I down the very last shot glass that is on the table.
I then stand and fall backwards.
"Whoa there." Says a voice from behind me as someone catches me.
I drowsily turn and find Indy standing over me, supporting me with his hands on my waist.
"Hi there Indiana Jones!" I giggle, waving several fingers.
"C'mon Marion, we've gotta get you home before your father skins me alive." He whispers in my ear.
"Alright, alright." I say grumpily.
I start to walk and then find myself tripping over my shoeless feet.
"Why is the ground moving?" I ask Jones, looking curiously at the floor.
"Marion, you're drunk." He explains.
"Yes, yes I know." I say tiredly, as if this is no news.
I try walking forward again and find myself smacking into the wall.
"Ow. Shit." I moan, clutching at my bruising nose.
"Come here." He says, picking me up and holding me in a cradle position. I put my arms around his neck and lay my dizzy head on his shoulder.
I close my eyes and I feel him kick the door to the kitchens open. He grabs my coat from the coat room and walks me out into the street.
A blast of warm summer evening air engulfs us and my vertigo increases even though I have my eyes closed.
"You sure know how to entertain people." I hear him say, readjusting me in his arms.
"Hey, I'm an entertaining person." I say back feebly.
"That was...really brave. I've never met a girl who could handle alcohol that easily. Have you drank before?"
"Surprisingly, no. And please don't call it brave. Stupid, maybe, but not brave."
He chuckles and his breath tickles my ear. "But still, it was damn interesting to see a puny, seventeen year old girl beat a buff eighteen year old man in a drinking contest."
I smile to myself and nod.
I hear him enter through the back door, probably wanting to avoid questions from the house staff.
"What time is it?" I mutter, noticing my speech is a tad-bit slurred.
"About eleven thirty. Your dad should be home any minute now."
"No he won't." I assure Indy. "Last time, he didn't come back till the next morning. After the conference, the old men always play cards and gamble."
"How do you know this?" He asks, stopping on the stairway to look down at me.
"Carrie and I spent years studying the art of the conference." I say melodramatically.
"Ah."
A few seconds later, I hear the creak of my bedroom door and his footsteps.
"Alright, we're here." He said, lightly dumping me on my bed.
"I'm freezing." I say. My dress is a strapless after all.
"Well, here, take your blanket." He says, tucking it around my chin.
"Thanks." I rasp.
"Now, listen." He says, reminding me of a younger version of my father. "You're going to feel like absolute shit tomorrow, so stay in bed. I'll tell Abner you caught a cold. If he comes up, well, you'll be able to at least look like you're sick."
"Are you implying that I'm ugly?" I snap, snuggling into the blankets.
He sits down next to me on my bed.
"Far from it." He answers sincerely, and then with a sardonic smile, adds, "You clean up pretty good Ravenwood."
"Where have I heard that before?" I pretend to ponder, before poking him in the arm.
After a few seconds of silence, I scoot over on the bed (it's a king size, there's enough room) and pat the spot next to me.
"You know," He begins as he lies down next to me,"People will be talking about tonight for years. About how a seventeen year old girl beat a guy in a drinking contest. Marion Ravenwood, you shame us all."
"I'm not a girl." I defend.
"But you're not a woman either." He points out.
I pout for a minute.
"Well, you're not exactly a man." I shoot back.
"I'm nine years older than you are." He says, turning from the ceiling to face me.
I think about it for a minute and then ask, "So you must have ran away long before you came to us."
He winces. "Yeah, I ran away when I was fifteen years old. I stayed at my Grandparent's house for a few years until they died. I had a job and I was going to get a place of my own afterwards, but you're dad offered for me to come here."
"So you lied about coming straight to us from your dad's." I confirm, scrutinizing him.
"Yes, but I hope you're not offended."
I glare at him, and then laugh. "I lie all the time to people and its no skin off my back."
He laughs and then stares at me.
Oh Jesus Christ, he's giving me The Stare.
The Stare is what I named the look he gives me at the strangest times. When I say something stupid, or I trip and break something. It's this intense, inexplicable gaze that combined with the hazel beauty makes me want to completely kill myself. And at the moment, it doesn't help that I'm drunk. Because then I end up voicing my thoughts under it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask quietly, almost fearfully.
His taut lips gradually twist into a wry smile. He reaches forward and brushes a strand of midnight hair out of my face, my skin tingles oddly as his fingers brush it.
"You really are something else, Marion Ravenwood." He says.
"How so?" I ask, my eyes drooping. I'm unimaginably tired.
Then he says something I can't make out. I can't tell if he's saying it to himself, or to me and I'm too drunk to hear it.
And before I can ask what it was he said, I'm asleep.
Another shot that was more than 1000 words, you guys are lucky I'm on a roll! Anyways, sorry for the delay, I've been busy.
This conversation between her and Indy should be able to explain a few questions asked in reviews. I don't remember the two people who asked about it, but it had to do with Indy's leaving home and I hope this cleared it up.
I loved writing this short and please do me the favor and review, because I promise that things are going to get exciting if you do! REVIEW!!