[He's not high, he's not drunk. What he is is attempting to avoid one very annoying sober companion that has been following him incessantly since he made the mistake of mentioning that he was irritated that his favorite prostitute had the night off. Risky behavior, Watson had said. She was concerned about him spiraling downwards and tried to get him to do some jazzercise or something equally ridiculous with her.
He said he had to go put on his trainers. He put on his coat and headed here.
His mind and body need sex to function and he knows this. Since he now spends a majority of his time with Watson, who prefers wearing snug-fitting trousers to everything they do, he finds his testosterone levels require more sex than before. This would be fine if Natasha was around. She isn't.
He takes a sip of his water and looks up to the girl who has asked him if she could sit with him. She's vaguely high, the way she breathes through her nose and the dilation of her pupils gives this much away. He doesn't care, he tells himself. Cocaine is far better when shot up, anyway.]
no subject
He said he had to go put on his trainers. He put on his coat and headed here.
His mind and body need sex to function and he knows this. Since he now spends a majority of his time with Watson, who prefers wearing snug-fitting trousers to everything they do, he finds his testosterone levels require more sex than before. This would be fine if Natasha was around. She isn't.
He takes a sip of his water and looks up to the girl who has asked him if she could sit with him. She's vaguely high, the way she breathes through her nose and the dilation of her pupils gives this much away. He doesn't care, he tells himself. Cocaine is far better when shot up, anyway.]
Not at all.