ADDICTED;; ryan

[anaxzandra corinne house]

I want to take my love
And hate you to the end

» Needless to say, the recent times had been some of the most trying times in Xzandr's life. So many things were changing so fast, without warning that it was making her head spin. She was never supposed to become a mother- never wanted to. But since she'd been thrust into the situation, she'd become slightly comfortable with it, or accepted it as something she had to deal with, at any rate. But she thought she had more time; way more time. If for nothing else, then preparing herself to not want to throw the kid out the window the first time it woke her up at three in the morning. But that was all taken away from her by a single, sudden act of violence by a man she still couldn’t identify. She’d spoken to the police- she didn’t call them, but apparently either someone at the hospital did, or they were like Spider-Man and had some sort of crime-radar in their heads- already, but couldn’t tell them any more than that the door was slammed into her just as she was turning around, and that the perpetrator was definitely a man; his voice was pretty deep, and she didn’t know a single female capable of disguising their voice to that level. They asked who all might be pissed enough to attack her, but that list was so long it would take years to narrow it down. They had also asked for patient files, wondering if maybe a family member she pissed off was the perp. They were, of course, met with resistance- farbeit for her to actually follow a code of ethics, doctor/patient confidentiality was the one thing she would never break. People had a hard enough time trusting her as it was, and she didn’t need them all suspicious that she was going to give out their stuff to the cops without a warrant. And what if she was wrong, and pointed out the wrong guy? Then there would be another person extremely pissed at her, and she might not get so lucky and be able to use an unborn baby as a human shield next time.

» The changes to Xzandr herself were the most obvious. She'd become even more withdrawn, and even though she used to at least get up and wander around the hospital, or go down to the cafeteria, or go to Greg's office to torture him, she'd stayed in her own office. In fact, she rarely left it at all, ever. She left to go to the bathroom, and that was about it. She'd only gone home once or twice, which probably wasn't a great idea, but it wasn't like she had a cat she'd forgotten to feed, or plants to water or anything. She hadn't eaten much, maybe a small sandwich or something when she got tired of her stomach randomly rumbling. While she wasn't anorexic or any bullshit like that, she didn't have much of an appetite. She was even more anti-social than before now, and for the most part kept her door locked when she was in her office, with the curtains firmly pulled shut and taped so that they wouldn't drift to the side and give people the ability to look in and see what Xzandr was up to. Still, she knew who was knocking. She did, after all, have interns who needed her, and as much as she wanted to just brood all by herself until she was told either way- either the kid would definitely die or definitely live- she could not, as a doctor, neglect her duties. So she taught them a special knock so she would know it was them and not someone else. While she was definitely more anti-social, she was way more docile. The few who were brave enough to attempt to approach her had come to realize that, despite her threats of physical violence, she wasn't going to do shit about it. Even the interns who she used to verbally abuse on a regular basis ad become brave enough that a few asked to go home nearly every day, and Xzandr let them.

» Xzandr was nowhere near being herself. She was convinced she was going insane; once the hospital administration realized Xzandr was too much of a stubborn bitch to go home and rest like she was supposed to, they relented and gave her some cases. They were cases that she, with her level of skill, should have taken maybe a couple of hours to solve at the most, and yet, she was so unable to concentrate or thoroughly check her mental archives of diagnosis, that she was now averaging several days; at best, two days, and at worst, a week and a half. She wasn't functioning at her full mental capacity, and knew it would eventually cause a patient's life if she didn't shape up, but was still unable to convince herself to tell the administrators not to give her any cases for a while. Truth be told, because of the surgery, she was actually entitled to time off for- if her calculations were correct- three or four weeks still, and yet she'd spent only the first day after her discharge at home. Sure, it still hurt like hell after that, but she wasn't going to stay at home while in pain, because there were still way too many hidden bottles of Vicodin she was tempted to ingest. So she came back to work, and has been there ever since. Not wanting to socially interact, or have to re-do her stitches twenty times, she pretty much sat in her chair most of the time, only once in a while getting up to walk around the room once or twice to prevent blood clots from forming in her legs. On the rare occasions that she wanted to sit somewhere other than her chair, she would sit next to the stain in her carpet and stare at it for hours. She had refused to let them replace the carpet, and when the administrators sent the carpet people without her consent, she chased them out with her cane- which she didn't really use anymore except to threaten with- and threats of violence. So they eventually relented and let her keep her carpet. She might eventually demand that it be replaced, but for now, it was more symbolic to her than anything. Too many things had already changed. All she wanted was normalcy; and even though her carpet had never been a huge part of her life, it was something that had been there nonetheless, and she didn't want it changed.

» The other day she tried to off herself. It wasn't a holy-flaming-Cheetos obvious suicide attempt, or one at all designed to be a spectacular display of death, but one that should have been effective, especially for a doctor with knowledge of what dosages would constitute an overdose, and how much was too much for such a thing. She'd dug the few remaining bottles of Vicodin, each with several pills in them, out of their hiding places in her desk and took all but a few pills. But, having overestimated her tolerance of the drug, she'd taken so much more than what was needed for an effective overdose that the only thing that happened was that Xzandr ended up worshiping the porcelain God until she passed out, and then being groggy all the next day. But, obviously, she'd survived. Someone downstairs- Satan- obviously wasn't ready for her. For now, even though she was pretty much sick of life, she'd given up on finding a way to off herself- for now. Someday, maybe, if she could somehow trap herself in the elevator and shoot herself or something. Right now, she had resigned herself to existence. Luckily for her, she'd taken the drugs before leaving a note to Ryan, and slipping it under his door. In a nice little envelope, sealed and with his name written on the front in uncharacteristically-for-her fancy letters, she wrote him a note saying a lot, and yet absolutely nothing. All it said was that she was going to off herself because, well, life sucked, and she was sick of it; if he wanted to keep the kid, have at it, and if he wanted to give it up, more power to him- she wouldn't care because she'd be dead. But she also said that she would have kept him, if that influenced Ryan's decision at all. She also, very bluntly, informed Ryan of exactly what she thought of him: "You're a dick. You refuse to take responsibility for your actions. Well I'm not going to force it on you. If you want to sit alone and be full of yourself, go right a-fucking-head. Damn it, Ryan, here's the out I know damn well you've been looking for: if I just so happen to piss Satan off so much that he decides he's better off with me alive, stay the fuck away from me, and from the kid." Of course, she also told him that nobody else knew it was his kid. While she might be a total bitch, and extremely pissed off at him, and she'd been tempted to "accidentally" let the little detail slip to Gregory, she hadn't- despite everything, she wasn't going to let loose the gossip-hounds on him. Damn, if she had remembered once she knew she was still alive, that she'd written such a letter, she would break into his office, take the envelope off the floor, and put it through a paper-shredder until it was impossible to piece back together.

