Drunk and Lonely

[Bo Jones]

Bo sighed, bending down to doublecheck. It had been, what, a few years? Give or take? He raised back up, dusting himself off and sighing again. It definitely looked like him, at any rate. Bo nodded and turned back, knowing that the food truck was close enough. He put in a quick order of the greasiest stuff they had on hand, grabbed it, paid the man, and came back.

When he got within range, he'd then all but toss the bag of greasy food onto the chest of the man he'd found in an alley. "There ya go," he drawled as soon as he saw stirring (assuming he saw it, if not, this thread is going to end up taking quite the different turn in a few moments). "An' what the hell are you doin'?"

Now Bo crouched down, looking at the man he vaguely recognized as his friend. At least, this person had the face of Cole Ballard , and this was hardly the first time. But Bo still had to wonder...

[Cole Ballard]

Partially passed out in the street wasn't a totally bad way to end the usual bender. At this point, Cole doubted he could point out the way to his apartment even if he did know what street corner he was stuck on. Where he was now was somewhere quiet; well, save for the way the walls threatened to shake with the bass of a neighbouring building. Well, it mightn't have been a neighbouring one, but in his head it sure felt like it.

There was something of a grumble from Cole at the hit of something light against his chest. Eyes squinted to a harsher close as if he could actually ignore it. But an arm wrapped the offer all the same, even if his eyes didn't open. Was that a familiar voice? He thought to drag his head up but the body rarely listened to the mind at this point.

"House hunting." He replied with a short, sharp laugh and a wave of his free hand; "Whaddaya reckon? Good enough digs?"

[Bo Jones]

"Well, as what's probly yer token gay friend, I'd say ya need to class the place up a bit. Get some nice throw pillows, maybe a scented candle or one o' those wax melt things," Bo waved his hand to indicate the area, shrugging a little as he did. He didn't always play along with things like this but, well, it was almost necessary to have a good sense of humor when this happened.

Bo bent down then, offering a hand to try and get Cole back on his feet. "I'm going to take a wild guess an' say that endin' up out here wasn't the plan? Or was that bit about lookin' for a good place not a bit?" Sometimes Bo didn't know: people around here did some wacky things.

[Cole Ballard]

Cole did his best to prepare himself like he usually did when it came to familiar faces seeing him low enough. There was a kind of iron shield necessity, he thought, because the onslaught was often the same recycled niceties taped together with a personal sense of style. It must have been sad to see him this way. Something terrible must have happened. It didn't happen like that, and it surprised him. Rather, he found a different sense of comfort in having someone play along.

Bloodshot eyes saw the hand that reached for him, and his own went for it with a vague sense of direction. An easy miss on the first attempt, but there was a collision soon enough, and being hauled to his feet carried its own weight. It was like everything shifted into place a moment after he'd moved, and he felt himself going too far forward instead. "There's never a plan, love. There's just this." He explained, shrugging his shoulders with the shift of his feet, "Or that. In there or not, doesn't matter. Ain't it all the same anyway?"

[Bo Jones]

It took a few tries for Cole to catch Bo's hand, and that with some help from Bo. That alone was sort of troubling: usually the disorientation faded after a night of drinking or whatnot. Bo had to wonder if his old friend hadn't been dipping into something else as well, which left the chef wondering if he was enabling or what.

Well, Cole was on his feet now, literally, at the least. "Maybe you should try one," Bo offered. "Seein' as your not havin' one has you wakin' up in an alley an' relyin' on the kindness of strangers," Bo nodded again, before pointing toward the bag of food. "Get some of that in ya." He turned, looking to see if there was somewhere nearby they could go. There were usually parks within a decent walk of just about everywhere in Kalispell; came from the whole middle-of-nowhere Montana thing. Some clean air sounded good to Bo about now.

After all, Cole wasn't likely to be smelling like a daisy about now...