slept in last night’s clothes and tomorrow’s dreams [torr]

Three sugary drinks later Gianna was pleasantly buzzed. It was Friday night; she didn’t have to go to work for once, so she let a couple of girlfriends drag her to go dancing. Well they could dance. She was just going to stand there, look pretty, and throw down drink after drink. The dress she had on wasn’t what she would normally wear, but what the hey? It was girl’s night, and nowadays she so rarely felt just that, like a girl again. Besides, it showed off her long legs and bronzed complexion extremely well, so she wasn’t even going to complain about how she constantly felt a slightly unsettling breeze between her shoulder blades.

Ideally, tonight wasn’t about finding a guy, or vice versa. She just wanted to know how many of the mysterious tropical fruit flavoured drinks she could drink without her body want to turn her insides… out. However, if a guy flirted with her, she wasn’t about to ignore his advances. It was no secret that all the females in the room were all secretly competing over who could land the biggest catch by the end of the night. This guy who came to talk to her wasn’t the cream of the crop, but Gianna humoured him anyway. Flirting could be fun. A little giggle thrown in at the right moment, a coy smile and a hair flip, and the guy was putty in her hands. She would have been happy to leave it at that and continued drinking alone if the guy didn’t suddenly produce a flask and asked if she wanted a taste of paradise.

First, what kind of a lame pickup line was that? A taste of paradise? So 1998. Second, why did all the guys she meet want to shove something down her throat? First it was drinks, now it’s some dubious potion that would apparently ‘give her the time of her life’? “No thanks,” she snorted, “Only guys who are lacking in… certain departments need help from that.” Gianna moved to get away from the guy, who looked sleazier and sleazier by the second. Why she naively assumed that the guy would just let her walk away she didn’t know, but she stiffened when she felt the man’s hand on her lower back. It was rough and warm, but it sent the wrong kind of shivers up her spine. Apparently he took it as an encouragement, and pressed harder into her, taking this opportunity to shove the vial of liquid into her hands.

Oh no, this wasn’t going to be a repeat of last time. She wasn’t going to be some weak little girl, waiting for her knight in shining armour to come save her. She was strong, she was independent; she could do this on her own. She swatted away his unpleasant touch firmly and turned around to glare at him, hands on her waist. “Listen pal, I don’t know which part of ‘no’ you don’t understand, but–” Before Gianna could tear him a new one, she saw the guy being bodily dragged backwards and dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Her hands flew to cover her mouth in surprise and she risked a quick glance at her ‘saviour’. If this was yet another asshole who thought he was entitled to her gratitude and attention for the rest of the night, then she swore to Merlin she would… “Torr?”

Damn it.

It was another night out for Torr, seeking for the same thing as always. A good time. To let go. To get drunk, get high, or both to reach his own personal haven: oblivion. Tonight he had apparated to London. He frequented Nyx often enough to know the bouncers and slip them a few galleons in passing. Torr was selling tonight and paying off the guys that were supposed to make sure that didn't happen in this fine establishment went a long way in his profits.

Whether most of his customers knew his name or just knew his product didn't much matter to this Regan as long as they had their galleons ready to fork over. He had come with a pack of vials tonight, the white liquid swirling in the tubes, glistening with the promise of attainable paradise with just a sip. The waitresses who worked the VIP section were familiar with him (some of them intimately) so Torr was granted access to the VIP section without trouble. This was where he did most of his business. Sly and discreet, trades made in the shadows of the alcoves. Torr himself had yet to indulge in his own product, but that time wasn't very far off. He had this edge to him, cutting and irritating, and bliss always seemed to help dull that.

Torr stood to stretch his legs, his pockets noticeably lighter with most of the vials gone, but heavier in regards to the amount of money he was packing. It had been a good night. He strode over to the bar, making eye contact with Nic the bartender and gave him a nod for his usual. As he waited, he leaned against the bar and scanned the area. It was Friday and he was considering it a strong possibility that he wouldn't be going home tonight. Just had to find the right candidate..