» The kid, at this point, was around eight weeks old, and had already been through more problems than anyone should in years of life. There had been so many setbacks that, at several points, one of the nurses flat-out told Xzandr to expect the kid to die because of it. But, gosh darn it, the poor little guy was still clinging to life. The machine was still breathing for him, he was still under phototherapy lights, still hooked up to so many wires and machines. He was still on a feeding tube, and despite everything they'd done for him, he still didn't quite weigh two pounds. Xzandr had gone to visit him a few times- she wasn't completely heartless, but not by any means one of those parents that sat all day every day next to their kid- and still hadn't been told she could hold him. Not that she'd had the urge to do so, still afraid that she'd accidentally break him, but knowing that she could safely hold him without causing him too much pain or getting tangled in wires would be nice. The poor thing had even been to the OR- the other day, after having been keeping an eye on a hole in the baby's heart for several days- the doctors determined that it wasn't going to close on its own, and they would have to close it for him. Even though he came out okay and was now doing well considering the circumstances, it was by no means a safe surgery- operating on a heart the size of a grape was no easy task. It was because of all the setbacks that Xzandr hadn't even thought about naming him. Naming him would make her feel attached on some level, and then when he died- which she was still convinced he was going to, despite the fact that he'd now gone about a week without another setback- she would have a harder time letting him go. That was something she couldn't have.

» Pushing herself back from the desk, her chair rolling back, Xzandr stood and, leaning over, opened up a drawer in her desk. She was so disorganized that any sensible person would demand to know how she found anything. But dis order was her order. She knew damn well where everything was- honest. And she didn't have to waste time doing any of that ridiculous sorting- so who really was the sensible one there, hmm? Anyway, lifting up a few papers with one hand, she reached down with the other and pulled out a small plastic baggy containing a pretty decent amount of marijuana. Closing that drawer, she leaned the other way, opened another drawer, and pulled out a lighter and the weed-paper, which she then used to roll two joints. She put the one in the pocket of her white lab coat- she'd been wearing pretty much only blue scrubs and a lab coat lately, like she was now- for use later, or possibly to share. Lighting the other joint, she did the obvious with it, and then stood up and walked out of her office, stumbling her way down the hall. In her altered state, she completely overlooked the fact that, if she was caught at work being high on anything- except Vicodin, but that was a whole 'nother story- she would get her ass fired, no questions asked. She was good, but if she was on drugs, there was no amount of complicated diagnosis she could come up with that would eliminate the danger she posed to patients in this state. Luckily, there was nobody else really in the halls. She made her way all the way to Ryan's office, but at that point, she thought she saw something on the floor- there was nothing- and side-stepped so quickly that she fell hard against te door. Laughing like an idiot, she mumbled a "sorry, dude" that only she could hear, and steadied herself against the wall just beyond the door before bursting into laughter, even though nothing was particularly funny about her inability to walk right.

[ry]

The glow of the table lamp barely illuminated the desk in front of him as he sat in his darkened room, a bottle held to his lips. Perhaps a beer wasn’t the most appropriate beverage of choice considering the place, but technically, he was off the clock and so couldn’t care less. He leaned back in his leather chair, feet propped up on the desk, resting atop a pile of papers that may or may not have been important. Ever since he’d started working at this hospital, no ever since he’d met her his life had taken a drastic turn, and while he could bitch and complain about it all he wanted, he still wasn’t sure this new direction was all that bad. Perhaps it was what he needed. In the same way he needed a hole in his head or any more emotional baggage to carry with him on the deadly path called life. But today, or yesterday, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure exactly how long he’d been in his office at this point, had definitely been one of the horrible turns. The last thing he wanted to see when he unlocked his door for his first shift was an envelope shoved under the door. As far as he knew, finding envelopes with nothing but his name on it never meant anything good, not that he’d ever actually had a similar experience. Still, if he were to base all future envelope occurrences on this one, it would be a very, very bad basis. The offending object itself was lying innocuously on the corner of his desk, almost pristine except for the torn flap. Mostly he avoided looking at it, olive eyes skimming absently over the surface without really looking, but every so often his gaze snags and he stares, a million and one emotions flaring up before he can convince himself to look away. It shouldn’t matter that much, she’s fine, he knew that, he saw her appearing right as rain if not a little pissed off or whatever other emotion that fit the description, and yet his heart leapt into his throat whenever his attention slipped. The beer, while rather bland on his tongue, was sharp enough to keep him pleasantly spaced, mind wandering past inane thoughts and trivial matters. Every so often, he’ll remember that he should be home already, sitting on his own couch in the middle of his drafty apartment but before he could sum up any sort of resolve he’d lapse into another random thought process that dissolved into something that was barely conscious.

