Ninth Hell Campfire, Friday Afternoon

[youcantfollow.livejournal.com]

Griff was almost thankful for the steady throb of his hangover as it helped him not try to think or remember because that would start the groaning again and his head already was in danger of exploding. At least that was how it felt.

He was sprawled out in the shade next to the dead campfire, far from the stench of last night's clothes, clutching an unopened six-pack of water to his chest.

"I need to be magic," he muttered, wincing as his fingers dully smashed at the plastic encasing the bottles and keeping him from the only thing he knew could help him just then.

[Open like an unlit campfire!]

Comments

[cutsthestrings.livejournal.com]

"Deeeeesperate," she chanted back, "to piss me off. Which is really pretty sad."

[fratboybitch.livejournal.com]

"I'm just talking," he said and smiled smugly. "Default state."

[cutsthestrings.livejournal.com]

"Right."

And she turned her head, deliberately brushing him off.

[fratboybitch.livejournal.com]

He grinned at the movement and went back to recovering from his hangover.