A group to his left caught his eye. A group of girls with short skirts and one with particularly long legs in a tight red dress. Damn those legs. His eyes followed the line of them, around her ass, her breasts, and then her face. He grimaced. Nevermind. Torr turned away and then as a familiar voice hit his ears, he glanced around quickly. He knew that voice. And it was easy to spot her. She was just to his right. His little sister. In Nyx. Wearing a dress that she shouldn't be. With a sleazy guy Torr knew was not good enough for his sister. He left the drink with Nic and closed the distance between himself and his sister with the sleazeball.

It wasn't until he got closer that he realized the jackass was holding one of his vials. "Fucking hell," he cursed as he grabbed the guy by the shoulders and yanked him away from his sister. A dark part of him wanted to hear his skull crack on the ground, wanted to see blood, but the sleazeball was more stunned than injured. Torr took the time to glare over at his sister and yell, "what the fuck are you doing here!"

Oooh Torr looked pissed. That’s not good. Gianna flinched slightly when the guy hit the ground, because that looked like it hurt, and ok, maybe she felt a bit sorry for him. Just a little bit. It’s not like he did anything to her, although she could verify that he had every intention to in the near future, if the hand halfway down her back had been any indication. The vial of whatever potion he had been holding was now shattered and Gianna sidestepped the mess of sticky liquid, as well as the guy who was still dazed on the ground, gingerly, her hand holding down the too-short skirt of her dress. That was a mess she didn’t want to get into, in four-inch heels no less.

The young witch narrowed her eyes at her older brother as he turned around to yell at her. No are you ok, Gia? No let me get you home to safety, Gia. Just stone cold accusation, just like she got every single time, like she was automatically always the one in the wrong, without question. “Why the fuck can’t I be here? It’s a club, I’m old enough, so tell me exactly why they should stop me from entering?” A scowl that matched her brother’s glare now marred her usually pretty face, and even her hair seemed to reflect her agitation, and was now mussed and slightly frizzy even with the potions she treated it with before leaving. But that was the farthest thing from her mind now because guess who would be going home alone tonight anyway? This girl.

“It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong either. I’m just getting some drinks with friends, maybe trying some less than reliable potions…” She muttered the last part, because she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little bit curious about what that dubious substance was. Maybe if that meathead caught her after she got a few more drinks in her system she would have said yes, but that was irrelevant now. “And since when did you care what I do in my free time anyway?” Gianna crossed her arms, not caring if that made her look like a petulant child. This was why she preferred to be on her own all the time. She didn't know if it was a superpower only older siblings had, but every time she was around them she felt like a child. Defensive, stupid, and always on the verge of apologising for something she didn’t do.

The already warm venue now felt even hotter, and the slightly dense air clung to her like a second skin, further agitating her. It made her want to lash out at Torr, even though technically he didn’t do anything wrong. Technicalities. “So what are you doing here then? Seeking out bed-warmer number two of the evening?” If her tone was sarcastic and slightly bitter then good, he deserved it.

Torr glared down at his youngest sister with heavy brows over dark cobalt blue eyes. He wasn't in the mood for her childish attitude. He was pissed, at her being here, at the guy trying to push bliss on his sister, at Gianna being completely oblivious to it all. Or being completely open to it. He wasn't sure what was worse. All he knew was that he didn't want his darkness to touch her. It shouldn't. "You don't even know that asshole," Torr whipped back at her, matching Regan fire with fire.

And then all of a sudden he wasn't holding back. His patience snapped. Her sass and her mouth pushed him over the edge and he wasn't willing to curb his anger for Gianna. Not tonight. He grabbed her arm harshly and brought himself a step closer to her, his face lowering to hers as he whipped out a response for her immature rant. "You don't know what the fuck you're doing. You don't even know what this is," he said before he glanced down at the broken vial on the floor. He took his wand out impatiently and flicked it at the mess at his feet. He charmed the vial to mend itself, the pieces finding each other and melting back into the vial they once were. With another swish of his wand, the creamy white seeped back into the newly-mended vial and then he levitated it back into his hand. Torr held it up in front of Gianna's face, relentless in his reprimand of her.

