always running off . . .
nursing a cup of spiked caffeine may have to wait. he sets the mug down, perhaps not stopping her but following behind. her father is wreaked by vestiges of a hangover, slightly stumbling.
strangely sober, he is seated and slouched at the edge of the mattress, the dagger under his pillow resting between fingers. it may end up under the floorboards tonight.
β got somethinβ to say, princess .α£ β
woke up hungover, hair rumpled and the scar on his cheek reopened. itβs a ghastly sight, so he smacks a band-aid ( funny how there was an entire box of them on the countertop ) before the tributes or effie sees it.