His hands absently peeled the bottle’s label as his lips set in a hard line, trying to forget the picture that was forming in his mind. He’d been up to visit the kid again; always the kid, never his, and he could never quite comprehend just how small the baby was until it hit him like a freight train as soon as he laid eyes on him again. He’d told the nurses not to tell Xzandr he’d been up there, they hadn’t asked why, probably figured it was another one of his moods, or perhaps they really didn’t care. He kept forgetting that he was supposed to be a doctor that no one really knew the kid was his and if he continued making visits, it’d begin to look a little suspicious. The gossip mills around the hospital were already flooded with rumors about who the father was, surprisingly his name hadn’t made the list or perhaps it was only omitted when he was in the general vicinity. Either way, he had no obligation toward the kid, that much had been clear in the letter. The whole thing was pretty much a big fuck off and at this moment, when his stomach was warmed by the churning of lukewarm beer, that warning was looking mighty fine. In fact, he almost wanted to send her a fucking fruit basket, now that he knew she was alive, in thanks. Sure, that might have been the beer talking, and the fact that he was still pretty pissed at the fact that she’d called him on the fact he was a piece of shit, lousy excuse for a human being. It stung, not because he felt offended, but because he absolutely could not defend himself. She’d written the truth and it was a reality he’d been perfectly content to ignore. He took another sip of beer, wincing when, in a fit of overzealous bitterness, smashed the bottle’s rim against his front teeth.

The leather of his chair squeaked in protest when he shifted his weight, bones aching from remaining in one position for more than a solid hour. He considered getting up and pacing, but he felt no real desire to actually move. All his paper work was done, neatly tucked into corresponding folders, all his consults penned down in a date book he’d been forced to buy when he missed three important appointments in a two-day period. If he were to be truly honest, the lack of anything to do was anything but relaxing, but rather filled him with a nervous energy that couldn’t be calmed. The hospital, his job, had been his life for so long he almost forgot what normal people did on weekends or after work. He hadn’t watched a full movie in who knew how long, he’d always dose off before anything really happened, and every time he started a novel he’d get pulled back into work before he finished the first chapter. His life had always been pretty blasé, at least after he’d finished medical school, and so he had nothing except his job to focus on. Now, when he needed his job to keep him from worrying himself to death, he had absolutely nothing left to do. Really, it didn’t matter if he were here or at his apartment, he’d still be bored out of his mind. At least here he could pop down to the NICU to make sure the kid was healing okay from that surgery.

Just as his thoughts were fading into an incoherent jumble, a loud thump on his door had him up and out of his seat, body at attention, muscles tensed. He thought his heart would burst out of his chest and he took a calming breath, padding toward the door with one of his patented, ‘whoever did that better have a will made out’ expression on his face as he jerked the door open. A glance back at his desk told him that in his startled state he’d knocked his beer all over those possibly important papers. He barely managed to bite back a frustrated sigh as he poked his head out, gaze scanning the area for the culprit. At first he didn’t see anyone, but the sound of laughter drew him out of his office and his olive green eyes land on Xzandr, and narrow. For a moment he can only stare, mouth agape as he tries to find a corresponding emotion, fists clenched at his side. Anger won out as he let out a disgusted chuckle, taking in her obviously smashed, most likely high state and before he knows what he was doing he had her by the arm and pulled her in the direction of his office. Jaw clenched tight, and a part of him wanted to leave her out there to be found by their superiors, he knew she’d be fired on the spot and perhaps it’s the thought of the hospital loosing such a brilliant doctor that stopped him from turning on his heel and slamming the door. At this point, that’s the only reasoning he’d consider. He licked his lips, hands coming to rest on his hips as he watched her, waiting for her to say something, do a dance, maybe even pass out. Anything that would give him ample reason to lash out at her or even throw her out of his office, consequences be damned.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

All the bullshit I can't take
It's not like me to walk away

» Not having been fully aware of anyone else's existence, Xzandr was startled when something grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her. "Shiiit," she thought, unwittingly flailing in his grasp. "The Man's got me! The man's trying to keep us all down!" "Fuck the police!" she half-shouted, stumbling back a couple steps before managing to keep herself steady- though how long that would last was anybody's guess. Sober, she would have recognized whose room she was right next to and promptly run away; even though she had no recollection of leaving him that note, she still had no desire to interact with him at all. There was no way she would ever be able to convince herself that he wasn't worth her time if she kept talking to him. Just because she was on massive amounts of Vicodin when she wrote the note didn't mean she didn't mean what she said. He was a dick. She'd handed him his ass on a silver platter. Maybe it was her own fault, constantly pushing him away- straight from the beginning she'd been trying to get him to leave her alone, starting with trying to convince him the kid wasn't his- but that didn't mean he shouldn't have tried. Any man worth his salt would have told her to shut up and let him stick around. Truth be told, if Ryan had put forth any effort at all to be there, she would have stopped trying to get him to go away.

» She stared at him for a second before her vision focused enough for her to actually see his face, but then she frowned. "Oh, come on. Chillax, man!" God, she was sounding like a hippie. If she could hear herself speak and comprehend what she was saying, she would be seriously tempted to hang herself. She hated hippies with a passion. "The world has enough troubles, maaaaan," she said, stumbling to the side. "Whoa, watch where you're going, dude," she said to the man passing behind her, that only she could see. "It's a free country, man. I can stand where I want to!" She crossed her arms, glaring at the invisible man. "How rude." Shaking her head, she uncrossed her arms, placing them on his hips, trying to mirror Ryan's position. "I can do that too, you know. We can stand here all day in The Man's institute, or we can go protest!" She was, of course, referring to protesting the war in Vietnam, which, of course, ended so many years ago that she had to be hallucinating. Man, that was some good weed. "The Man is trying to keep us all down, man. Tryin' to keep us dowwwnnnn..."