"Go on, tell me what this is," Torr said, knowing full well she wouldn't know. "Know how much you can take before you black out? Know what the effects are? Come on, tell me." He slipped the vial in his pocket. He'd be damned if he was going to give it back to the fucker that was lying on the ground or if any other douche bag in this place was going to get his product for free. "If I wasn't here, you'd probably have woke up tomorrow with a dick in you you didn't want by a guy you don't know after taking something you have no bloody clue about." He threw her arm back at her and drew a hand through his hair with irritation as he tried to quell the rage inside him.

He didn't realize he cared this much about his youngest sister. It had to be Nyx, where they were at and what she had almost done. It occurred to him his youngest might not even know about that bliss was of his production. No, he didn't want this to touch her. He rapped the bar with two sharp hits of his knuckles and nodded at Nic the bartender. It was only moments later before he had a glass in his hands, the alcohol sliding down his throat. He scowled at his sister and pointed a finger in her direction. "Don't fucking start with me, Gia." The guy he had felled stirred, eyes blinking hazily, pushing himself up on his arms before glancing around with confusion. His gaze landed on Gia and Torr glanced at his sister, warning her away. "Don't even think about it."

Gianna shook her head firmly. She wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Torr was looking for a fight, a reason to tell her how right he was and how she shouldn’t have given the asshole the chance to get close to her like he did. And she wanted to scream at him for that, for being right, for being here when he had no business to be. Small hands clenched into fists so she wouldn’t do something she’d regret later and she bit her lip, almost wanting to taste the rust of blood. Wasn’t that what some people did when they wanted to feel alive? To escape from what they’re feeling right now?

The younger witch froze when her brother’s fingers took a hold of her arm, his grip strong enough to leave imprints that she’d find herself struggling to explain the next day. Her breath came in short and shallow. Her head felt numb as he leaned in close to snarl at her, unable to focus on any of his words other than the smell of cigarettes and some sort of alcohol. Had he been drinking? The answer almost didn’t matter because Torr probably drank enough that his heart was pumped with vodka instead of blood.

Let go of me. Her scream was internal and silent, and for a while, she thought what she was feeling was fear. White and hot, it reminded Gianna of every time a guy snaked a hand over her waist, and cornered her as she tried to leave. It took Torr’s patronising tone for her to realise that what she was feeling wasn’t fear, but something much worse. Humiliation. Vaguely, she could feel her friends, acquaintances, companions for the evening, staring at her, watching as her brother belittled her, and that alone was enough to put a flush in her cheeks.

“Maybe that’s what I want. Better a stranger’s dick than your concern, because at least that’s real.” Gianna didn’t even react to the way Torr tossed her arm aside like a ragdoll as she hissed right back at him. “Of course I don’t know anything! How can I if every time I try to understand something everyone just brushes me aside like some stupid kid who can’t do anything right? Do you even know how that feels?” She could feel something damp in the corner of her eye, but she refused to wipe it away with her hand. She refused to cry over this, over Torr. “And since when’re you such an expert on underground drugs? Oh who am I kidding, you probably make those in your free time when you’re not doing whatever the hell it is you do.”

It was no lie that Gianna had no idea what Torr did for a living. Not him, not Nessa, and sometimes not even Kerr. She constantly felt like there was some big family secret that she wasn’t allowed in on because she wasn’t qualified. Her throat was dry, and she looked on longingly as Torr got a drink from the bartender, who looked familiar enough with him that the drink was probably free. Damn him. “Don’t start what.” She retorted dully, slapping his finger away, which was close enough to her face to make her want to smash something on his head. “Don’t start with the fact that you’ve been doing a piss ass job at being a brother? Or the fact that you don’t give a shit about Gianna, only Gianna Regan?”

Her reply was tart, but in her opinion, completely fair. That boosted her confidence somewhat, and she was able to combat Torr’s warning glare with an equally sharp one of her own. Carefully, she crossed over the stirring form of the asshole- she was just going to refer to him as such for the rest of what was shaping out to be a woefully long night- and stood in front of him. Just in case her brother decided to do something rash like beat the crap out of him; she didn’t want blood on her hands, or her shoes. Sometimes she was just too damn nice for her own good.  “And I think we’ve established this, stop telling me what to do. You have no fucking right.”

