Ch 13:

Intoxicated

~Risa~

Risa sits cross-legged on the sofa in the open air living room, watching the glimmering stars beyond the roof. The catamaran bobs at the port city of Cagliari on Sardinia island, Italy. The glowing city itself stretches out either side of the boat, bustling with a nightlife nowhere near as hectic as Paris.

Once again anchored at a dock, the "cat" (short for catamaran, as Connor's father fondly called it) had it's tank refilled, and then was put to rest for the night. Connor's parents had gone to bed a little while ago, and though Connor had agreed to stargaze with Risa, had disappeared from the deck.

That is, until Risa hears a clinging thud beside her. Connor has set a tall dark bottle on the coffee table.

"Is that... wine?" Risa asks.

"Yup." And he pulls out a corkscrew, winds it down into the top of the bottle, and removes the cork with a satisfying pop.

Risa crosses her arms and leans forward, perhaps mildly intrigued.

"What are you, an alcoholic?" she quips, examining the label. "This better not be expensive."

"Forty-five bucks- or euros, I suppose- tops. Of course, this is 1.5 liters, and an inexpensive wine. We have like three bottles. My parents love this stuff."

"So this is... theirs?"

"Nice try, Ward." Connor smirks at her. "But I bought this." He sets two glasses on the table, fills each half-way, and hands her one. Risa has a suspicion that he's filled them further than usual, but accepts it anyway.

She takes a sip, and nearly grimaces from the bitterness. But Connor sits next to her and drinks his as casually as if he were a gentleman at a party, and Risa feels a determination to not be shown up. So she takes another swig, and another, until her glass is empty. And by then, the taste isn't so bad.

"Another one so soon?" says Connor, downing his to join her. He pours them both another glass, and as Risa sips her second one, she begins to feel very relaxed. She leans back into the cushions and blinks. By the time Risa finishes it, her relaxation dissolves into an electric buzz. She almost laughs, her insides warm and fuzzy despite the night breeze.

Connor must have finished his, because he pours himself a third. Risa sets her glass on the table and giggles when it nearly topples over.

"Top me off, baby," she says, and Connor complies, filling her glass to the brim and sticking his tongue out at her, which makes Risa giggle again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that downing a full glass might not be such a great idea. So she drinks half, and looks over at Connor, who pours a fourth glass for himself.

"Don't you think you'll get drunk?" Risa asks him, trying to keep an apparent slur out of her voice.

"Sure," he says, and hiccups. "That's the fun part." Then he looks at her, and Risa makes a purring noise, walking her fingers up his arm. "Damn... Mr. Lassiter, you are looking fine tonight."

"You should say the same for yourself, beautiful."

Risa leans against him, resting her hands on his shoulder. "Do you remember... when you first kissed me?"

Connor's laugh is contagious, and Risa finds herself in a fit of giggles. "You mean in the study jet? I remember I thought kissing you would be like kissing other girls- but it was so different... like bzzzow." He makes a firework gesture with his hand and takes a sip of wine. The glass nearly misses his mouth.

"A good different?" she prods, and he grins.

"Obviously." He holds up his hands. "Because I'm still here!"

Risa laughs and kisses her favorite spot- right below his ear. "Did you know... state wards learn how to dance when we're little?"

"I did not know. Thank you for my fun fact of the day."

Risa takes a sip of wine, and a little bit splashes onto her shirt. She finds that she doesn't care enough to do anything about it. "Not hip-hop or that frilly tutu one that I always hated... ballet! Yes, ballet. It wasn't aaany of that. They taught us a fancier one. The waltz."

"Am I about to receive a lesson, o waltzing expert?"

"Why, yes. Yes you are."

Risa struggles to stand, nearly tripping over the coffee table, where their poison sits in a dark 50.8 ounce bottle.

Connor grins at her, his eyes glazed, and raises a hand which she pulls. He stumbles up to join her, and they move to a free space on the deck.

"Okay, put your hand on my back- a little bit higher- good." Risa sets one hand on his shoulder and clasps his other in what should be the classic waltz pose. But, of course, it isn't, because every movement she makes feels warped and slightly out of control. She tries to explain box step, but continually forgets the parts of it, and they end up in a tangled mess.

"Okay," Connor says. "I have a better idea."

He takes Risa's hand and twirls her, but the alcohol makes her so dizzy that she holds her head and laughs. "Not better."

Finally they resolve to the typical slow dance at teenage formals, which becomes just a swaying hug on the deck. With her head on his shoulder, Risa begins to feel the buzz in her bloodstream turn into an exhilaration that emboldens her to do something else.

She kisses Connor, but then he backs away, and she nearly stumbles to the floor.

Risa glares at him, or at least tries to. "What was that for?"

He grins. "You have to catch me first."