» Even sober, Xzandr's attention was hard to keep, so when she was high, it was even worse. She got off the whole hippie thing fairly quickly- almost as soon as she was done ranting about The Man- when something across the room distracted her. But then she looked over her shoulder at Ryan, and was distracted once again. Stumbling over to him, she leaned up to get a good look at his face. "I... I know you, don't I? I mean... I've totally seen your face somewhere before... Yeah... Definitely... But where? Were we... I know!" she smiled brightly. "We were in a jail cell together! For that... that thing! Assaulting the five-oh? Right! Yeah, that's it!" She laughed and reached behind him, giving him a friendly slap across the back. "How you doin' man?" This, of course, was only a fleeting made-up memory, and almost that exact second she forgot about being in jail for trying to kill the police, and reached down, trying to take off his pants. But then she let go, took a step back, and reached into the pocket of her lab coat. "I have a present for you, dude," she said, looking as though she was having trouble finding whatever it was she was looking for- even though the joint was the only thing in her pocket. Finally, she found it, and pulled it out, along with the lighter. "Try itttt," she said, holding them out toward him.

[ry]

Ry struggled to keep his breathing steady as he watched her with narrowed eyes, expression incredulous as she spoke, the words so absurd if he were anyone else he’d have laughed. Arms crossed over his chest, a feeble attempt to ensure physical and emotional distance, olive eyes focused firmly on her face, roamed over her pupils, noted the tell tale signs of someone who was under the influence of drugs. Hell, the simple fact that she was anywhere near his office was enough to alert him she wasn’t exactly in the correct frame of mind. His jaw tightened as his gaze drifted toward the letter tucked into the corner of his desk and he tried not to let the sharp words written in ink bother him too much. It wasn’t as if she’d pulled them out of thin air, to spite him, they were true so him acting all offended wouldn’t make much sense, not that anything he did ever really made much sense at all. That much had become apparent the moment he’d first stepped into that damned elevator with Xzandr. A small part of him wanted her out of his office, the hospital, his life, but he could only sigh and try to figure out how he could escape this without condemning either of their professional careers. It wasn’t as if the head honchos here encouraged drinking on the premises, and there was more than enough alcohol missing from the bottle to incriminate him, be he drunk or not. He was letting her stay, so he obviously was well on his way into drunkenness.

Lips parted but he honestly couldn’t come up with a response to her suspiciously hippie-like ramblings. He shifted uncomfortably; resisting the urge to peer over his shoulder at a man she obviously thought was there. His hands twitched restlessly and came back to rest on his hips, even as he began to feel just a bit cornered. This was his office, his safe space, a refuge that protected him against the trials and annoyances of the world outside that door. He should have just left her to wander the hospital, hoped for the sake of politeness that she wasn’t caught in her state and found some place to sober up in, and continued to drink himself to the brink before he dragged himself home and continued what he started. He gritted his teeth, starting to feel just the faintest bit angry at the fact that she was here, high, ranting about something that had happened years ago and all he wanted to do was go home. He dragged in another ragged sigh, praying to whatever deity who’d listen that he’d have enough patience to keep from snapping at her until she either got the hell out or passed out. Either way, as long as she’d stop ranting about ‘The Man’ and frankly freaking him out, he’d be good.

He swallowed, foolishly allowing his attention to drift toward his desk to the tantalizing sight of a bottle still filled with alcohol, when she was talking again, all up in his face. He frowned, shrinking away as he took a step, hands curling into nervous fists at his side. The words she spoke meant absolutely nothing to him, as shown by the incredulous look upon his face. He’d seen people high before, he was a doctor after all, but he’d never seen Xzandr high. Well, not this high. He winced at the slap on his back, consciously forcing himself not to dredge up any memories that would just upset him even further. He made an almost silent noise in the back of his throat when her hands occupied themselves with trying to remove his pants and he breathed a sigh of relief when her attention span seemed to warrant her hands elsewhere. He also took a step back, wondering if he could possibly put himself behind the desk without setting her off on a rant or something. He stopped though as she pulled the joint of her pocket and for some reason he felt the strongest desire just to do it, forget about the past and the future and everything that mattered and just get fucking high. He deserved it (well, he’d like to think he did) and really, what else did he have to loose? He licked his lower lip, an uneasy expression falling across his face. He frowned, trying to weigh his options, before he grabbed the joint and lighter from her hand before he could change his mind, lit it up and took a drag, tossing the lighter back at her. “Fine,” he said, belatedly.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

Just when I think
I can walk away

» She hadn't expected him to actually take the joint- or if he did, she half-expected him to rip it up or throw it away. Even as high as she was, she could tell he just wasn't the kind of guy to do that kind of thing normally. A wide grin spread across her lips as she watched him start to smoke. "Sweet," she said, laughing a little, and tried to catch the lighter. Of course, her reaction time sucked, and so the lighter ended up hitting the floor and scattering a few feet away. "Aw, man..." she stumbled after it and leaned down to grab it, but because her balance was so off, she ended up flopping over onto her side on the floor, laughing her ass off. "Shiiiit..." Of course it didn't hurt. If she were sober, yeah, she'd be wanting to down about an entire bottle of Vicodin just to dull the pain, but because she was high, she felt next to nothing. She had enough common sense to stay down; considering that she'd just barely managed to stay upright long enough to get here, it was probably best to just stay on the floor to avoid an extensive fall and probable broken bones.

