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[ His equilibrium’s shot. The trek up to Adachi’s apartment isn’t an easy one. Looking any more than three feet ahead of himself gets his head spinning, and every step he takes ends in a stumble. He has one arm craned around his partner’s shoulder for support, and he occasionally sways into the man’s smaller frame as he drags himself gracelessly up the stairs. It's saturday night (or more accurately, an early sunday morning), and Dojima's had just a little too much to drink. ]

..Shhheeesh, y'figure this kinda place would have an elevator or sshomething.

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Tell ya the truth, m'not really sure of the reason you're here.

Can't say I was looking ferward to workin with a partner n'all, but you're not sush a bad guy.

I'm here because mostly, it's my apartment, Dojima-san.

[Adachi can't help the smirk here, but maybe if Dojima's drunk enough, the guy'll mistake it for a good-natured smile.]

Yeah, I guess you're not too bad either, sir. A little grumpy in the mornings though.

Oh yeah? ..This is your place, isn't it? 'Forgot already.

Think this's the first time i've sheen the inside.

[With a small laugh, Adachi leans back as much as Dojima's prone form will allow him to, throwing a look over his own living room. It's small, and it's sparse, like he didn't leave the time or effort to actually live in it. At the same time, it's clearly occupied, slightly messy the way men's rooms tend to be without someone else to care. Somehow, it feels lonely. His laugh is a little bitter, and the sigh is tired.]

Yeah, well, welcome to my humble abode and all that. Sorry I couldn't really serve up tea, but I figured you already had enough to drink.

Ain’t much of a tea-drinker anyway.

Edited 2009-11-23 08:15 (UTC)

[A pathetic sight. Adachi himself is sober enough to realize that - two men, one hardly able to spit out his slurred words, sitting in a dark living room on a weekend night. The television's off, the air is chilly and there isn't warmth anywhere, except for the faint heat the human body naturally gives off, but even that is weak and dying at best. There is an overwhelming sense of nothing - nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to look forward to. Adachi runs a rough hand through his hair, bending over his knees. Sheesh, the depths he had to go through just to play along. (There's no way, he's sure, he could be as pathetic as this by himself.)]

I have coffee, but you're gonna have to wait 'til morning for that.

Heh. F’you’re tired a’ listening to me you can go on to bed.

...but f’you got anything you wanna add on say to me I’m all ears.

[The clock strikes exactly three in the early morning. There is a pause.

Adachi gives Dojima a look that is clearly designed to be neutral, but there is, for the shortest second, a crack. In that second, there is an opportunity, where it seems that for a moment, everything is going spill out of his mouth - insecurities and confessions and accusations and everything he has ever wanted to say to Dojima's face - truth. And maybe everything could've changed, in that one second, and maybe everything could've started to heal.

Then it's one second past three in the early morning, and he gets up, turns away.]

Nothing much. I'm a simple kind of guy, sir.

Goodnight.

G'night.

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