Nora buried her face in her hands, already feeling a blush coming on. She was on her fifth drink now and feeling it.
"I thought it would be better off if you didn't know. You might think I've gone soft," Nora said, trying not to sound like she was whining.
"Well I think you're making a big hoopla over nuthin'. Out with it," he said sternly, and Nora briefly considered Amari's advice from earlier.
"Alright, but but keep the commentary to a minimum," Nora said. She took a big gulp of liquid courage before she spilled her guts.
"I decided to get clean today on the way back, just for a while until I'm sure I've got my head screwed on right. That's why I stopped by Amari."
Hancock didn't say anything for a moment, as if expecting something more.
"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked, a little more softly than his usual abrasive half-roar, "I've got some Addictol in the back, you could have just come to me."
Nora shrugged awkwardly. Truth be told, she still didn't know just how much she could trust Hancock, despite how long they'd been traveling together. He sighed, sounding tired all of the sudden.
"I can respect getting clean, don't get me wrong, but I ain't heard shit about this before today," he continued, his accusing eyes holding her rapt attention, "Now I don't usually admit to it, but that smarts. You're my partner. I'm even your occasional supplier for chrissakes. You can't just up and decide to make a big decision like that without giving me some idea of what you're doing."
Over the course of Hancock's small speech, Nora felt like she was buried in unnecessary guilt until it reached the point where she was just mad. Shit, she didn't even really understand why he was chewing her out. Sure, she'd made a decision without him, but it wasn't like he'd want to sit down and talk about her feelings or some shit.
"It's not like it affects you. I just decided to get clean for a while. I thought you respected people trying to stop using, or does that only apply to people you don't have to deal with?" she asked, nearly spitting the last words out, "Always the idealist, just like your namesake."
"Oh you don't even know, sister," Hancock said after a momentary pause, as though something had clicked, "Did you actually think you could just go in, take a shot, and everything would be better?"
The blank look on her face answered his question. He groaned and ran a tired hand across his face, really feeling the liquor now. Against his better judgment, he'd left everything here in Goodneighbor to travel with her without so much as a second thought. In the back of his brain he knew he was overreacting a little bit, but something about this just rubbed him the wrong way, and he couldn't quite place a finger on it.
Nora opened her mouth to say something, but he just shook his head. He mumbled something along the lines of "I need to think" and left, ignoring her soft voice calling his back.
Now alone, all Nora could do was look down at her hands drowning in her own confusion. What was the big deal? This wasn't like Hancock at all. He wasn't the type of guy who let things like this get to him. Sure, she had anticipated something but not this. Just thinking about the way his eyes had looked…
Nora's shoulder's slumped, and she let her face fall into her hands. It didn't even occur to her that she was crying until she looked up a while later and the cool air hit her face. Numbly, she stood and made her way to what passed for a bathroom to give her face a good wash.
"Last call," called Whitechapel, his voice sounding muffled and strange to her from where she stood rinsing her face.
There weren't any towels, so dried her face on the collar of her shirt. Afterwards, she couldn't tell much of a difference, but she trudged out to the bar for her last drink anyway. Either Charlie didn't notice the state she was in, or he was programmed with a tact preprocessor because he gave her the usual without much ado. The drink went down easy, but the underlying feeling of confusion and aloneness. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes quickly, trying not to be that girl crying at the bar on last call.
"This last number's called 'I Loves You Porgy'," Magnolia purred into the microphone, drawing her attention, "It's a slow one, folks, so grab that special someone if they're close-by."
Mags took a second to clear her throat before crooning one of the saddest, slowest ballads in her repertoire. Nora groaned internally, giving a cursory look around the bar. None but the most dedicated patrons were left, but all of them looked as drunk and sorry as she probably did. She was inclined to pay no mind to Mags' last song until the music actually kicked in, drawing her attention.
"I loves you, Porgy
Don't let him take me
Don't let him handle me
And drive me mad
If you can keep me
I wanna stay here
With you forever
And I'll be glad
Yes I loves you, Porgy
Don't let him take me
Don't let him handle me
With his hot hands
If you can keep me
I wants to stay here
With you forever
I've got my man"
Nora wasn't much for music beyond what she'd heard on the radio occasionally, but anyone could agree that the song was beautiful in its own melancholy way. It haunted her as she left the Third Rail and walked to the room in the Rexford where she was staying, its slow tempo matching her every step. Even as she snuggled into the old dirty mattress, Mags' voice still echoed in her head as though it was a lullaby meant just for her.
A/n: I highly recommend giving the Nina Simone version while reading. I was listening to it while I wrote and rewrote this chapter like 4 times lol. See you, space cowboys.