A/N: Thank you WeLoveWeLive – I was literally sitting here after writing all night (it's now 6:30am) and waiting for a review because I seriously can't think of anything. Five seconds later I get a wonderful little email from you – thank you thank you thank you! (weird – all my notes seem to rhyme…) I'm not sure if I like the moving in idea so I might change it, and since I'm not totally sure yet we'll go back to Raoul. Rewarding you with that fop hardly seems appropriate, but, oh well, thank you again! Please keep all the reviews up cause they make my day!
Disclaimer: I'm too happy to be sad about disclaimers. I don't own LND. Darn.
Raoul was sitting in a bar, as usual, and drinking something… he didn't actually know what it was. He didn't actually care, either. He could feel the burning sensation in this throat that assured him it was alcohol, which satisfied his needs.
He didn't know the time, but he could see the sky was beginning to grow orange so he guessed it must be close to sunset. Which meant it was roughly seven hours since he had last seen Christine. Seven hours in this bar.
Tipping another glass to his throat and emptying it just as quickly as the last… sixty? He placed it down and requested another. When he was informed that they no longer had that particular kind of brandy – some fancy kind from Mexico – he grunted something no father should say and placed some money on the bar before standing and taking his leave. He was pretty sure he heard the bartender calling to him that it wasn't enough, but he didn't listen. He might have been imagining the entire thing, anyway, and he didn't like wasting his time on things that weren't real.
Totally and utterly drunk, he stumbled back to his hotel room. He didn't know how he possibly remembered it was his – maybe it wasn't – but the door unlocked with the key he found in his pocket, and he let himself in and tripped on his way to the bedroom. Deciding the floor was comfortable enough, he conked out.
When he awoke with yet another splitting headache, he didn't know what time it was. He was still pretty tired, so it couldn't have been too long, and it was still very dark outside. Grumbling, he stood up and immediately wished he hadn't. Rubbing his head, he rushed out onto the balcony and emptied his stomach's contents on the pavement three stories below.
Somehow getting to the kitchen, he for once in the last day drank something that wasn't alcoholic. The water chilled his burning throat and seemed to help his stomach. He found some medicine – he didn't bother to read the label, but, he figured, it had to help somehow – for his headache and then sat in a chair and thought about what to do.
Christine or his son never once entered his mind.
Finally deciding on an activity, he got to his feet and made his way down to the road, not bothering to lock his door. Clumsily walking (and tripping on more than one occasion) he finally got to his destination with a little bit of vomit on his shoe – thanks to the inconsiderate person who had puked out their window or balcony. Raoul thought that was very rude.
Letting out a sigh that he was no longer surrounded by freaks or shrieking thrill-seekers, Raoul entered the brothel.
A/N: Wow. No idea where that came from. I really hate Raoul though, so I decided to make him the evil, inconsiderate, greedy, fop he is. Hehe. Lucky me. :) Next chapter will be the move-in chapter which I'll start working on right now. If I really hate it that much, I'll come up with something else. We'll see how it works out. Once again, I beg you with all my heart to review! Press that button! It's right there! You know you want to!
