costxllo.
❝ Wot, so you’re like… a ghost or something? Cor! I’ve never seen a real ghost up close. ❞ He inquires with all the enthusiasm of a child, and once again, leans in closer to the man as if he’s going to notice something different about him this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Elvis knows it’s probably rude to touch someone without their permission, but he’s completely out of his mind by this point of the night, and he reaches out to jab Paul in the shoulder, just to make sure that he’s really there.
❝ Hey, you’re not a ghost. You’re real! I would’ve put my hand right through you if you were a ghost. You’re a liar. I don’t like liars. ❞ It’s a good thing he probably won’t remember this encounter in the morning, because it’s certainly going to be cause for lots and lots of regrets.
“ WE GOT SOMETHIN’ IN COMMON B'SIDES TH ’ BEVVIES, THEN, ” he remarks rather distantly, partially jarred by the invasion, bitter expression lingering though a potent sadness lay not too far beneath the surface of his words. Thoughts of betrayal resurface in his mind and he tries hard to shake them, clinging onto the slight ( rather consistent ) state of inebriation that helps him cope. Paul stopped drinking for the TASTE ages ago. Now, the parts of him that craved the alcohol craved not the flavor, but the numbing agents it provides. The like of which transports him into a state of mind that isn’t so overwhelmed by the anxieties & the intense self-pity that consume him these days. But he felt himself slipping farther & farther away … into a bottomless pit he could not begin to see the end of. He knows where he’s headed: but does he care? Does he mind that it will ultimately mean his inevitable destruction? Or does he secretly yearn for someone to SAVE HIM, to pull him out of it?
His mind is a jumble. A haze of the alcohol’s lingering effects. A high wearing off & leaving him without an active coping mechanism in his system. This kid is annoying enough, sure, but it’s the drink speaking, he knows that perhaps more than anyone … His company, however, is distracting enough, it demands his attention and PULLS HIM OUT of his head if only for the time being. He can’t stand to be alone with his thoughts. They claw at him. Tear him apart from the inside. Make him drink, smoke, just to get away from the darkness that has haunted him for years now. “ I’d reckon I could drink y ’ under th ’ table if y ’ hadn’t already a three drink lead on me. ” He’s compelling, and Paul REALIZES that his mind has drifted, searches for that refuge once more as his demeanor somewhat softens with the others intrusive yet somewhat effective behavior. “ I’ve some stronger stuff if you’re int ’ rested. Y ’ can tell me more about your li’l stint on Saturday Night, I’m a sucker for a good story, y ’ know. ”