original samples.

Contrary to her insistence that she was far from a junkie, Gabrielle was clearly restless without her usual fix. Bouncing on her heels, lightly swaying, the fact that she was still tapping on Fyfe's door despite having already knocked less than a minute ago... It was undeniable at this point, but that wouldn't stop her from doing exactly that.

-

She had been leaning sluggishly against the door, forehead resting there as if she were about to nod off any second as the drumming slowed. When the door suddenly opened, she caught herself just before she could fall forward, then slipped inside nonchalantly, hoping it had gone unnoticed.
The back of her foot shut the door behind her, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, shrugging. "Been craving some Irish hospitality." That one particular sofa chair she always gravitated to for whatever reason was flopped into with a sigh. She knew it was late, but the girls were going out tomorrow, and she had just remembered whose turn it was to buy. "But seriously, I'm going to Narakas on Friday, so...you know, I need the usual."
Narakas, with its nonspecific Asiatic design, was a nightclub comprising of several floors meant to depict different levels of Buddhist hell, ranging from aggressively neon to darkly sultry. It had become a hot spot not long after opening just the year before, so it was the go-to for trendy socialites and was ironically just edgy enough to make them feel unique.

-

Gabrielle sunk in her chair for a moment, unable to think up a snappy response as it was an entirely accurate statement. It never took much to pitch her a new treat, and she'd buy him out if he'd let her. Despite his teasing, though, her mood visibly heightened at the sight of the smorgasbord he'd laid out, but she tried not to stray from the original plan.

-

"You know the usual. Nose powder and any downers you've got." A typical night out with friends would usually involve copious amounts of time stuffed in a handicap stall doing line after line until around three to four in the morning. Then maybe a valium or morphine in the Uber to get her to bed. Rinse and repeat.

-

Twenty minutes after he'd arrived home, there was finally a brisk knock at his door. On the other side was Gabrielle, still in the same Nirvana t-shirt having only bothered to slap on a new pair of pants for this visit, forgoing any primping.

-

"Are you even your mother's favorite?" She glared at him, holding the expression as she walked to her preferred chair.

-

It took a moment for Gabrielle to break her act, having assumed he was giving her the silent treatment just to irritate her further. When she looked over at him and noticed the stark change in his demeanor, her arms uncrossed, and she leaned forward. "Fyfe." After a few seconds, she finally seemed to catch on to what might have happened. "Sh*t..." she combed a hand through her hair, sliding the beanie off her head. "Um...Sorry."

-

"Sh*t," she could only repeat the same word once again after hearing the reason for his reaction. As if afraid to make any sudden movements around him, she slowly picked up the bag and pocketed them. It wasn't that she was actually scared of him; the awkwardness of the situation was just so palpable. And that feeling of guilt creeping up after she'd managed to evade it for awhile.

She took a couple of steps forward, leaving the money on the table in front of him with an extra hundred added. Money in place of some actual emotional support was all too common for her. "Sooo...Yeah, thanks. Bye."