He tried. Torr had really tried to quiet some of the rolling rage that was twisting his insides into tight knots. But Gia set him off again and his temper flared, burning red and hot. His brows dropped low over his eyes, dark with the anger he was barely keeping at bay, for her words were insensible and just fucking stupid. "You'd rather be date raped than deal with a little dose of reality?" he threw right back at her. "Yeah, real smart of you, Gia." He told her, derision and sarcasm dripping from his tone.

She went on. And on. And Torr listened for Merlin knows what reason, but he actually heard her words. And then promptly dismissed them. With exasperation burning through him, Torr rolled his eyes and shook his head. "This sure as hell isn't the way you learn," Torr said, his voice rising louder against the deep bass and thump of the music. "Give it up. Maybe if you'd stop acting like a child, we wouldn't treat you like one." If she wanted to cry about her feelings, she should have gone to Kerr or Carrick or maybe even Nessa. He certainly wasn't one to care or to comfort her about how she felt left out.

When the words fell from her lips about the drug production, Torr whipped his head around to her and narrowed his eyes. A few strained moments passed as Torr tried to get a read on whether she actually knew or if she was just fishing for information. Either way, Torr glared at her, his gaze withering. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Gianna."

She just wouldn't shut up, she just wouldn't shut the fuck up and Torr couldn't take it. He slammed the glass on the counter and turned to her, the full brunt of his anger unleashed and untamed, swirling wildly in his chest and in his eyes. "What the fuck do you want from me, Gianna? Go on, tell me. You looking for the perfect older brother?" Torr stared down at her, his gaze unrelenting as he was just getting started. "Well, guess what. I'm not your babysitter and I'm not your father. It's about time you realized that."

Her slapping his hand away was the last straw. Part of him considered hauling her over his shoulder and dragging her from the club then and there. But he wasn't entirely done with his night here and he was selfish enough to take that into strong consideration. Besides, the hostile look of rebellion in his sister's eyes had him rethinking. He knew that look well, from his own experience. And all of a sudden, it was too much thinking, too much concern, and Torr stepped back and smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were still boiling with anger and deadly cold all at the same time.

"Oh?" Torr said and then held up a hand as if in surrender. "Alright then, just Gianna." He reached into his jacket pocket and searched for a moment before his fingers found purchase. He was sick of this and if she wanted to behave like a moron, who was he to stop her. "Here then," he told her and offered the vial to her. "Go ahead, take it. If you're such a big girl who can make her own decisions, take it right now." It was a dangerous challenge for her and a inexcusable condemnation on his part. But he didn't stop himself from leading her down this path. If she wanted to choose this path, the least he could do was show her just how much of a bloody failure she would be at.

“Which is probably just a Tuesday night for you out on the town, isn’t it? Or is ‘a dose of reality’ what you tell all the girls you screw with as well when you leave their beds the next morning?” It was rare that Gianna got so vicious, but once she started she found that she couldn’t stop. Sometimes she felt like Torr was the one who needed the dose of reality, always so sure of himself that his arrogance sloshed over the top like a badly mixed drink. When was he going to realise that his reality wasn’t hers?

Somewhere somehow the twenty-one year old knew that she was the one acting irrationally, overreacting even. But she was so frustrated. Talking to Torr was like talking to a brick wall; everything just bounced right off him. No, not even that! He just absorbed everything and chose to ignore it, which was even worse. “Well I’m trying. Shouldn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t that mean something to any one of you?” The tears that Gia had just swallowed closed her throat, making her words come out raspier than she wanted to. She didn’t like this. She didn’t want to seem even weaker in front of her brother, who already had a lousy enough opinion of her.

It wasn’t like she had a high regard for Torr either. She didn’t know what he did, but rumours get swapped around, and she never missed the way their grandmother would shake her head into the pie she was baking. The comment she had made was offhanded, but judging by his reaction, it probably wasn’t a far stretch from the truth. “Don’t I? Can you really honestly tell me you had nothing to do with that?” Blue eyes challenged Torr’s equally blue ones, which were now darkened with rage. Gia knew she was pushing her luck, but she wanted to know, she had to know.