» Grabbing the lighter- luckily, she still had enough sense left in her to know that she didn't want her ass lit on fire- she scooted over to Ryan's desk and set the lighter on it, then stayed put, her back braced against the desk. She looked Ryan over with a huge grin. "Been a while since I've been here..." Ah, finally, a memory that wasn't fabricated in the reefer factory. No, she wasn't sobering up by any means. It's just that... Well, it was a highly familiar place. She couldn't even count the number of times she'd dragged Ryan to the floor- sometimes behind the desk, sometimes here in front of it- for a quick fuck before one of them had to go tend to regular doctor-like duties. It wasn't the only place, obviously. Sometimes- only once or twice, as her memory told her- it was her own office, though not nearly as frequently. Then there were the empty offices, empty patients' rooms, empty exam rooms when the ER was having an exceptionally slow day... And how could she forget the janitor's closet? That was, after all, how their current predicament- the as-of-yet-unnamed child still fighting for his life- had happened.

» Even high, she couldn't forget all those random fuck sessions... And damn, did she miss them. Sighing a little, the weed seriously altering what could well be the very fiber of her being, she looked away. "Damn... I actually kind of... miss it here, you know?" She "drew" invisible patterns on the carpet with the tip of her index finger. "You ever wonder... what if?" She looked him over, then saw the corner of the desk in her peripheral vision and twisted her body around, extending her arms to the side and pressing herself up against the desk, as if hugging it. "Oh, this desk is so sexy... I'd totally tap that..." Letting hot of it, she looked back at Ryan. "You're so hooooottttt..."

[ry]

He inhaled, resisting the urge to throw the joint to the ground and gag. It had to be said that Ry had never, once, in his life ever picked up a joint. There’d been that whole attempted overdose ordeal years ago, but as far as drugs went, he hadn’t had the pleasure of ingesting anything recreational. Still, once he got over the initial shock, he relaxed, letting the chemicals seep into his bloodstream and loosen him up. A vague part of his mind reminded him that Xzandr was probably the last person he should be high around, perhaps even be around at this moment. This whole situation was probably something Ry should have avoided when it was even hinted at, perhaps he’d of been better off if he’d just skipped the elevator the day he met Xzandr, or maybe it was some bullcrap like fate and he’d have met and fucked her regardless of where he happened to meet her. Brows rose as he watched her attempt to catch the lighter, and after another puff, he was giggling quietly as she sprawled on her ass. “Nice one,” he teased, his tone drawn out as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to end his statement or not. He ran his tongue over his teeth, grasping the joint awkwardly in his hand as if he wasn’t quite sure of the mechanics and cast a curious look toward Xzandr, wondering if he should sit down too, but wasn’t able to contemplate that long enough before he began to wonder where he got his curtains. “Those are some nice curtains,” he remarked, thrusting the joint in the direction of the window on the far side of the room. “Real nice, not too frilly, y’know? Frilly curtains are a drag man, a drag,” he nodded, as if making the most important speech of his life before taking another drag from his joint and turned back toward Xzandr with an expectant expression on his face.

Ry inhaled, resisting the urge to place his hands on his hips. Someone told him it made him look like an old granny, he couldn’t exactly remember whom, but the reminder was enough to keep his arms firmly planted at his side, at least the one that wasn’t lifting the joint to his lips. His eyes widened slightly as he took in her words, and for a moment his head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to recall exactly what those words meant. “Yeah me too,” he drawled, then paused and shook his head. “Wait no, see this is my office, I come in here every day. Every single day, every one. But you, you don’t.” he ended in a definitive tone as if this were new information. “You used to,” he added. “Those were good times, yeah?” he grinned, the corners of his lips twisting upward to the side in a vaguely sleazy way.

He took a few steps closer, trying to decide if flopping down unceremoniously would be a good choice or not. The carpet looked comfy enough, but you never knew what kind of dirt he tracked in when he walked in. He squinted at the mentioned floor space, as if trying to pick out individual germs. Eventually her voice distracted him from trying to ignite flames with his eyes and he happily turned his gaze to her. He thought about answering her, but just as he was formulating a reply, he began to wonder if the carpet had always been that color and she’d changed topics. He smiled, and without another thought let his legs crumple beneath him and collapsed to the ground in an ungainly heap, although he kept his joint well out of harms way. “Inno, right?” he smirked, ‘you’re no slouch yourself,” he added as if his opinion was to be revered. He scooted a little closer and sneezed.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

I'm so addicted to
All the things you do

» Xzandr laughed as Ryan fell down- a really hard laugh, as though he was a comedian telling a particularly hilarious joke. Actually, even if she were to be sober she would probably laugh at Ryan falling down, but only because she was a horrible person that always laughed at things that nobody really should. She had been known to laugh at the most inappropriate things, such as serious movies of a historical nature like a war movie, one that laughing at it would completely offend the veterans. But she didn't care. There were a lot of things Xzandr didn't care about, with offending people at the top of the list. You don't like something she says or does? You can get the fuck out. She wasn't tying anybody down and verbally abusing them; sure, she would verbally abuse someone, but in all actuality, these people had every opportunity in the world to walk away. She might follow them for a short while, but she would likely get bored quickly and wander off to do something else.


» "I can't... What?" She looked at Ryan, a little confused at first. "Oh, this is your office... Cool... I love what you've done with the place... Did Martha Stewart design this?" She took a look around, even though (sober) she could probably describe in incredibly accurate detail what it looked like; and it was definitely not a Martha Stewart creation. "Yeah, man... I used to practically live in this place... What happened?" Sober, she wouldn't even need to ask that. They both knew damn well why she didn't drop by for regular visits anymore.

» But then her next thoughts went to protecting the weed (even though it wasn't hers to smoke anymore.) Even though Ryan was obviously already on the floor and had his joint secure and safe from getting damaged, Xzandr's reaction time was incredibly slow, and it took her a few seconds to dive forward in a hapless attempt to help him save the joint. Of course, she didn't make it all the way to him, with her one hand stretched out toward him, she was on her side on the floor, only inches from her original spot by the desk. "Careful, dude," she said with another laugh as she sat up again, satisfied that his marijuana was okay.

