UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

LAST TRY I PROMISE
Octavius didn't want to help set up a party, he didn't want to go to a party, and he didn't want anything to do with Rupert Axebanger Brookstanton. But there he was, helping to set up. For a party. For Axebanger Brookstanton. He had put up only a marginal resistance when Charlie dragged him along to decorate, but when he spilled the beans of what had come to pass the day before with Rose, his best friend in the whole world shrugged. He seemed to think the better of it for the next second, and then clasped him on the shoulder and said, "Well," but that was the extent of the commiserating. For the next hour, Octavius was not without a streamer in his hand, and then the hour after that, a drink. For Brookstanton's part, he seemed to be making a genuine effort to be decent, had no idea that Octavius hated him, or had no idea who Octavius was, all of which further angered and inexplicably depressed Octavius. Then Charlie had given him whisky, and he was drinking it, and there was more, and then he was on the floor staring up at what he assumed was a very dark night sky.

Or under a table.

It didn't quite matter which one, because he was drunk and everything was terrible.

Well, that wasn't quite right, but things were bad, and he was drunk, so everything was actually much worse than it really was, and Rose didn't want to speak to him, which was just fine, because he didn't want to speak to her, so they did what two people who didn't want to speak to each other any longer would do, and broke up.

There, he said it.

No, actually he hadn't. What he instead did manage was a vaguely bewildered, "I fell."