For a split second her anger faltered, and that was all it took for her to retract her gaze and redirect to the hem of her dress her fingers were still playing with. Did she want him to be the perfect brother? Probably not. Carr was the perfect one in their family, and no one could measure up to him. No one bothered to try. “I realised that a long time ago, Torr. I guess that makes me the stupid one because I’m still hoping. I still care.” Gianna remembered vaguely what her first boyfriend once told her; clinging on to lost cause wasn’t hope, just foolishness. Her chest tightened painfully as she tried to digest that. She really was the child who couldn’t grow up.

The flame of anger had been doused somewhat, but it was still burning inside, Gia could feel it. Torr’s sudden act of calmness didn’t pacify her, only made her more wary of what he was possibly going to do next. She twisted her fingers together nervously, but she refused to admit that Torr, with his unpredictability, scared her at times. Admitting that, even to herself, meant losing this battle, and she didn’t want to lose. But still she felt her breathing return to a normal pace when he backed away from her. It was like her body could feel his negative energy and the anger that was boiling inside, and was acting out in response.

Her eyes widened involuntarily when he offered the unnamed potion to her, cringing at the way he said her name, like he was mocking her. Like he knew she wasn’t going to do it. Gianna felt sick, uncertainty now burning her up and making her sweat and slightly light-headed. With shaky fingers, she accepted the vial. Every inch of her screamed for her to turn away, to tell Torr that maybe she wasn’t as grown-up as she thought, and just leave. But she couldn’t. She was born with the same pride that ran through all her family members, and she just couldn’t. “Fine, I will.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she tipped her head back and waited for the liquid to burn down her throat.

“Don’t be a fucking prude, Gia,” he told her with a hard look and a roll of his eyes. “The girls who I fuck know exactly what they’re getting themselves into.” Then he gave her a pointed look because it was obvious as anything that his sister didn’t know what she was getting herself into. But then her pointed question about the drug had him thinking maybe she did know a little more than she gave her credit for. The question of whether she knew or was just guessing frustrated him, but he played it casual. He wasn’t going to confirm it for her if she really didn’t know. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” he told her sharply, his eyes flashing at the challenge he saw in her own blue eyes.

She still cared? Torr scoffed at her concern, at her naivete to believe that he needed that. He was almost amused by the idea. No, wait, he was amused by the idea. He smirked but it didn’t change the frosty look in his eyes and he agreed with her on her stupid claim. “You said it, not me.” But he watched her with eagle eyes as she took the vial out of his hand with shaky fingers. He read her face and read the flickers of uncertainty there and was sure that she was going to chicken out. He tried to hold back the arrogance that threatened to brim over into his eyes, but then he gave up that ruse. Torr had never been good at holding anything back.

But then, she drank it. His baby sister drank his fucking drug and Torr hadn’t moved to stop her.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he cursed even though what he really wanted to do was yell at her. He wanted to swipe that vial out of her hand and hear it shatter on the floor. He wanted to shove the tip of his wand down her throat and make her gag and throw up everything she had just swallowed. But he didn’t. He didn’t do any of it. Something dark and twisted and destructive stilled everything in him and he just watched, brows low over his dark cobalt blue eyes as he made a study of his youngest sister.

“You’re going to regret this,” he told her even though he didn’t quite believe it himself. His shit was pure in its brewing and he could attest to its potency. He just wished he wasn’t such a fuck up of a brother. Why hadn’t she run into Carrick tonight? Or Murphy. Anyone but him. He tapped the bar and ordered a whiskey. A moment later, he was shoving the glass into her hand, curling her fingers around it before letting go. “Chase it with this,” he told her, a shimmer of something proud sliding over him. She had asked, she had dared to accept the challenge, and unfortunately for her, Torr was twisted enough that he hadn’t wanted to back down.

Bliss was fast acting so he watched and waited for its affects to show themselves in Gia. He looked at her knowingly and then smirked. “How do you feel, Gia?” he asked.

