Lips like Liquorish, {{OPEN!}}

[TABZ ?!]

Am I forced to have any regret?
I've become the lie, beautiful and free
In my righteous own mind
I adore and preach the insanity you gave to me

A dull ringing ricocheted within the back of his mind while he attempted to decipher what it was within the confines of hazy laden sleep. Maybe the fire alarm.... FIRE! Eyes jerked open while mouth opened to start yelling gruffly but before words could even escape from his lungs he silenced them only to glare down at his watch. It was beeping like a damn fiend while flashing 6am in blue lights. Hand rose to swipe at sleep filled eyes while a groan rocked from his vocal chords, fuck his life right in the ass. Eyes caught sight of the empty bottle of rum tipped over on the floor and his suit jacket tucked neatly on his desk where he had just awoken from. Another night sleeping piss drunk in his office, his back was going to be on haggard mess later.

Yawn tore across facial features while he stood stretching out screaming muscles and tendons, whole body quivering in un comfort from being balled up in a chair bent over a desk for four hours. Yup, he was still drunk.

Grin strayed over his lips while he staggered to a closet tucked in the corner, he may be a drunk but he was a prepared one! With fumbled movements he undressed and pulled on new clothes consisting of slate gray fitted suit pants and midnight blue dress shirt. Fuck the ties he wouldn't be caught dead in one, and fuck the jacket he just wasn't in the mood for one today. Oh, and guess he was free ballin' it today too! "Who needs drawers..." he slurred to himself, a fit of laughter doubling him over. He quickly tried to regain his composure but laughter still frayed the edges of his face, an unusual sight to most.

Haphazardly he moved out of his office, tripping as he attempted to put suave shoes back on, staff reaching out to help him only to be brushed away. They knew the drill, it was a typical Sunday with Damian still drunk as a skunk and trolling the hallways. The didn't dare to judge or call him out on it so there was a blind eye for him to do as he pleased. He signed their paychecks after all.

Brow soon furrowed as he shuffled around the halls, the craving for nicotine rippling through his veins and skittering along nerves. Hands patted pockets demandingly, coming up empty and anger billowing up into facade. "DAVIDSON! Lend me a smoke you fat fuck." and with that a guard slightly offended and scared tossed over half a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, never once receiving a thank you or even the slightest acknowledgements. Wlecome to the life of Damian.

Robotic and drunken steps maneuvered buzzed being outside into the yard, he refused to smoke in his office because the stink was unbearable, but of course he would smoke in other doctor's offices just to piss them off. Snagging a cancer stick from the pack and flicking the lighter to life he took a long drag as if it would save his life from something devastating, then just as quick he let a long billowing cloud snake from his lips to curl up into the barely brightened sky. Eyes surveyed his surroundings blearily before landing upon a spot of red errupting from scenery. What was that girl's god damned name?

Steps wandered over to her only to plop down on the ground near her, still huffing away at his smoke. "Elizabeth right? or Tara?" he growled out, voice still gruff from sleep and the savageness of nicotine and tar coating his throat. He knew her now, he file blipping within his mind quickly as if he had it right in front of him.