theattic | PSL: That's A Real Lemon You Got There

James still wasn't quite the picture of health-- better than when he'd first arrived, but whatever paunch he'd once had couldn't quite be built back up by a mere couple weeks of eating actual meals. His ribs could be felt when pressed.

Of course, having that pressing hand there is starting to really register in James's sluggish, drunken mind as A Thing. A Thing that he's not sure how to think about. He feels light-headed, and kind of on the verge of overheating.

Swallowing, he tugs at his collar.

But doesn't lean out of the semi-halfassed embrace that they'd found themselves in.

"W... what? No, of... f'course not..."

When his fingers found the spaces between James's ribs, he only felt worse, remembering. Havoc twisted his fingers into the fabric of the taller man's shirt, but whether it was to seek comfort or keep himself from sliding sideways off his chair was unclear.

"Right. Right. I do my best, I take care of business." His voice grew hoarse. "Your best is all you can do, right?"

If he hadn't been drunk himself, he'd have been alarmed at the sudden, clear emotion in Havoc's usually-smarmy voice.

As it is, he's having a hard time getting his mind off of the fingers exploring his ribcage, making him squirm involuntarily against the other man. He just... can't shake that lightheadedness off...

"Y... yeah, of course it is... you uh... you gotta do your best..." Why does he feel out of breath...? "... Mister Dynamite, er... are you okay?"

"Yeah...yeah, that's right. That's right! "

He drew in a loud sniff and suddenly leaned up, drawing his hands away from James's chest only to clap them back on his shoulders with new determination. He wouldn't just do a better job with these two. He'd do the best job.

"I do a damn good job!" He nearly dug his claws in as he started kneeding again as a new emotion cycled its way around.

When the hands withdrew, James let out a shaky breath-- he'd been holding it without even realizing. ... Only to suck it sharply back in again as Havoc went right back to work on his shoulders.

He was finally starting to realize what that lowkey buzzing feeling was from, and it wasn't just from the alcohol.

"Y-yeah, you do!"

Because outside of the slowly-growing feeling of "uh oh" in his head, the only thing James knows how to do is affirm.

"We're gonna finally put this place on the map! We'll do betta than some measly ad in the paper. I'm talkin' radio commercials. TV commercials."

He leaned over top of James so that he could look at him upside down, his body pressed against the back of his head. The chair was in very real danger of flipping over onto both of them at this point. His tie hit him in the face and he puffed it aside with a blustery sound.

"You can work a camera can't you? 'Course you can! Hope you're not camera shy! Folks love a face like yours! Young--but mysterioushh!"

THIS IS GETTING ROWDY FAST.

Trying not to choke on his own spit, James blinked up at the upside-down face of his boss, a distinct flush in his normally-pale (almost sallow, these days) cheeks.

"Camera? Uh..."

He's not NEARLY drunk enough to think that telling Havoc he'd do okay on-camera would be a remotely good idea. For one thing, he and Laura technically are on the run.

For another... James Sunderland has never, ever been photogenic.

"Don't woooorry abou'd it! You-ou're fine."

And then, with a loud, metallic creak, the chair dumped Havoc out and then fell over on top of both of them. The salesman let out a loud, undignified bleating sound and instantly started scrambling to right himself. Wow, geeze, talk about unprofessional!

"You okay, Sundahlaynd?" Once he was on his feet, Havoc shoved the chair away and swayed on the spot. Ow, his everything.

Even on a good day, James wasn't a very coordinated guy.

So while he saw this impending disaster from a mile away, there was nothing he could do but faceplant right into the floor with Havoc's weight on top of him when that chair finally decided it'd had enough of their antics.

It seemed to be an appropriately ironic end to an... eye-opening situation.

James had never been a fan of irony.

"... Uh... uh huh," came the weak, muffled reply from the floor, where James had remained even after his boss had managed to pick himself up.

The floor was his home now.

Havoc blinked sluggishly down at James. He should probably do something about that.

"Alright, enough a' that." He bent down and took hold of his employee under the arms. "Upsadaisy." Before he had James halfway up he realized the mistake he'd made in trying to stand up another human being that was probably a good foot taller than he was. He started to teeter backwards. "Help me out here!"

Havoc you brought this on yourself he would have been perfectly happy staying RIGHT THERE ON THE FLOOR.

"M-nf, sorry--"

His legs were jello and there was NOT MUCH HE COULD DO ABOUT THAT. So Havoc might find himself toppling backwards if he's not careful.

Good gravy could this guy not hold his liquor!

Havoc continued to reel backward until the two of them thumped hard against the filing cabinet. At least they were still upright. He struggled to move his arms further down James's torso to get less and less of him off the floor. This was a disaster.

"Sundahland!"

PSL: That's A Real Lemon You Got There

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