Know exactly what they were getting into? "Oh, you mean like pills, a temporary lapse of judgement, regret?" This time, it was Gianna who returned Torr's stare with a calm, if not bored, expression. She wasn't brilliant like some of her family members, but she wasn't completely daft either, and until she got that message across crystal clear to all her family members she wasn't going to stop fighting. It was insulting, really, given that she was almost twenty-two, and her own brother didn't even see her as a proper adult. So, fine, if Torr didn't want to tell her that he'd been messing with less than legal substances, then she'd just have to resort to other means.

"You're right. You don't owe me an explanation, it's not like I'm your sister or anything, right?" The young woman snorted. If he was going to be difficult about this - and he always was - then it was up to Gianna to find out the truth herself. It wasn't like the name 'Torrence Regan' didn't come with a label attached; she just had to be careful and wait for him to do all the slipping up. Judging from what happened just now, maybe she didn't have to wait that long. "Let's just get this over with." She didn't know what she'd been hoping to accomplish tonight, but reconciling their differences then ending the night with a big musical number and confetti was off the friggin table.

Besides, she had friends who did this on the daily, drugs and stuff. How bad could it- holysweetmotherofeverythingpure. Like all things Torr related in her not-really-pleasant childhood memories, it burned on the way down just like she'd predicted, before settling heavily in the bottom of her stomach. She didn't know if it felt the same for everyone, but right now she thought that people would have to be stupid smashed to consume something like this willingly. And she didn't even like alcohol that didn't taste like fruits and a worrying amount of sugar.

Gianna, for all the times she'd been stonedrunk, had never gotten high before, at least not in that sense. The effects of the potion made her feely giggly, dizzy, floaty, and... pukey. Her senses were heightened but her vision was blurred; she could vaguely make out Torr maybe speaking to her, but his voice just came out muffled with the buzzing in her brain. She came to herself somewhat when she felt a glass being forced into her hand, and instinctively she dropped it like hot rocks the moment the hands covering hers retreated. "I will in my arse!" She slurred, wobbling her way over to the counter of the bar because she needed to stay goddamn upright, goddamn it all.

Once she was able to cling onto something sturdy for dear life, she felt the tension go out of her shoulders a little, and allowed the fear of the alarming, unsettling new sensations the potion brought to take over.

One, two, three, dry sobs with no tears, sounding more like she was being choked to death than crying. But Gianna was pretty sure that the residual alcohol in her combined with the drug burned them all away. Probably forever. Maybe she'd overdose and go into a coma, because even that was better than being known as the freak who couldn't cry forever. "Do you hate me? Why do you hate me? I feel like you hate me and it's making me want to hate you too." Resigned to the fact that she was too tired and confused to even produce a tear, let alone pitch a fit, Gia slumped onto the counter, even ignoring the way her hair was sticking to it unattractively. Without waiting for a response, she continued quietly, "I want to leave."

Watching Gia, watching his younger sister fall under the effects of a drug he created was less entertaining than he'd imagine it would be. It was like he could see everything she was feeling reflected in her once clear now hazy blue eyes and every moment that passed made Torr feel lower than a snake's belly. Why the hell had  he allowed her to do it? Why did he think he would take some sick, twisted pleasure out of this?

Torr was still trying to figure it out even though he was avoiding thinking it through as he watched his little sister fight and fail through bliss's effects. Her slurred words and loss of balance were common symptoms and ones he was all too familiar with, but in Gia, he felt like he wanted to punch himself in the face. The Regan stalked her to the counter as she wobbled towards it, glaring at anyone who threatened to get in her way.

Seeing her collapsed against the bar top tugged at something deep inside him. You are one twisted son of a bitch he cursed at himself as Gia ranted about him hating her. He stood next to her, his hands on his hips as he tried to see her face through her hair that covered her cheek. An idea of comforting her, maybe putting an arm around her waist to steady her or a soothing hand on her back floated through his mind, but with the state she was in, he thought she might reject the touch. And the thought of her pushing him away was something he didn't want to deal with.

"I don't fucking hate you, Gia," he told her, the words mean, but his tone tired. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. Her quiet 'I want to leave' almost went unnoticed if not for his attentiveness toward her in her current state. "Let's go then. You can sleep this off back at my place," he told her as he took her arm and slung it across his neck and then wrapped his other arm around her waist. He was nearly carrying her toward the door and out of the club, all the while thinking maybe it would have been better if he truly hated her instead. Because then she wouldn't end up in messes like this.