» Xzandr then noticed that Ryan had scooted closer to her, and returned the favor, scooting closer to him so that, if she were any closer, she'd be on his lap. "This flooooooor," she said, holding the O sounds for an unnecessarily long time. She then leaned back, laying down on the floor, and spread her arms out. "It's so soooooft." It wasn't really. In fact, there were a few times that she had complained about how rough it was one of her little visits to Ryan- though part of it was probably their fault so being so rough. "Like laying on a cloooouuuuudddd." She stared up at the ceiling and frowned. "Damn... no stars out tonight..." She turned her head back towards Ryan, and grinned evilly. "You have an amaaaazing ass."

[ry]

Any other time Ry would possibly have been pissed off at the fact she was laughing like a lunatic after he’d taken a fall that could have resulted in a series of broken bones. Actually, he probably never would have fallen if he hadn’t been well on his way to being the highest he’d ever been (or simply high) in his life. Still, it was a good thing he was currently sheltered by the soothing fumes that clouded his lungs, or he might just have been hurt by her seeming indifference to his rather unfortunate incident. He sighed, a long-suffering exhalation fit for a martyr or someone who’d just lost everything in the world and then watched their dog be run over. Perhaps a bit overdramatic, but apparently that’s the mood that fit when he was high, who’d of thought it. He wondered how much energy it would take to flop on his back and then wondered if he’d burn his eyes out if he accidentally dropped the joint and now that he got to thinking about it, he really liked his eyes, they were perfectly for doing stuff like seeing. Hadn’t failed him yet, except that one time at a birthday party someone had thought it would be fun to blindfold him. He frowned, trying to remember if the kid’s nose had actually broken or if the hideous swelling was worse than it looked. Still, he couldn’t fault his eyes they’d tried their best. He gave himself a little nod, internally assuring his eyes that he didn’t blame them for what had happened.

Ryan gave a snort at the mention of Martha Stewart and muttered something along the lines of ‘you think Martha Stuart could do this?, this was all me’ or something like that. His face scrunched up like a small child trying to figure out a complex problem, which was exactly how he felt right about now. “Maybe you didn’t like my curtains,” he suggested, shooting an appreciative look toward the curtains that were becoming more and better looking by the moment. He turned his gaze back to her, exhaling softly and letting his eyes cross as he tried to follow the trail of smoke.

Brows rose as he watched amusedly, a bemused grin falling across his face at her dive. “Thanks man,” he said, with a tone that made it sound as if she’d saved the joint from hitting the ground. Which it hadn’t, it was still wedged firmly between his fingers and he wasn’t planning to let it go anytime soon, as if to prove this he took another inhale, closing his eyes in contentment. Only to open them a second later as he watched her scoot closer. He cast a look to the floor as if he’d never seen it before in his life, his gaze calculating and a bit critical. Hesitantly he ran his fingers over the carpet and his brow furrowed but a smile came onto his face. “’s exactly like laying on a cloud…,” he said with such conviction that for a moment he almost believed he’d lain on a cloud before.

His eyes widened and he craned his neck around hoping to catch a glimpse of his ass. “Really, you think so?” he exclaimed, his voice awestruck, as if having a great butt would be the most wonderful thing in the world. “Gosh,” he added, his brows creasing as he tried to remember the last time he’d ever said that and when he failed to do so promptly moved onto another thought. “Oh hey,” he grinned, scooting even closer and peering down at her. He maneuvered so that he hovered over her, one arm on the other side, although it looked as if he could fall at any moment. “I’ve wanted to do something,” he frowned, trying to remember what it was. “I can’t remember what it is, wait…wait, oh I got it!” he grinned before leaning down and planting a kiss on her lips, not the most romantic one in the world, and he may have missed half her lips, but he’d reached his intended target.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

When you're going down on me
In-between the sheets

» She turned her head to look at the curtains and made a face. "Yeah, that must be it," she said in a half-confused tone. "I don't really like that color... Or that fabric... It looks like the carpet in a nursing home... Not that I've ever been in one." She paused for a second, as if contemplating this. Had she ever been in one? Certainly not for herself, as she was neither incredibly old or incapacitated, but maybe she'd gone there for a grandparent? Some sort of relative? Maybe a class field trip? No, that couldn't be it. Her grandparents had died years before she came along, she was pretty sure, and there really were no other relatives. Class trip? No, that couldn't be it either. The only schools that really went on field trips that didn't involve museums were elementary schools, and what kind of elementary school would take its students to see old people? Kids that age would just automatically shout about how badly it smelled there, or ask stupid questions that really had no place in such a building. Shaking her head, she broke herself off from that train of thought and looked back at Ryan.

» "Yeah, dude... Your ass is like... the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life." Sober, she probably could have rattled off an infinitely long list of things way more interesting to her than Ryan's ass, Rosie O'Donnell's eating habits among them. Well, yeah, sober she would readily admit that she liked Ryan's ass, it just wasn't the most interesting thing in the world. "You should be an ass model." Did such a thing actually exist? Underwear models, yeah, but ass models? Maybe in Playgirl or some other all-dudes smut magazine. She'd buy one if Ryan were in it.

» She just kind of stared at him as he hovere

d over her, genuinely confused as to why he might be there. What did he want to do? What was he talking about? "Did you want to wrestle or something?" she offered, hoping it would spark his memory. "Cause like, I have a bad leg, and that makes wrestling kinda hard-" She was cut off by his kiss. She paused for a second, a little shocked, but then kissed him back and grinned. "Guess that's not all that's hard." Even high, Xzandr couldn't resist a dirty joke like that. She kissed him again, then started reaching for his pants.

YEAH. THE SEX GOES HERE. GUESS WHICH POSITION.

