Paige Guthrie was drunk.
Not drunk in that slightly giggly sort of way that usually led to people wearing a cute rosy blush and an idiotic smile. Oh, no. Not her. She was drunk in that bent-over-the-loo, spewing out her innards sort of way.
Jonothon had made the mistake of asking her earlier how many drinks she'd had.
"Countin' this one?"
//Yep. Countin' that one.//
... Bloody beautiful.
And so he'd wound up babysitting, more or less, keeping an eye on Paige so that she wouldn't end up doing anything she would absolutely regret in the morning. Watching her throw up, lecturing her about her attempt to drink away her problems, listening to her sob about how life wasn't fair... Those were absolutely Jono's idea of a good time. Right.
He was already well aware of how unfair life was. Really, now.
He'd shown her to her room, promising to talk with her after she'd slept off the effects of the alcohol, and had found himself more than a little surprised to see that Paige Guthrie's dorm room was... Well, it was something of a disaster area. Stupidly, he'd wandered inside, picking up a copy of some play by Shakespeare to poke at, making small talk.
//I'm surprised it's...//
//Yer would have to straighten up to earn a mess. Maybe if yer spent less time studying?// It was just a suggestion, really. Paige was easily the most bookish person he'd ever met. That was possibly just part of what had caught him so off-guard about stumbling across her in the first place, drunk and sprawled out on top of the pool table in the rec-room.
She put a hand on his arm from behind. If Jonothon Starsmore had been lucky enough to still have a heart in his chest, right about then would have been where it might have made a bolt for the door without him.
"Maybe, Jonothon," she mused, "Ah just haven't found somethin' more interesting than studying." Her fingers drifted along the length of his arm, to rest on his hand. "Yet."
//Paige, yer drunk.//
Too close. She was getting entirely too close for comfort.
"Am I, Jono?"
It was absolutely no coincidence that, not long afterwards, the girls' dormitory exploded.
[Establishy, NFB, NFI, all that good stuff. Lifted shamelessly from Generation X issues five and six, though OOC comments are welcome anyhow, why not?]
- The Massachusetts Academy, Into the wee hours of Thursday morning