The Drunkard And The Alien Quest - 3rd Drink
YourAndYourWaifu !!S7iWoz56vJi ID:Wa3YiacK No.5387464 View ViewReport Quoted By:
You scrambled to grab the notebook Cleopatra gave you, swinging open the pages and pushing a pencil with gold-painted letters and rich dark graphite to sketch the walls and the roof of your house as well as Mary’s taxicab and some triangle-and-stick trees. You held up the book to face Cass; you tapped the pen’s dull end across the illustration. “The house, why did you come to -my- house, gal?” You put it from the paper and to your chest, “My house. Do you understand what I’m asking you?!”
From within her lips puffed up another scintillating bubble. It grew until it was as big as her eye, and then it, like an amoeba, split up from the rest of her body. It hung in the air between you, auburn colours and lines forming into quavering shapes worse than yours by a minuscule extent. You sketched the symbols given before, and as it did, the bubble popped. You turned away from the alien woman to chew over the outlines and patterns instead. You scratched your neck with the—seeming—high-priced pencil.
Then, it hit you. The last week of your life. “No way,” you muttered, “is that supposed to be me, drinking? Is the reason I had no hangover at all for the last seven days is … you? Visiting me every fucking night?”
All she did was blink in her usual, unusual, cryptid way. Her lips were closed tight and her bulging arms were twisted down her dress to her knees.
She did not speak, or understand U.S. English. You -knew- that, yet you spoke in anger anyway; she was just another prohibition agent.
“Do you realise how creepy that is? You broke into my house seven times! Fuck, let’s leave that aside. I don’t like the bottle-ache, but I like to drink, you piece of ooze, I love to be fried and stuffed and all the rest of slang alternatives. What is it to you, huh? I’m not the only man tipping a few, why did you come to me? Do you want the addresses of others? I can give them to you. You want names?”
She opened her lips to speak, but the second bubble was near-identical to the first, the shapes included.
You crumpled the page in your shaking hands before turning it over. You sketched down One Two’s figure: all creepy and dark.
“Do you know anything about this guy? Have you, perhaps,” you bit your lip and whistled in, mocking her, “met him before, is he a close acquaintance of yours?”
Cass made another bubble, symbols of which you did not bother to redraw because you were still angry, or because they made no sense—or both.
> Leave Cass alone in the house; if she gets caught, whatever, as long as you are far away from her as possible.
> Sketch down a bobble and then cross it over multiple times. Makes it clear to Cass that you don’t want to be sobered.
> How did she even get into your house when all the doors and windows were locked anyway? Sketch that question somehow.
> [Write In]
