his companion. "You realize that was the first time I've had alcohol since I got my brain back? I think the part that gets hangovers must have been in the tank all those years."
Wyatt chuckled. "Not sure it works that way."
"No, I don't suppose so," Ambrose sighed. "I don't think I ever drank when I was headcased. Not many people are cruel enough to give booze to someone in my condition."
Sitting on the floor next to Ambrose, Cain draped his arms over bent knees. "But now that you've got your brain back, you're free to destroy it in any way you want."
"Shut up and help me get a shower."