Struggle was imminent but pointless. In her inebriated state Gianna had about the strength of a baby possum, and it was all she could do not to throw up on her shoes, let alone summon the strength she needed to push Torr away. At least, she assumed – hoped – that it'd be her brother who was supporting her. Nodding sluggishly at the word 'sleep', which was the only word she could pick out, she let herself be hauled away like a sad sack of potatoes.

And then? And then nothing.

At some point during her transportation the twenty-one year old remembered smelling alcohol, some kind of engine oil, and whatever lumpy thing she was resting on turning into something soft, which was how she woke up. "Tits." So first of all, waking up was the wrong choice to make. There was only one way to describe what she was going through, and that was now she knew what being turned inside out probably felt like.

However, she was mostly happy to report that she was still in one piece. Probably. She was still too tired to move from the cot that she was huddled on, but her fingers and toes were still intact when she wiggled them, so she was counting that in her favour. And the room she was currently in? Gianna definitely woke up to worse. If this was Torr's place, then Gia didn't recognise it. It seemed a little less... trashed than she assumed it'd be, and definitely cleaner than she wanted to give him credit for. Probably wasn't his place. It also wasn't that nice, if the weird stains on the floor were anything to go by.

She was considering rolling out of the little nest she made to closer inspect the stains, when she stilled. Were those footsteps she heard? Bollocks, arse, shite. Knowing that she didn't want to face whoever it was who brought her here just yet, she did what any mature, almost adult would do- she pulled the flimsy covers over her face and croaked. (Really, croaked, because dehydration was a real and terrible thing.)

"I don't care who you are I'm not getting out of this bed and not even the ghost of Albus Dumbledore can make me so I suggest you stop right there." She paused thoughtfully then, taking a moment to wet her chapped lips, "Unless you're bringing me breakfast in bed, or water, then you can come in." In the moment, Gia completely forgot her first rule of waking up in a stranger's bed- ordering them around like a queen on her birthday was probably not a great idea.


@Torrence Regan i know i said i was going to end it but apparently gia has a mind of her own >> either way we can end it soon bc she's the queen of hasty retreats xD

The Regan had brought his sister to his apartment and charmed the door open awkwardly as he was holding his baby sister in his arms. There was a feeling coursing through him, pushing hard on his chest, and Torr knew the name of it well. Self-loathing. The kind that you didn't welcome very often into your head or home, but tonight he couldn't fight it. When one drugged your sister with a drug of your own making knowing full well that you shouldn't, you totally deserved the hellish emotions that came to play in the aftermath and right now, Torr was certainly playing in the pitfalls of hell.

His first instinct was to put her on the couch, the closest piece of furniture to the front door that would hold her comfortably, but remembering what he had done on that couch the night before had him swiftly changing course. His bed had been neatly made and he had struggled to pull back the covers. Gia was out and while she lay is his bed, tucked under the covers, he idly wondered if he had accidentally fed her too much bliss. That idea had fear and worry creeping through his veins before his own brand of might took over. She wasn't going to overdose on this without his permission. Taking care of someone wasn't really his forte. He glanced around for a few seconds before heading out to his kitchen to fetch a glass.

He went through a mental checklist of what might help Gia recover faster and maybe even negate the effects of bliss. Torr poured a glass of water and then with glass in hand brought it to his work desk against one wall of his living room. He searched for a moment in his potions supplies and finally came away with a few leaves which he pressed with the flat edge of a knife before submerging into the water glass. With a look of intense concentration, Torr re-entered his bedroom only to hear Gia's voice, which was all at once a great relief and a great amusement. He realized two things. One - how worried he had actually been and two - that he was proud of her to have taken that dose of bliss and still have that much gumption to tell him off. Pride from Gia filled him but was quickly followed by a sick sense of self-hate. He was such an asshole to his sister.

Torr pushed the thoughts away and said, "I've brought water" as he tugged at the edge of the covers and stuck out his arm, offering her the glass. "Go on, this'll make you feel better Gia."