8 glasses of water
"You walk too slowly. I can't believe it took us this long to get here."
"I have short legs."
"No you don't. I mean, you do. Compared to mine, at least. But compared to the rest of your body your legs are quite long, which is freaky, because you're so short."
"Don't call me short, Quinn."
"Don't pout, Rachel."
"It's Raquel, thank you very much. Do you have tequila?"
"I thought we'd established it's not Raquel and you're not having any more tequila."
"But Quiiiiiiinnnnn!"
"No."
"I'm thirsty."
"Drink water."
"I don't want to."
"Then stay thirsty."
"You're mean."
"I'm not."
"You are. Where's my Large Multiplex Glass?"
"You know, just because you bought it with your popcorn combo that one time we went to see MIB you don't have to call it 'your Large Multiplex Glass'…"
"I know. And Quinn, don't mock me by air quoting, that's my move. Now, where is it? I know I left it here last time."
"I know it's 'your move' which is why I'm doing it. And yes, you did leave it here. It's on the top shelf in the closet."
"In the clos- why, Quinn? Just why?"
"I don't know. I could leave it on the desk, but then it would get dusty and there's no cupboard and I just… don't know?"
"You're weird. Help. I can't reach it."
"Because you're short."
"I'm not."
"Yes you are. Here's your Large Multiplex Glass, milady."
"Ha ha. My hero."
"I try my best."
"Ok. How many shots of tequila did I have again?"
"Eight, Raquel. Why?"
"Because if I don't want to have a horrible hangover, I'm going to need to drink eight large glasses of water."
"You're gonna throw up."
"I'm not, don't be ridiculous."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not. I'm already on glass two and I'm fine."
"Here, have this trash can. I don't want your vomit on my carpet."
"I am not going to throw up!"
"Ok."
"I'm not! See, glass four!"
"Mhmm."
"Stop being lik- OH CRAP."
Disgusting sounds.
"I'd say I told you so, but that would be too mean."
"SHUT UP."
"Not saying anything."
"Hold my hai- CRAP"
More disgusting sounds.
"Do you think you're done?"
"Ugh."
"Is that a yes?"
"Maybe. Ugh."
"Let's get you to the shower then."
Showering sounds.
"I'm sorry I didn't listen, Quinn."
"Don't worry."
"And sorry I got vomit on your favorite pair of pajama pants."
"I can wash them."
"And on you, on the way to the showers."
"It's ok, I was going to shower to get the weird party smells of my hair anyway."
Silence.
"Quinn."
"Rachel."
"Who was the girl?"
"What girl?"
"The one you were crying about."
"A girl."
"I ask because I only ever drunk-cried over Finn. You know, when I loved him."
"Let's not talk about Finn, please."
"Why do you hate him?"
"I don't."
"You do."
"Not really. He's okay, just not for you. Not nearly good enough."
"It's funny. I always thought I was never good enough for him."
"Which is stupid."
"Don't call me stupid."
"I'm not. It's just that you are so amazing and incredible and talented and funny and smart and he never treated you right."
Silence.
"Thanks, Quinn."
"For what?"
"For being you. And for saying all those nice things. It means a lot. And you know, maybe one day I'll find someone who's right for me."
"You definitely will."
"You will too."
"Yeah."
"No, really. Maybe it's that girl."
"I wish."
"Talk to her."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"She's too good."
"Nonsense. She'd have to be pretty damn perfect to be too good for you."
"She is."
Snoring sounds.
"You are."
Silent tear.