She groans, attempting to run at him, but the ground feels like it's moving beneath her feet. Risa barely snags his sleeve before he slips away again. Connor laughs, and she finds herself laughing too as she tries to chase him around the deck. "This isn't fair!" she complains. "Don't I have rights?"

But as it's impossible for Risa to run quite right, Connor can't exactly do it either, and when he trips over his own feet, brings her to the floor with him.

"Victory!" she cheers, straddling him and leaning down so that their foreheads touch. "What's my prize, Lassiter?"

"Whatever you want, Ward." And he kisses her with an air of recklessness that she returns with her mouth. The minutes pass but Risa decides that she can't quite comprehend time anymore, because Connor only makes her feel drunker.

They're suddenly interrupted by a vibration on Connor's forefinger, and Risa sits up, feeling woozy.

Connor props himself on his elbows and giggles with a look at his hand. "Hey, someone needs me."

He pushes the little microphone. "Is this a prank call?"

"What?" says a voice on the other end. "Connor Lassiter?"

"In the flesh."

"This is Thaddeus Leroy, remember how I said I could contact you with my ring?"

"No, no... Thaddeus is dead." Connor laughs. "What are you, stupid?"

The ring is silent for a second. "Well obviously I am alive, because I'm talking to you right now!"

"Well obviously you're an imposter, stupid guy. I literally saw him fall off of a building!" He looks at Risa. "Right, Risa?"

She nods. "Yes. He is verrry dead."

The voice snickers. "I want whatever you guys are having."

"Then come join us!" says Connor. "We can have a party."

"Unfortunately," says the ring. "I am sipping a Bellini in Naples and not Cagliari. I'm sorry to say no ferries leave until morning."

"Well why did you call me, Thaddeus imposter?"

"I found an unwind underground in Italy that I think you'll be interested in."

Connor sighs. "Can I... hear it tomorrow?"

"Well, actually-" But Connor presses the microphone, ending the call.

"Man, people are annoying," he says, and takes off the ring, reaching up and setting it on the coffee table. It spins and clatters next to the wine bottle.

"What about this person?" asks Risa, pointing to herself.

Connor grins. "You can annoy me all you want, baby." And she kisses him again, inviting the night to dissolve into nothingness.

III

"Oh God..." Risa mumbles, rolling over in the sheets. Her head pounds painfully, and her mouth is so dry she can't even conjure spit. There's a mirror atop a vanity across the room, and she sits up and squints at it, unable to quite focus because her headache worsens. What happened?

She looks over at Connor, who's curled up with his back to her. White hairline seams are consistent with his shoulder blades and spine, and she resists the urge to fondly trace them.

Risa stands, and stepping over strewn pillows and blankets, makes her way to the mirror. She attempts to run her fingers through a tangled mess of hair, and adjusts her bra more comfortably. Her shirt must be somewhere on the floor, but Risa still wears a pair of

jeans, thankfully. It comes back to her that they must have gotten drunk- but her? Get drunk?

It must be true despite Risa's refusal to admit it to herself, because she feels hungover if such a word ever existed.

And that is when she races to the bathroom, and promptly throws up.

"Risa?" comes Connor from the other room, and he yelps when he sees her, rushing to hold her hair. He sits on the floor behind her, and Risa leans back into him with a groan.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, and she looks up, almost laughing at a cowlick on the side of his head.

"Not really," she admits, and finds that she can't remember anything last night past the second glass.

"Connor?" A voice calls him from outside their bedroom.

"Oh shit-" He grimaces, and then squeezes her shoulder. "I'll bring you some water and toast, which helps if you can keep it down."

Risa nods, leaning against the sink as he leaves. Beyond the door, she hears shrill snippets of, "Over half a magnum bottle of wine-" and "Could have left the boat and drowned or seriously injured yourself-"

Risa feels like she's listening in on one of many conversations that led to Connor's parents deciding to unwind him. That doesn't make their decision right, of course, but this piece of his past she wasn't a part of, and she can't help but take on an uneasiness at hearing it.

As promised, Connor warily brings her water and toast. He has a bowl of Froot Loops, and eats breakfast with her on the bathroom floor.

"I'm sorry," he says to her suddenly, looking down at his cereal. "This is all my fault."

"What is?" she asks quietly.

"I got you drunk, and now you're sick." He sounds helplessly childlike without meaning to, and Risa gives him a small smile, pulling a pink bra strap back onto her shoulder.

"I bet it's only ever this bad in the morning when you've really had fun," she says, and pokes his leg with her toe. "I know I had fun, Connor."

A smile escapes through his defenses. "Me too."

"So you can be sorry all you want but I'm still going to thank you, alright?" Risa scoots closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Connor laughs, and puts his head on top of hers. "Alright, baby."