eighty one - the ninth bind

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 i've got my water. my blue light glasses on. my chapstick. a blankey. I'm here for a few more hours.


dbl update. check out eighty if you havent


-ky


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"Can I use your bathtub?" Gwen asked, stumbling a bit as the pair of them entered the apartment space she'd begun calling "home".

Harry was in front of her already, kicking his boots off and tossing his leather jacket onto the couch from the entryway.

She couldn't see his expression, which might've been for the best considering the way she saw his shoulders tense and his pinky finger twitch in his relaxed hand. Gwen imagined that his nostrils were flared though.

"Why?" He asked.

They'd just gotten back from the club, having drank their own weight in various drinks. Well, for him it was only whiskey.

She wondered why that was.

Regardless, Gwen felt like she could sit for a while, catch her thoughts in her escaping drunken state slowly leaving her body, and then plop into a nice, hot bath for at least an hour. The evening helped relax her now constantly stressed mind, but she wanted something a little more savory to dwell herself into.

"Because the main bath doesn't have one and you've greedily kept your bathroom away from me for the better part of my stay," she pointed out, shuffling her heels off frustratedly.

Lucy had to help her get them on, the heels basically nothing but straps and making them entirely impractical to get her feet in and out of.

"Notice how you said 'your' bathroom. As in mine," Harry grumbled, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a water.

Gwen eyed him for a moment, trying to come up with a rebuttal.

She couldn't, and she blamed in on the heat still flowing in her system.

"Have you eaten today?" She asked instead.

Harry's brow twitched but he did not face her. Still, she trained her gaze on him just as she managed to slip both of the heels off and quickly kicked them against the wall without damaging the surface.

"Have you brushed your teeth today?"

Gwen snorted, opening the fridge and grabbing her own bottle of water to chug down. She hadn't had a single drop while at Club 62, and that would definitely be a mistake for tomorrow if she slept anytime soon.

"Was planning to do my second brush right after my bath," she answered.

Harry gripped onto his plastic bottle before setting it on the counter, leaning his hip against the corner. "Second?"

"Yes. You know, one in the morning and one at night?"

"It's supposed to be three," he argued. "Once after each meal."

Gwen rolled her eyes, sipping her own water and shaking her head, "No one actually brushes three times a day."

Harry creased his forehead then and her mouth fell agape a little.

"No shot," she chuckled. "You're probably ruining your enamel." 

"What are you talking about," he blankly asked, barely a question.

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