*Elijah*⬆️
It had been months since Claire passed on at some point it had started snowing covering the ground in a fluffy white blanket. I couldn't tell you most of what had happened even if I tried. Dying and regenerating had taken it out of me so after finding my bike I had driven back to New York and broken into my apartment. After a lot of the strongest whiskey I could find and several bottles of Everclear I was drunk and I didn't sober up as the days turned to weeks. I should have died when I absorbed that energy but when I'm drunk I don't have to think about why I didn't.
At some point in my drunken haze I had gotten a bartending job across the street from where the Nightingale used to be. May Parker had been released from the hospital and had dragged my drunk ass in from the cold on several occasions. All it would have taken was some skin contact and concentration to release her memories but I was either too drunk to focus or too guilty to try.
Which brings it to now a drunk lying on my couch surrounded by empty bottles and several day old pizza. Turns out several bottles of Everclear and moonshine in a couple hours would make even someone with regeneration abilities a drunken mess.
Releasing a long groan I unceremoniously pushed the bottles away wincing slightly at the sharp sound of breaking glass. I'll get that later but first food.
"Someone shut off the damn sun, shit is way too bright." grumbling to no one really, I took another long gulp from the bottle in my hand relishing in the burn of the alcohol.
I wasn't drunk enough not to notice the suit jacket neatly folded on the only clean portion of the counter. That's definitely not mine. I tried my best to stumble in the general direction of the kitchen and not to slip on one of the many empty bottles littering the apartment floor.
Bacon. Why do I smell bacon?
"Who the fucking hell are you?" the words came out slurred and broken. No one knew who I was anymore so this man could be nothing more than a drunken dream.
The man or were there three turned from the stove holding out a plate of bacon and pancakes like a peace offering. Who cooks in a collared shirt and tie... Then again that's a whole different hallucination involving two certain blonde and brown haired soldiers and way less clothing.
Even my drunken mind had to admit he is a handsome man, tall with dark hair combed back and day old stubble. It was dark eyes that drew me in, they were old eyes, ones that had seen death and depravity. They held the same look I used to see in Logan and Victor when I looked at myself in a mirror. It was those eyes that stared back.
I snarled in sudden moment of soberness "I don't care if you are real or some drunken dream just leave me alone cause I have zero fucks left to give!" The bottle slipped from my loose grip shattering against the floor splattering my jeans in the amber whiskey. "Shit!"
"I'm Elijah, I am here to help." His voice, much like his posture, was firm and controlled. Oh who am I fucking kidding, he was some suit with a stick up his ass. "Breakfast?"
"I don't care so don't let the door hit you on the way out!" I growled, waving my hand in dismissal as I stumbled to the cupboard for more alcohol. Boring conversations sober me up, I can't have that.
"I don't think you understood my meaning, I'm here to help you Layla Jones now let's get you sobered up and I'll explain everything"
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