» Man, that was great. Great weed. Great sex. Could they have had one without the other? Judging by the hostility between them before they were both high, probably not. But that didn't change how great it was. Too bad they were both high at the time. She had fallen asleep with him right there after they were done, and assumed he did too. That's what was different between now and the other times (besides the weed); they had never hung out afterward, or fallen asleep together. It was always just sex, maybe a couple of words about something totally unrelated, and then one or both of them would walk away.

» She finally started sobering up around midnight, when she opened her eyes and groggily lifted her head up to take a look around. Damn, the last detail she could remember before everything went fuzzy was pulling out a lighter... Was she in hell? A quick glance to the side told her that no, she wasn't, but this was damn close to it. "Shit!" She barely managed to stifle herself so she wouldn't immediately wake Ryan up. Oh, shit, here they were on his floor again, and she couldn't remember very much at all. The details would come later, she knew. Not many, but a few key points at least. For the time being, however, she knew nothing, and the only reason she didn't immediately bash Ryan's skull in for "taking advantage" of her was because a few feet away, she saw the remnants of a joint, and assumed he had been high too. Of course! There was no way they'd have done this if he was sober.

» Sighing, she knew she had to get out of there before he woke up. Maybe she would get lucky and he wouldn't remember anything, and just be weirded out when he woke up naked on the floor. Banking on that possibility, Xzandr laid perfectly still, and plotted her escape. The sudden absence of her body heat might wake him up; she lifted her head up to see if any of his clothes were nearby. Luckily, his pants were in reach, so she grabbed them and pulled them over. Gently scooting away, she stuffed his pants in between them, hoping that would suffice for her absence. She scooted further away- ow, more rug burn- before getting up slowly, and scrambling to get her clothes as quietly as possible. She must have set a record of some sort the way she got dressed so quickly, even though her leg was throbbing like a son of a bitch.

» She hobbled her way over to the door and started to open it, but then paused, looking back at Ryan. This would be an excellent time to mess with him. She could sit in his chair and watch him until he woke up, then make up stories about what he'd done, and who with. Or she could blast a stereo right next to his head... No, that would be cruel. She had a massive headache, and assumed he might too. She turned back around, feeling a little spacey, and when she went to open the door, she opened it right into her face because she forgot to step aside. "MOTHERFUCK-" she started to shout, then caught herself, knowing that alone was probably enough to wake him up, and stepped out, making a beeline down the hall. If purely because Ryan was still naked, she would have a head start, even though he could outrun her any day. Now just to find a place to escape to. Her office was way too obvious. The bathroom was way too obvious. Janitor's closet? No. Where could she go that he wouldn't? ...The one place she didn't want to be, but where she just assumed he wouldn't go- nobody had informed her he'd been there, so she just assumed he never went. She found herself in the NICU, though not completely in it; more just that little room with the sinks, where people are supposed to wash their hands and get suited up before entering the room with the incubators. Yeah, that's where Xzandr ended up, leaning on the sink, breathing heavily. "Damn it," she breathed, and stood up, rubbing the back of her neck.

[ry]

Ryan followed her gaze to the curtains but at her remark he stage gasped, appearing all the world as if the fact that she didn’t like the curtains offended him on a deeply moral level. He seemed to have forgotten that they’d just discussed the curtains seconds before and that he hadn’t seemed too bothered by the fact that they might have been the cause of Xzandr’s absence from his office. “It does not!” he protested, although he had never been to a nursing home himself, so really, that could be an exact replica from some old lady’s room and he’d never know. Almost as soon as the outrage at her disapproval of the curtains had come on, it dissipated and he stared lazily around his office, wondering if that stain on the ceiling had always been there or if he was imagining it and if that coat rack had always looked like moose antlers – or weren’t they all supposed to? He couldn’t remember although he was absolutely sure he’d heard that tidbit of information somewhere, perhaps a seminar on coat racks or something. In his current condition, he was in no state to question if there even was any coat rack conventions, much less if he’d even been to one.

His gaze continued to attempt to pinpoint his ass – the ass in question, but by this point, he was only making himself dizzy. There was a slight grin on his face, as if the notion that his ass was amazing was infinitely pleasing. It probably was. No one had ever commented on his ass before to his knowledge so he felt a preening sort of pride at the compliment. His grin slipped off his face and his expression sobered, olive eyes trained on her face as she spoke. “Y’know,” he started, pointing a finger at her. “I always wanted to be one of those,” he exclaimed, with some drugged up conviction lacing his voice.

At some point he actually managed to situate his lips all the way on hers even though his conscious was shouting dimly about how wrong it was, how big a mistake and how hard she would probably slap him when they both sobered up. Still, he could barely hear that voice because a, he was kissing Xzandr and b, well, he was high.

……………………

Ry inhaled deeply, sleepily aware of the fact that this definitely didn’t smell like his house. It smelled like weed, old office files and the sort of air freshener he used sometimes in his office. His brow furrowed slightly but he didn’t open his eyes, the alarm clock hadn’t gone off yet so it couldn’t possibly be time to get up yet. And these past few weeks, he’d take all the sleep he could get. He shifted, something that definitely wasn’t bed sheets chafing across his bare skin. His frown deepened.

He hovered somewhere between consciousness and sleep for a few minutes, the gradually increasing pounding behind his eyes only another deterrent to keep him from opening his eyes. Hangovers were nothing new to Ry, he’d woken up half his life with them, granted most of them were on weekends and even then getting drunk was usually preceded by an insane amount of time hunched over files that needed to be signed or reviewed or some other thing that his superiors wanted done to them. His nose scrunched up, as if some bad smell had invaded his nostrils but was actually just a reaction to the steady drumbeat taking residence behind his left eye. Absently, sluggishly he made a vow to himself never to get drunk again, that headache had to be from a bottle of Jack Daniels, although chances were he’d just go out and snag something from the liquor store before the end of the day. Or night. He couldn’t tell what the current time was and that bothered him, just a little bit.

