Everything was spinning.
She groaned as she clutched her head, sitting on the ground and leaning back against the bathroom wall, as she tried to glare up at the man standing above her. Chance was a nice guy for what he did, and she could totally dig his "I-can-do-anything" attitude, because he probably could. But right now the "I-told-you-so" look he was giving her was really annoying.
"H-How the hell does he do that? Put all that away?" Wow she sounded like shit. Her words were slurred slightly and her voice was hoarse and so not like her. She sounded like she had a fucking frog in her throat! Chance gave a small smile and shrug. "Years of practice."
That calm, all knowing attitude that most older guys had always pissed her off. But on Chance it worked. She respected the guy. He was cool. She'd seen him take down six armed guys by himself while his hands were tied together and he had a shot leg. The dude was awesome. Better than the ex slowest cop on the block, Winston.
She groaned lightly as she twisted her body, her arm slung over the toilet. Gross! It didn't stink at least. It was a clean bathroom across from Miss Pucci's office. So of course it was going to be kept as clean as a whistle and look like the kind of bathroom you'd find in a fancy hotel or restaurant. Damn thing even had a shower in it! Which she would be using once she could get to her feet.
With the thought of trying to stand came the image of the room spinning again which lead to her stomach lurching. Scrambling, she clutched at the side of the toilet and shook as she hunched herself over the toilet and vomited up last nights dinner and possibly some of the scotch and tequila she'd shot down.
She wasn't sure how much she drank. She lost track after her eighth shot, trying to keep up with her challenge of the night. She was a good drinker. She could hold herself well enough. But her competitor didn't seem to have even a buzz after their sixth shot! No indication that they felt any of the alcohols effect!
That had prompted her to keep going. They had to show some sign of feeling the alcohols effect! They had to! After her eighth shot everything blurred and when she woke up this morning, she seriously had no fucking clue how she'd ended up in Chances room, sleeping at the end of the bed with Carmine licking her face. Eww. Nothing like dog breath to wake your drunk ass up. The dog was awesome but he seriously needed a doggy breath mint.
Chance wasn't to sure how she got there either. He had been out to eat with an old acquaintance, someone from his super mysterious past who wasn't a baddie, and had said finding her half dressed and passed out on his bed had been one hell of surprise. To her own surprise, he had let her sleep. He hadn't moved her at all like the other guys probably would have by force or waking her up in a not so friendly way.
That was pretty awesome of him. "T-Thanks," she coughed out between gags, trying to calm her stomach and get her breathing back to normal, "F-For being aw-awesome and l-letting me stay in your r-room, man." She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and blanched from the after taste. Totally alcohol she was spewing out now. Amazing how the sight of a dead body or a man getting his stomach chewed out by rats, never even made her bat an eye and gag, but the burning after taste of vomit and alcohol could make her want to throw up again. Weird, right?
Chance nodded and gave a lopsided but still slightly warm, smile as she was able to pull herself to her feet finally, clutching the wall for support. Fuck her head hurt. "Well you arn't the first one to fall prey to his game," he gave her a secret smile, as she fixed him with a scowl. "Don't feel bad about losing, Ames."
Ames grunted unladylike and held her head as she took a few steps out the door, Chance backing up to give her room to exit the door, only to jump as she clutched her stomach and hurled, sending it flying at his shirt. He blinked and sighed as Ames coughed and clutched the door frame and cursed. "Shit!"
Chance dryly looked down at his ruined white shirt and sighed. "Now do you understand why nobody around here challenges Guerrero to a drink off?" She fixed him with a pathetic look and childish pout, as he escorted her back into the bathroom to lay against the toilet before removing his button down shirt.
She was going to need to be there for a while and he needed to change shirts and shower afterwards.
Just a one-shot idea brought to me by tree979 in the Human Target forum discussion topic Requests and prompts. The suggestion was "Ames Pukes on Chance" and this image came to mind. Kind of different, really. Anyway! Please enjoy :)