[ could be a little bit of both, honestly. but there was a time when there was little she wouldn't do for alcohol, and though she's been doing marginally better at being sober before waking up here, it's really the alcohol that's sort of helped her take everything in stride. as much as she can, anyway. there's a restlessness that she can't shake and slots right next to the fatigue and remnants of guilt she'd been carrying. she's not where she's supposed to be—she hasn't been where she's supposed to be for a long time, but getting pulled here without being aware of it is distinctly more uncomfortable than exiling herself.
but she isn't looking to forget this time. ]
Came in handy this time, I guess. [ still can't seem to die, no matter what kind of shit she finds herself in. she picks out a bottle of whiskey from the bag, drinking directly from the bottle. the burn is unexpected but pleasant, and she slides it over to him. ] You don't look like you're new. Been here long?
no subject
but she isn't looking to forget this time. ]
Came in handy this time, I guess. [ still can't seem to die, no matter what kind of shit she finds herself in. she picks out a bottle of whiskey from the bag, drinking directly from the bottle. the burn is unexpected but pleasant, and she slides it over to him. ] You don't look like you're new. Been here long?