Abigail led you back in the cabin, much to John's annoyance.
The lamp near his bed illuminated your face. Your face was flushed, and with your breath smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, he figured you had a few drinks before Abigail dragged you back in here. It wasn't entirely unlike you, he had seen you drunk on rare occasion. Maybe he wasn't just expecting it. Not tonight.
"Abigail shouldn't have dragged you back in." he said to you apologetically. Even at his sorry state, he was still genuinely more concerned for others, you thought.
"It's fiiine, John." You slurred, your eyelids half shut, and you beamed at him. Sober you would never have the courage to look at him directly without melting into water.
An awkward silence hung in the air in the room as you checked on him. Abigail left you two in your corner and shifted her attention Jack to tuck him in.
"How many have you had?" John asked, his attempt to rid the air of awkwardness.
You held your index finger and thumb in front of John's face. You sniggered, amused at yourself. John, however, was not. There were a million things running through his head, and another million running through yours, even in your drunk-ass state. Unfortunately, this wasn't the night for these things to be brought to light. Not for you anyway. God knows what's running in that head of his.
He realised he was staring at your face a little longer than he should be, he snapped himself out of it before you – or Abigail, for that matter, could catch him in his trance. He turned his head the other way.
You gave John some herbs to help with his fever, and his temperature gradually went down. Seeing that your job here was done, you stood up clumsily. He shifted to try and help you get up, but instantly regretting this as he felt a sharp pang of pain shoot up on his leg.
You bid the couple good night. Your world started to spin wildly again as soon as you started heading for the door. You could've sworn the door wasn't THAT far. Are they playing tricks on you?
Ultimately, you decided to give up all hope and started to inelegantly crumble to the floor.
Abigail rushed to you and tried her best to keep you on your feet. She failed at that. As they say, people are twice as heavy when they are drunk and about to black out.
I am not drunk. No, it wasn't the alcohol, you were just tired. Just goddamn tired of everything. You defended yourself in your head.
"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired. Can I rest here for a bit?" you asked rhetorically. You pulled yourself away from her and clumsily settled on the floor, resting your back against the wall. The last thing you saw was John's blurry face, looking at your direction.
All you've wished for was for him to look at you, but not like this, not when you're passed out drunk – what a cruel twist of fate you thought.
You closed your eyes. John and Abigail started to argue about something. You heard your name thrown out here and there in the middle of it, but really at this point, you didn't care what they were arguing about anymore. You just need some goddamn sleep. You lulled yourself to sleep, their voices fading out slowly.
Not long after you've passed out on their floor. The couple's argument died down; Abigail went out to ask for help. She and John figured you'd appreciate it in the morning if you were brought back to your own bed to sleep comfortably. She got hold of Arthur who was also heading back to his cabin.
"Oh, Arthur. It's [Y/N]. I asked her to check on John. See, he was burning up, but I didn't realise she was drunk. She's passed out on our floor." She explained in a rush, pointing to their cabin.
Arthur nodded his head. "Goddamit, Marston!" He cursed, obviously annoyed at the fact that John was hassling everyone at this ungodly hour – and the fact that he and Javier just saved him from becoming wolf dinner hours ago!
"John, I see your being an inconvenience to everyone… as always." Arthur greeted him sarcastically as he entered. John didn't respond. He hadn't anything to say, this time it was true.
Arthur turned to you and saw you slumbering peacefully on the floor, your mouth slightly agape. He placed his arm under your knees and the other around your back and scooped you up with ease. He bid Abigail and John good night. Abigail thanked you as she opened the door for the both of you.
Arthur was big and built. He had no problem carrying you back to your cabin which happened to be just next door.
He led himself in and carefully settled you down on your bed. He put some blankets over you to keep you warm, which unintentionally roused you in your drunken slumber. You opened your eyes slightly and recognised Arthur Morgan beside your bed. You realised it was him who carried you back to your bed.
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan!" You waved your arm limply at him.
"Good night, Ma'am." He tipped his hat and made his way for the exit.
Half-awake, you started to remember your display of drunken and foolish behaviour in front of John just moments earlier.
"A million, hic! It's in a million pieces, Arthur." You blurted out before Arthur could make his exit.
Arthur stopped and turned to indulge you in your intoxication, "What's in a million pieces, Ms. [Y/N]?"
"My heart, Mr. Morgan. My heart is in a million pieces." You gestured in the air, as if you were preaching to an invisible congregation.