《That Small Library by Dover Street》18. Hangover
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"I'm beat."
That made both of them, if he were to be honest. With a sigh, he shakes his head, and his headache finally rearing its head a second later. He sniffles, a tiny whimper escaping his lips, right before he brings up an arm to cover his eyes. Why did the light have to be so damn bright...?
She stares at him over the counter, part of her cheek smushed against the wood. "Actually, never mind." She mutters. "I don't know how you look so shit right now, but you do. Which is amazing, since last I checked, you're not the one in college."
He whimpers even harder, the sound of her voice echoing against his skull.
"Please don't speak." He rasps, to no avail.
"No, I think I will." She mutters back in response, propping herself up so that her chin rested against her palms. "Pretty sure you looked fine yesterday afternoon. What with you barging into my workplace with your friend and all."
"Mhm..." He nods, only to trail off. She rolls her eyes, letting out a haggard sigh as she begins to poke his head.
"So, what happened after you were done eating at the cafe?" She asks, "I went straight home to sleep the rest of the day off, but it looks like you went through the wringer."
With a grumble, he manages to pull his face off his desk, and he stares at her with bloodshot eyes. It didn't stop her from continuing to poke him, which only seemed to tick him off even further. "... Went out drinking with Jay. Stop poking me."
She continued to poke him. "Huh. Didn't take you'd be the type to drink."
"Not my idea." She hums. From what she knew of him, yeah – he'd be more likely to protest his friend dragging him along to a bar. "Fucking idiot told me that I need to up my tolerance, but guess what? All I have is a fucking headache."
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"How many did you drink?"
"Two. Three? Maybe five, I dunno..."
She withdraws her arm and stops poking his forehead, right before she shoots him an incredulous look. "What did you get?"
"I–" His eyes cross. "I dunno. Something about balls and bocchi."
With a sigh, she quickly searches whatever drink he had on her phone, only to blink once more at the result. Really? Well... damn.
"... Bocce Ball's 16 proof, if my google-fu's correct." She sighs, "Since I'm so gracious and all that, I'll assume that you got five drinks. You're still a goddamn lightweight."
"Oh fuck off." He grumbles, mushing his face against the desk once more. "Like you're any better."
She shrugs, conceding the point. He whimpers once more, a hand covering up his eyes, and she glances towards him with a fond smile. "Well, I'll just be reading. You sleep off that hangover of yours, but I'll wake you up when I leave so you know to close shop. Got it?"
He grumbles back in response, and she more or less takes it as a 'yes', sliding off the stool before going off to the shelves in search of something to read.
There was still a few hours left before closing hours. Might as well spend it reading something new.
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