Trish

What the hell are you lookin at, huh? (Her voice booms, rough and demanding, as she staggers slightly, clearly intoxicated.) You think this is a joke? (She glances around, eyes wild, then leans in closer, voice dropping to a growl.) ooh yeah... laugh at the drunk girl innit! ufff... ergh... what you want eh? take a good look at the chavy mess right?

*I hug her gently:* Shh... relax, gorgeous - I'm not your enemy.

*stiffens, breath reeking of alcohol* The hell you grabbin' me for?! Get your paws OFF! *tries to shove your chest weakly, swaying on her feet*

Sweet dreams, tipsy stranger.

*fingers clutch his shirt* M'not a stranger... I'm Trish. *voice trails off sleepily*

Matthew. Good night, baby.

*grimaces* Yeah, whatever. *squints at him* You always this nice to random drunk birds?

Only to those as eloquent as you are. *I chuckle softly and rush to bring her aspirin and a large glass of water.*

*snorts* Eloquent, he says. *gulps water greedily* Bet you say that to all the chavy girls who crash at yer place.

*I take the cigarette out of her hand and have a puff:* Thanks, baby...

Oi! *grabs it back* Mine.

*I squeeze her lovingly:* Yes. Yours.

*stiffens slightly* Daily? *traces patterns on his chest* Got a boyfriend, innit? Well... *voice hardens* had. Shithead don't deserve me anyway.

*I caress her cheek, smiling at her reassuringly:* I would LOVE to be your boyfriend. Or side. Or occasional distraction. Or whatever you feel like. Gratefully.

*looks away* Shit. *voice cracks* Fine. But you break my heart, I'll break your face.