The Drunk Test

Jack woke up every day, got up, and ran a mile. As she ran down sidewalks, she ran conversations long had or never to be had through her mind. She remembered faces of loved ones long gone - Chip, off the grid; Elliot, from the world; Vito, from the world's consciousness; and Nemo, from her life. They ran just beyond her, out of reach, a step ahead of her.

Her mile often turned into several.

She came home to wake up the child that was not hers, made a breakfast she never seemed to enjoy, took Sunny to a school Jack knew had terrible standards, and went to a job she knew she used to enjoy and yet... could no longer do so. She worked her ass off, picked Sunny up from a daycare she could not afford, and home life was a blur.

And then, she went to bed. Only, she didn't. She laid awake for ours, just staring at the wall, attempting not to listen to the last words that still echoed through her skull, trying not to hold her blankets close to replace those who used to be beside her, and trying to avoid the fact that it was very possible she was going crazy.

And then the weirdest thing happened. And it happened today.

Six o'clock hit. And... Jack woke up.

It took her a minute to realize she had. After all, she had grown accustomed to not sleeping and to wake up meant... well, she knew it meant she had slept, but it was hard for her to believe. She had slept. She had slept well. No nightmares. No threat of tears. No anxieties. No fervent prayers. Just wonderful, long-awaited, almost-forgotten sleep.

Two miles because she made such good time with mile one. Sunny woke like an angel. Breakfast was hearty, tasty, and had mounds of bacon - bacon always made it better. Sunny went to school, and Jack received a report that the girl was soon becoming top of the class. Jack continued on to the most enjoyable and most rewarding practice of the season. She picked Sunny up and, on a whim, took her to a close friend's house for the night.

She had made a decision. It almost seemed like she was recovering. But she had to know for sure. She had to use the Drunk Test. She always used it, because it was fool proof. If she could go out, get drunk, and have fun - she was recovering. If getting drunk dissolved her into a pitiful state of self-loathing and grief, then today was just an anomaly.

It was a risk, but she had to know.

She was changing into nicer clothes (nice for Jack meant clean) when she heard the door open, and then close. She stepped out into the hall and pointed at her roommate, her finger pointed straight between his eyes. "Don't take off your coat. We're going to the Ornery Ogre for a drink."

Well, several drinks.

Maxmius had never been a loyal drinker. He was more of the social sort - going out only when Patrick had dragged him out of their room, insisting that Max needed fresh air. Things never seemed to turn out well when Max drank. Once he had ended up in a fight and had received a broken nose. But more often he was filled with overconfidence. Rum turned him into a singer, vodka made him love to dance, and whiskey transformed him to a master (and very loud) storyteller. But he was always happy. Happy until the next morning when he remembered what a fool he made of himself. Needless to say the shame of having sung "Highway to Hell" in front of your entire department on karaoke night was enough to make him restrained when it came to his drinking.

But when Jack Dyllan pointed at your face and told you to do something you did something. At least that was Max's philosophy for keeping her happy and him alive. So drinks it was.

"Sounds good to me." shrugged Max. He couldn't help but ponder if ever before Jack had invited him anywhere or to participate in anything. Truthfully they still knew pitifully little about each other for being roommates. They were far from friends.. just two people who ate breakfast and dinner together on a daily basis, shared boring stories about their day with, and mostly avoided.

Max turned back to the door, his jacket still on. "What about Sunny?" His voice contained a hint of worry as he considered the whereabouts of the small girl who had become quite dear to him in the passing weeks. It was hard not to love her. She was more fun than most of his adult friends.

Jack's finger briefly retracted at Max's answer and her expression registered some slight surprise. "O-oh. I wasn't expecting you to agree." She mulled it over a moment. It was funny - she really had expected a fight out of him. The excuse of work - either the need to focus on it, or the exhaustion from a long day full of it - seemed so ready to be used. And Max honestly did not seem like he would be one to drink. Now that she thought of it, the idea of Max in a bar, especially one as shady as the Ornery Ogre, was actually hilarious, and yet very hard to imagine.

She would not have to imagine soon, though.

She grinned, dropping her arm. "Good. Then we can skip the whole threaten-you-and-your-family part, bypass the fist fight, and just get right to the fun stuff." She smirked and finished rolling up her sleeves, before crossing him to grab her coat from the hallway coat rack. Though it was summer, there was still a lingering of winter breeze in the air during the nights. And Jack always liked to have a coat - she never knew when it would be to her advantage to have a hood.

The more she thought about it, the more excited she was to relax with some drinks. If anything, the alcohol at least provided her a temporary sanctuary from the emotions that had settled deep into her soul, pretending as though they were not really there, despite the fact that she was still tormented by the feelings they elicited. Jack could appreciate a vacation from these thoughts - hopefully, she would be given one tonight.

He inquired after Sunny and Jack bit back a small smile. It seemed Max and Sunny were becoming friends. Sunny often talked about Max when Jack walked her to school. Jack found the idea of a friendship between the two endearing - for some reason. "She has a playdate with a friend from school. She's going to be sleeping over. She's in very good hands. I heard talk of s'mores."

Jack followed Max out the door and the closed and locked it. She offered an arm to him so she could apparate them off to the bar. "Shall we?"

Max took the redhead's arm and braced himself for the crushing pull that of apperation. Max didn't mind this form of transportation, it just always took him off guard. And sure enough he felt the pressure of being squeezed through a penny-sized hole, blackness surrounding him, as the world flew by. It was only when he feet had left the floor that Max began to doubt his decision to leave the comfort of their home.

Even though they had lived together for months, it was clear that Max and Jack really knew very little about eachother. It wasn't that they didn't get along.. they just.. didn't really get along. Max was always cooped up at work and Jack was always running around, juggling fifty different things at once. Between their schedules they just didn't have a lot of time to snuggle around the fire and tell stories. And for a guy who tended to be nervous around strangers, Max didn't seem to mind the arrangement at all.

When their feet landed back on the ground Max looked around, admiring the normality of the street that they found themselves in. He turned to his companion and waited for her to lead him. This scene was a strange one. The two of them were rarely alone without the company of Sunny, much less on a social visit. Somehow Max didn't feel too uncomfortable about the whole thing and felt that this was a good thing. The evening would go smoothly and he could return home after a drink or two. Yes. What could go wrong?

(("Between their schedules they just didn't have a lot of time to snuggle around the fire and tell stories." The mental image is so cute it hurts.))

He still did not put up a fight - she was expecting one right up to the moment he grabbed her arm. Perhaps she was used to being around a more tenacious breed of person. She rarely spent much time with the meeker people, the ones less inclined to fight every suggestion posed to them. She was off put by this strange temperament, but she sort of enjoyed it too. It was a nice little break.

The moment he gripped her arm, she knew there really would not be a fight from him. She apparated, making sure to apparate in a little alcove she knew to be obstructed from the street view by a large phone box. She peeked her head out, and then took a step onto the street, which looked like a plain old street. She turned to Max, quickly informing him, "We're in Glasgow."

She strode down the street as though it were apart of her daily routine. She approached the bar, the Ornery Ogre, and stepped in. The bar was a weird blend of magic and frail attempts to cover it up. Muggles frequented the bar, but more magical folk could be found at later hours. So they often performed magic, and immediately had to modify memories or perform other defensive maneuvers. It was funny really.

She approached the bar and knocked her fist on the wood. It drew the bartender's attention and she ordered for herself. "Scotch." She glanced back at Max. "Order. I'm buying first round."