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[This is really what he wants. What he has wanted, and he's gotten close in the past, but - never this much. Not sober. Ghoul shudders out a little hurt noise when Party gets his fingers in his hair, but it's okay. Just knee-jerk. Ghoul lets his hands drop down to hold onto Party's shirt instead, getting him all wet and just not... caring.

It's definitely a need and he's incredibly relieved that Party knows him well enough to let him do this. There's a part of him that aches for more, for something past this, but that hurts too much to think about. So he doesn't. Just kisses back, intense and a little frantic to counteract the steadiness in the way that Party's got him.]

[Intense is alright. Frantic is alright. Ghoul can feel it, and Party will suck it out of him. Wet is alright, even inconsequential as Party steps up into the tub, easing Ghoul towards the wall. The spray hits them both now, and it's a few seconds before his entire right side is soaked, but what does it matter?]

Hang onto me. [He whispers against Ghoul's mouth, nosing at him, biting softly at his lips.] You're right here with me. C'mon, you can feel me. [Palms drag down Ghoul's arms, show him where he can hang on, around Party's shoulders, at his waist.]

[An anchor. It's all an anchor, and Ghoul doesn't hesitate. He goes right for holding on, hands trembling slightly as he grabs at Party's waist, a little more roughly than he intends. Calm down. Calm down, it's okay - Party's got him, talking to him, and Ghoul breathes unsteadily against Party's lips. Panicking. He's been in a state of short breath for a while, goes in and out of getting worse.

The grip on Party helps.] M'splintering. All the pieces are falling off. [Ghoul mumbles, voice weak. It's about all he can manage for now, other than a quiet little whisper of Party's name. His head's not all the way here. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the dog ripping into Matt and it just makes his breathing skip.]

Come away. [He's falling apart. Party closes his own eyes, mouth open carefully over Ghoul's, catching his stuttered breath. It's scary. He's got it.] You don't gotta be here. C'mon, come away. Remember the sun?

[Don't think about it. Don't think about it right now, just get your body back. Party's hands run over his chest and neck, pressure deeper, slower. Relax.] Sun's out. Sun's out an' the radio's on. No talkin, no emergency, just music. What're you listenin to? Whattayou hear, G?

[What are you listening to? Ghoul slowly settles into the touch, letting Party work him through it. Remember the sun? Remember the sand and the heat of the dry, desert air, the feeling of being in the trans am with all of them, all five, windows down and shouting along with the music. No emergencies, just them, just...

Ghoul brings his arms up and wraps them around Party's shoulders, pulling him close, body to body pressed together.] Somethin' old. Somethin' - s-somethin' Jet likes. The folksy guitar stuff. [ It reminds him of Jet, who is soothing in turn. ]

You like that Johnny Cash shit? [He laughs airily, giving a thin smile.] Don't take yer guns t'town, son, leave yer guns at home?

[Ghoul feels smaller without his layers. Party leans obligingly against him, arms wrapping around his waist. Seems for a second like they'll go around twice.] You hear Kobra, he can go low like Johnny can. Real deep voice, when he wants, right? It's just us. You think about it, just us around here. Nothing else.

[Think about it. Sink in it a while. Party sighs, kisses Ghoul on the cheek before settling back between his lips. Sink. Take it easy. Just them, right here.]

[He does. He thinks about it, he soaks in the memory of just them. Breathes in, breathes out, and slowly lets himself be pulled back together. It's not anything stable - he knows there's going to be issues, that the stitch work is shoddy, but for now, it works. It's a long fifteen minutes.

When his breathing is even, when he's gotten his head back, he sighs, slow, and rests his head on Party's shoulder. All that - all his panic, all his hurt, the intensity of it - it's made him exhausted.

He's quiet, for a long few moments. Then:] D'you - think this is hell?

No. [He responds instinctively. But after some consideration:] ...Fuckin...maybe. [His knuckles dig between the bone of Ghoul's spine, scrub over his neck, behind his ears, under his jaw.] Always pictured it more, uh, more personal.

[The coast seems calmer. Stable. Morbid, apparently, but he feels safe reaching out to crank the water off.]

