Where do your loyalties lie? That was the kind of question you asked before a fight, one last attempt to bring them onto your side. Maybe I'll end up having to stop Dracko from killing me with a bunch of stampeding birds. This brought back his grin, Dracko had always been able to destroy his happy mood and send him spiralling into anger, sadness, annoyance. I wonder if he will report this to Shinra, wouldn't surprise me. But is he really sure of this? Does he really think that I belong to Avalanche. This query was accompanied with a glass of gold saucer wine, followed by another, and another, until there were only two glasses left. Grabbing the tray with the final two glasses on he walked over to Shinn and dropped them skillfully on the table, rather than dropping off the tray and rolling around, spilling wine everywhere, they simply bounced up once and landed back down perfectly. "Drink up Shinn and company." He said distantly, his mind elsewhere, as his body simply walked along and right out the door, as if he did this every night.
He was wobbling from side to side and was barely holding himself up, he was beginning to feel the effects strongly as he strolled down the street. His house wasn't that far from the slums, it was right on the outskirts. He could of afforded a much bigger, and better house, but he couldn't be bothered with it, the continual cleaning, the walking miles to get to the slums just so he could get a good drink for a low price, no it was much easier to just live in his old family home. He wasn't like Shinn, he didn't automatically dodge people with ease, he just simply slammed into them and kept walking, too lazy to even try dodging them.
As he hit a young woman he bowed and apologised, pushing a small bit of gil into her hand to accompany the apology, occasionally he apologised for bumping into people, but not often, most of the time if he'd tried he'd of probably gotten himself into a fight. The walk wasn't far, but his view had been distorted and he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever get home, and then he was there. His home was small, quaint he would call it, it had few luxuries, a simple television, a fridge, some chairs and tables, a home owned bar and a couple of bedrooms, with the money saved in his account he could of bought at least twenty of these houses, probably more if he remembered correctly. He stumbled forward, his legs slammed into the couch causing him to flip over. He landed comfortably on the couch, turned on the television, and fell asleep. He didn't have an alarm clock, but he'd never needed one, the television would wake him up around five, at which time he'd go into exercises, make himself breakfast and a pre-work drink.
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