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Jamie Dodger (
2015-10-28 03:12 am (UTC)
Gently pretends I'm not late to the party.
A few months ago, maybe, he'd be surprised to see a new person in Rapture. He had had to sign a deal with the devil to escape the surface, and as far as he knew the devil wasn't taking any new contracts. But it's been a couple of months since he was sober enough to worry about that. Right now it's just... a fact. Someone new is here.
And what a mess he is. Dodger can't complain. He hasn't slept in at least 24 hours, as usual, his veins are pulsing with a little more ADAM than he needs to survive and he smells heavily of whiskey. There's a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one of his hands and a fresh cigarette in the other. It takes him a moment to light it properly, as he fails to snap his fingers quite right.
"Need a hand?"
He doesn't expect anyone else to help. He is a drunkard, and this new man is a drowned rat in a weird shirt. But the slur in his speech and the tone of his voice is enough to say he's not really interested in being much help, and he won't be much help even if he tries. He's mostly just making conversation.
And hoping it ends up mostly coherent.
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