[So did Ghoul. Always thought it would be more torture and less - good, there's good here. Maybe that's the point, that there's good that constantly gets taken away. Ghoul doesn't know and he's too tired to think about it, so he just lets Party shut the water off and sighs.]

I got... I got clean clothes out in the room. [Ghoul says, muffled into Party's shoulder. He's calmer, definitely.] Stay. For - for a while. I wanna talk to you.

Pfft! [He buzzes, craning back for a towel to snug around Ghoul's shoulders.] Like I'm gonna walk out on you now. Not bleeding? That's cool, I'm gonna go get a cawfee. Naw, I'm staying here. Long as you want me.

[His boots squawk in the tub as he lifts a foot to step back out.] Gotta let my shift dry at least, right? C'mon. [Give him your hands, come on out. He'll back off the second he's asked, but until that time, Ghoul may as well be an invalid.]

[Long as he wants him, good, because Ghoul wants him here for a long time. For now, he's not going to protest being handled with kiddie gloves, because he sort of feels like he needs it. Ghoul reaches and takes Party's hands, stepping out of the tub and pulling a towel around him quietly.

He leads the way out of the bathroom, though, grabs for clothes and, on getting them on slowly, ends up back on the bed, on his side, sort of just staring at the floor. Exhausted as fuck, he is.

He'll wait until Party's settling down.

[He takes his time, too, one eye on Ghoul as he redresses, watchful for missed injury, anything wrong. Ghoul seems deadened still, not as strange as before but...exhausted. Looks better though, Party decides as he peels out of his wet clothes, looks better clean. He lays his stuff as flat as he can and wiggles into whatever Ghoul has around. Feels like living in a sleeping bag, everything a little too big. It's cool though. Smells like Fun Ghoul, so that's...cool.

[His hand slides around Ghoul's side, and Party creeps onto the bed behind him, sitting up to scratch gently along his back.] ...Gonna be able to sleep?

[Nothing wrong, just a sort of tired that comes from being emotionally and physically worn out, from a panic attack and from watching someone bleed out in your arms. Ghoul's got extra sweatpants and sweaters and they do all smell like him, and now they'll smell like Party, which makes him somewhat happy, in the back of his mind.

For now, he sinks back into Party's touch, shaking his head.] No. [He says truthfully. A beat. Something occurs to him. Dully:] The Girl's dead, too.

[The hand at his back pricks up. He chokes.] --What.

She's dead. [He mumbles, pressing his face into the bed.] Died in her sleep. S'happened t'me before. [He doesn't say she'll be back, because he doesn't know.]

[Same as happened to Ghoul. The news...doesn't surprise him. Sours his stomach, shuts up his ability to soothe, but doesn't surprise him. Wordlessly, Party slides to lie down at Ghoul's back. He wraps an arm around Ghoul's stomach, the other folded tightly against his back. He should feel Party's breath slow through his shirt.]

...What about the body?

[Ghoul holds onto Party's arm, with a soft sigh. He can feel Party's breathing, feel him steady.] Buried. [He tells him, face still against the sheets.] Wanted t'burn it, but there weren't the right tools.

...Okay. [She'll come back. Ghoul did. That's how it works here. He knuckles into Ghoul's shirt.] You didn't tell me.

[A beat. He exhales shakily.] I ain't been sober.

[He laughs harshly.] What, I wouldn'ta knocked back with you?

[Ghoul snorts.] Nah. I just keep forgettin' you're real. High don't help that.

Yeah, well, you shoulda said. What're you smokin up anyway, G, they shillin you something at that sketchyass trade booth?

I shoulda said. [He agrees.] They ain't shillin me nothing. [Because he stole it. Mostly he's glad Party hasn't found the BLI meds he's got stashed - mostly he's surprised Party hasn't said something. It's been a while since he's binged this hard.]

S'just coke. Don't worry 'bout it.

[He had no idea how much of a binge it was. But it's starting to come together now. Party pushes up on one arm, frowns down at him.] If you ain't buyin, where's it from? How much? How often?

[Oops, there are the questions he as just wondering about. Ghoul wrinkles his nose. Lies, easily enough:] Not much. Not often. Like I said. Don't worry 'bout it.

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