By the time she was done eating, she had chugged the rest of the bottle simply out of spite. She didn't know why she was acting like this, but her drunken self felt it necessary.
She was now laying on the couch, humming to herself and staring at the empty bottle wistfully.
Karkota figured he'd best throw his trash away, and get a water too.
"Hey where are- oh my gosh you finished the bottle." He shook his head. "Now who's the stupid one?" He sighed.
She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes only slightly unfocused as she looked at him upside down. "I'm a drunk, not stupid. I can still kick yur ass."
"Yeah whatever." Karkota spotted the trash can and tossed the bag into it. "Where are your cups? I need a drink- and no not alcohol. " he rolled his eyes and began opening and closing cabinets looking for the cups, not really expecting her to answer.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm above the sink." She grabbed a blanket and curled up in it, face mashed into one of the many pillows around her.
"Thanks." He closed the cabinet he was rummaging through and went above the sink. Karkota grabbed a cup and filled it with water. "So what kinda drunk are you?" He asked the he chugged his water.
"What kinda question is that?" she mumbled, snuggling farther into the comforting embrace of her blankets and pillows.
"Well of your a mean one, I'm gonna hide upstairs all night." He refilled the cup before emptying it again. "And I'm guessing your to drunk to make it upstairs, so I'll be safe up there."
"Ass." Her lids were heavy and she stared aimlessly at a random wall. In all reality, Karkota could grab a knife and slit her throat. She would fight–because, duh–but she would essentially be powerless in this state. She didn't know why she trusted him to not do it, but another part of her just didn't really give a shit if he ended up getting her killed. She wasn't even sure if her struggle to survive was even worth it in the end…
"Right back at you." Karkota emptied the glass one more time before placing it in the sink.
"Need someone to carry you up stairs?" He leaned on the counter and crossed his arms. Watching her carefully.
"I'm fine where I am," she insisted, being stubborn once again. She could barely be seen at this point, as she was so engulfed in comfort and fuzzy blankets. "I don't need to be carried."
"Then you'll be making it on your own? Stairs and drunks do mix well- heck prisoners and drunks do work well. I could kill you, or even run. What makes you trust me so much?"
"I'm well aware you could kill me at any moment. And I'm currently debating if I care or not." Her face didn't waver as she stared at him. She was an honest–if a bit stubborn–drunk, and more of her true personality showed through whenever she had alcohol in her system as opposed to when she was sober.
"Nice to know you care." He rolled his eyes. "You sure you don't need help? You'll probably sleep better in your own bed rather than the couch. No matter how comfortable you are right now."
"Last time I checked, prisoners don't care how their captors are feeling. In fact, they usually want them to feel absolutely miserable." She scrunched her brows together as she puzzled over why he was being so nice.
He didn't bother explaining himself, much rather he walked over to the couch. "Come on miss Drunk. I'll bring all your pillows too if you want."
"Noooooooo," she whined, throwing her blankets over her head so that she was completely covered.
Karkota sighed and dug around in the blankets untill he had a his arms around her. He picked her up bridle style. "Kick, or slap me and I will drop you."
She squirmed in his hold but didn't get overly violent. She eventually just gave up and rested her head against his shoulder, too tired to do anything else. "Drop me and you better hope I don't remember in the morning."
"If I drop you I might as well finish the job and just kill you. No offense." He augested his hold on her to make sure he didn't drop her.
Karkota wobbled up the stairs, making his way to her room. "Here you go miss Drunk." He set her down in her bed and took a few steps back. "You want all your pillows too?"
She grabbed one of the pillows already on her bed and hugged it against her body, muttering something that sounded like a no mixed in with some drunken mumbling. Her eyes drifted around aimlessly, not really looking at anything.
"Right, okay good night then-" Karkota realized he didn't actually know her name. But in her drunken state decided he'd ask in the morning. "Good luck with your hangover tomorrow." With those last remarks he made his way out of her room and went back to his own.
She drifted off into an alcohol-induced sleep not long after. She vaguely had a passing thought that she hoped she had a dreamless sleep, or at least wouldn't be plagued by nightmares about her past. Bad enough she wasn't even keeping him held hostage properly–he had carried her to bed for Christ's sake. She didn't need him waking up in the middle of the night to her screaming and freaking out.
Karkota crashed not long after. Being tired he ended up just throwing himself into his bed, and falling asleep. The day had been stressful and way to much to take in.
He could have ran, but even to his own surprise he stayed. Karkota felt like he had to stay. That he had to take care of her in her drunken state. His mom would have called him a gentleman, and his father? Well he'd have called him a coward.
(Should we time skip to the morning or screaming nightmare scene?)