But it might be worth a shot, so long as he can regulate them. He knows that if he had a bottle of something sedative right now he'd likely toy with the idea of the high they bring on their own. But he's trapped between two difficult decisions: relapse or find a way to deal with the screaming in his head. He knows which will be easier and which one feels nigh impossible, but maybe he'll give it a try. He's not known what being clean and sober and clear feels like since he was a teenager.
But she's there before he can speak again, and her arms around him do something to dissolve the tension wringing his body tight, vice-like. Letting out a breath he leans into her, arms falling to hug her in return. There's something nice about knowing he's standing in Allison's kitchen instead of scrounging around New York. He has to remember that.
"Have I ever told you that you are an angel, Heaven-sent from the great glowy grand Poobah himself?" He draws her back at arm's length to look at her before he hugs her again, kissing her cheek. "I will happily smoke them in your honor in quick succession. A funeral pyre for all your bad habits, obliterated for the next six months. Alas."
He doesn't feel like himself, not really, but the frenetic energy, the smile, the grand gestures and verbosity are his easiest lean-tos.
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But it might be worth a shot, so long as he can regulate them. He knows that if he had a bottle of something sedative right now he'd likely toy with the idea of the high they bring on their own. But he's trapped between two difficult decisions: relapse or find a way to deal with the screaming in his head. He knows which will be easier and which one feels nigh impossible, but maybe he'll give it a try. He's not known what being clean and sober and clear feels like since he was a teenager.
But she's there before he can speak again, and her arms around him do something to dissolve the tension wringing his body tight, vice-like. Letting out a breath he leans into her, arms falling to hug her in return. There's something nice about knowing he's standing in Allison's kitchen instead of scrounging around New York. He has to remember that.
"Have I ever told you that you are an angel, Heaven-sent from the great glowy grand Poobah himself?" He draws her back at arm's length to look at her before he hugs her again, kissing her cheek. "I will happily smoke them in your honor in quick succession. A funeral pyre for all your bad habits, obliterated for the next six months. Alas."
He doesn't feel like himself, not really, but the frenetic energy, the smile, the grand gestures and verbosity are his easiest lean-tos.