His eyes flickered open, the hazy veil of drowsiness preventing him from really taking in his surroundings. His stomach rolled and he clenched his jaw, blinking warily. The first thing that came to his mind was that he definitely was not back in his apartment, curled in his nice cotton sheets. His fingers curled experimentally and he wondered for a moment if he’d fallen asleep on the carpet in his living room. No, the color didn’t quite fit. While his mind was beginning to wonder what the fuck had happened he couldn’t convince his body to relinquish it’s lazy hold on stillness, so he concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to sort his thoughts into something that resembled coherent.

The shout, although cut short, frayed his nerves and he bolted to his knees, casting a feral look around the room, head swirling. And then he noticed that he was decidedly lacking of clothes and swore, a word that pediatrics would probably fry him alive for using if he’d been anywhere near and grabbed his pants, shoving them on so roughly he almost tore the seams. Waking up naked on the floor of his office was not something that he’d ever wanted to do and now that he had, he knew why. His skin chafed from where he’d shifted in sleep and he was pretty sure he’d smell like that stupid cleaner they’d used on it, that and smoke and other assorted scents the stupid thing picked up. He grabbed for his shirt somewhere across the room and tugged that on, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. He headed toward the door but froze, his feet haphazardly shoved into his shoes when the memories started to trickle through. Xzandr. She’d definitely been there. His gaze shifted around the room and landed on the joint and his mouth dropped open. Oh shit. So that explained the headache. And the nakedness. He wanted to cry. And then punch something or someone. His lips pulled into a taunt line as he marched out of his office, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the in the window frame tremble.

He wandered for a while, not wanting to find her, but needing to at the same time. He could guess where she went, maybe because that’s the first place he thought to head as well. Anyone passing by would have noted the expression on his face, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a dark frown, eyes a steely glint of anger and confusion and the soft edges of embarrassment. His gait wasn’t as fast as he wanted it to be, just a rambling walk that he usually used when going from room to room. The hallways of the hospital faded until he was just moving through them blindly, reacting on muscle memory and partial awareness. What the hell would he say? Nothing, something, anything. He didn’t know. He was angry, at himself, at her, at well, anyone who happened to be in his path.

He’d reached the NICU and stood wavering in the door, watching Xzandr from what he could see through the room’s window. He hesitated, almost turning to go but stopped his hand on the doorknob. He pulled and entered, not fully, in the doorway with his body keeping it from closing. A fist clenched at his side and he cleared his throat, wanting to say something but not wanting to be the first because he’d probably yell. The NICU wasn’t a good place to yell, he didn’t think.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

Oh the sounds you make
With every breath you take

» Xzandr wasn't sure why this was her location of choice. She could easily have gotten away with going to her office; it probably would have been better, because it was so obvious that she'd go there that Ryan, if he followed, would know she's smarter than that and look for her elsewhere. But then again, she highly doubted Ryan would follow. She suspected he would be pissed- who wouldn't be if they woke up naked on their office floor?- but didn't have him pegged as the type to actually want to talk about it. If anything, she figured they'd bump into each other in the hall, and he would yell at her then. Oh, she had all kinds of things she was ready to throw at him when the time came; everything from complete denial to brushing it off as nothing, to turning the anger on him. Hey, he didn't have to take the joint and smoke it. He would have known she was higher than a kite, and that any decision she tried to make would be rock-fuck stupid. Yes, she could completely blame the whole thing on him. But would she?

» She stumbled forward a little upon hearing Ryan clear his throat. "Fuck," she mumbled under her breath. She wanted- needed- more time to think before dealing with him. Even though she had plenty of stories ready, plenty of ways to shift the blame off of herself or pretend it never happened, they were all half-baked, and even Ryan would be able to see right through them. She reached out and turned the water on, deciding to pretend as though she hadn't heard him- even though she had already reacted to his presence, which she realized with a sigh. Half watching him out of the corner of her eye and half paying attention to washing her hands. "Yes?" she asked innocently, with an air of irritation in her voice. Okay, she was going with denial. Had he actually seen her face as she left? Maybe not. Could he actually prove it was her that got him high and then fucked him? "Little busy here," she said, turning the water back off and sliding on some gloves, without looking, and thankfully not using the latex ones to which she was allergic. She half turned to him, grinning a little at his expression. "You looked exceptionally pissed today. What's the occasion?"

» She turned back away from him, sliding on one of the gowns everyone has to wear when they go into the actual NICU. She would put on a mask, too, but she was too lazy to find one, and besides, other than the headache from the weed-hangover and a rug burn on her back, she was perfectly fine. If she got yelled at, she would tell them to fuck off. She wasn't in the mood to put anything else on. "Son of a bitch!" she snapped, squirming and trying to grab the strings to tie the gown in the back. She hated these things; it was always so hard to tie them. She almost considering demanding that Ryan tie it for her, but then she got it, and all was right with the universe.

» She froze, and sighed. Oh, this was useless. She knew damn well what was wrong. Why bother denying it? Maybe she could hope for the next-best thing: passing it off as not a huge deal. "Alright, fine. Yes, it was me. I was high. I gave you a joint. You got high." She turned to him, arms crossed, expression blank. "So we fucked. Whatever. Not a huge deal." At that point, she started walking and brushed past him on the way out. "Meaningless, right?" She asked, halfway looking over her shoulder. "Like always?" She stopped there, as if his response mattered. She already knew- or thought she knew- what Ryan would say. She figured he would pretend to deny that it was meaningless, but she would be able to see right through him and know that it was. For him, at least. She... just wasn't so sure.