NOLA: Drug Argument

[amichan]

[Piecing together some snippets from a dream bit. I think this is post them finding him on the roof and getting him back. I'm fairly sure there are bits and pieces missing here and there in between chunks and I've marked them there are probably others though.] 

 

“Why did you get an upstairs apartment exactly?” Mags grumbles and she and Peanut help me up the stairs.

“You have one too,” I point out, pulling away a little to lean against the wall and look for my keys in my pocket.

“You don't have them,” Mags says, “You left with—just--” she shakes her head.

I feel Peanut phasing again. I just want to get inside and...go to sleep. The door unlocks and the outer gate does too. I move to the side as the doors are pushed open and then walk through the door, keeping one hand against the frames and then against the wall.

“Maybe I can get...” Mags says, cautiously.

“What?” I ask, flopping down on the couch for a moment to catch my breath and feel around the patching at my side, “I'll be fine.”

“Don't bull shit me,” she retorts, “You should be at a hospital getting checked up and stitched. Who knows what all is going on in there...” I think she's waving a hand at me in general, “I just...” there's the stretchy burst of magnolia and hibiscus which is her duplicating and murmuring conversation between another her and Peanut across the room.

She clicks her fingers in front of my face, “Like I said, you should be at the hospital,” I start to protest, “and before you get on that I know that's a bad idea which is why I thought maybe Andrew could come and do something...maybe...”

I slide myself slightly along the couch to get to my feet and go towards the bedroom, “Just let me sleep. I've been dealing with this shit longer than you have.”

“Sleep?” she snaps, closing the distance again, “You're—you're not going to fix this with what—with the needles in your room. Kieran, please--” she grabs for my arm but I push her away and get to my door.

“Just--” I wave towards her, “leave it.”

“Can you even--?” she says, as I push open the door.

“Can I what?”

“Oh, forget it. I can't even—and you'll probably not remember anyway. I bet you missed half of what I said before.”

I close the door and lock it.