Who: Manhattan and Brian
Where: Manhattan's couch
When: Way too early in the morning

With a grimace and a groan Manhattan put a hand to her throbbing head as she sat up blindly on the couch. She wasn't ready to focus on anything just yet and had kept her eyes shut during her maneuver to shift from a prone position to a sitting one. It took a moment to sink in that she had pushed upward, not from the piece of furniture itself, but the solid form of a person. And a moment after that for pieces of the previous night to start working there way into her memory. There'd been much drinking, quite evident by the empty whiskey bottle laying side ways on the floor at the base of the sofa. Who had succumbed first to the affects of the alcohol, her or Brian, wasn't all that clear in the hunter's mind at the moment.

"Shit." She groaned again letting her head drop to the back of the couch. She needed coffee, steaming and black, but lacked the will to move her ass off the sofa to get to it at the moment.

Her "pillow" made a mumbling noise, completely unintelligible, and shifted under her. Brian was still pretty much out, having enjoyed a sleep that was closer to drunken unconsciousness than actual sleep-- but at least that meant no dreaming. The fact that he had his drinking buddy sleeping half-across him hadn't registered-- it hadn't been important the night before, since they had pretty much happily passed out where they sat and had wound up in a bit of the tangle. He shifted again at the sound of the curse, one hand sliding up to his face to rub at his cheeks, only half awake, eyes not even open yet. Not even thinking of opening yet, in fact.

Manhattan cracked open her eyes at the mumbling and cant her head slowly to the side until her cheek came to rest against the back of the sofa. A move that proved only to worsen the throbbing in her head.

"Morning Sunshine." Manhattan said when she noted the form on the couch, the one that had provided her with a body pillow to rest on after she had fallen into a drunken oblivion, move, and then lift a hand to his cheeks. Neither was completely with it, it'd probably take up to an hour for the pair to fully regain full use of their senses.

"Mmrmph?" Brian didn't like the sound of that, so he made an attempt to roll over-- and very nearly fell off the couch. Only a flailing hand caught him before he did, and he blinked blearily at the floor, eyes open now whether he wanted to or not. Where the hell was he? That didn't look like his carpet.

Had she been herself, Manhattan most likely would have made an attempt to make a grab for Brian to ensure he wouldn't tumble off the couch, or have given him that extra little push to make sure his body met carpet. But as it was she wasn't willing to volunteerally move a single muscle in her body. So she just sat there watching Brian for that instant as he flailed to keep himself from rolling over the edge onto the floor before letting her eyes droop closed once more.

Brian managed to lever himself back up the rest of the way and squint over at Manhattan. "Oh," was all he said when he registered who that blonde woman was. Apparently this was her house. Which he'd gone to the night before. To get very, very drunk and tell about Domino. He was sure the former happened; not so sure on the second, anymore.

"Ow," he added after a moment, as he woke up enough to realize his head was pounding and light was Bad. He flopped back into the couch cushions with a groan, putting a hand over his eyes. "S'too bright in here." He knew he ought to get up and get something to drink, and eat, but that would require movement. And sight.

"Just think how much brighter it would be if I'd of drew open the curtains." Manhattan remarked back with closer eyes. Something she had no intention of doing as it would require her to move. And right now moving wasn't something the hunter was planning on doing anytime soon. Sitting immobile on the couch was suiting her just fine at the moment.

"You do that, and I will hurt you," Brian replied. "Or more like, I'll j-just make sure the curtains won't move." So there. He could totally do that. Even with a hangover the size of Texas. Really. "So we obv-- we really got drunk last night." Hello, mister obvious, how are you today? "D'you remember much?" No, he wasn't asking if they'd fucked; their clothes were both still on and decent. He wanted to know if he'd gotten the Domino bombshell out or not, dammit.

She was too tired and hungover to throw a sarcastic comeback at him or give even a slight hint at something sexual having happened, even if they were still both fully dressed. So Manhattan went with straightforwardness. At least what she could recollect from the previous evening, and even that was quite foggy in her mind.

"There was way too much drinking. Talk of a co worker of yours and someone saying they were pregnant. Fuck. I need coffee." Manhattan grumbled with an attempt to rise from the couch, only to slump back down again. Movement definitely wasn't going to happen in the very near future.

Well, that meant he'd probably brought up Domino-- though he had no idea what the "pregnant" thing was about. Whether Manhattan remembered just what had been said, or not, was still up in the air. Brian propped himself up on his elbows to watch her short-lived sitting up. "Your house, Man'. I don't know where the fuck your coffee is, so it's all on you." Which was mostly true; they had, in the past, done most of their drinking out or at his place, seeing as he'd lived alone and she didn't. She probably knew exactly where his coffee was, and he really hadn't a clue, though he could probably find it if he tried.

"I hate you." She growled. He was right, though. Brian hadn't been there all that often to really know where anything was. She could still hate him for the fact that she now had to remove herself from the sofa if she wanted to have that said cup of coffee.

With a groan and a grunt Manhattan slowly pushed herself up from the couch, a moment taken once she was on her feet to steady herself and get her bearings through the intense throb in her head. Her walk slow, but pretty much steady, as she made her way toward the kitchen.

"Will you still hate me if I let you have company in your misery?" Brian asked, levering himself up a bit more, working on the process of getting up, himself. He wanted some of that coffee, too. It just might take him a minute to actually get up-- especially as his knee gave a painful spasm when he tried to move it. He hissed a little at it, leaning over to give it a careful massage with one hand, trying not to lose what little balance he had and fall off the couch, for reals.

"Absolutely." Was the response Brian got in return.

Getting the coffemaker properly prepared and running Manhattan closed her eyes as she leaned lightly against the edge of the counter as the coffee brewed. She wasn't about to sit herself anywhere cause if she did that her body would be refusing to let her get up to her feet again.

"Then maybe I'll just stay right here!" Brian called after her, then winced as his own loud voice hurt his poor head. "Since it's the same either way...." Besides, getting up meant getting his goddamn fucked up knee to stop hurting. But getting up also meant coffee. Damn.

Manhattan wasn't alone in the kitchen, though. Somehow, during the night sometime, Torziel had managed to sneak inside and avoid detection by the various dogs. He was, in fact, seated primly on the kitchen table, and his eyes followed Manhattan as she came in and set about making her coffee. The minute she closed her eyes again, he let out a loud, demanding, head-pounding meow.

The throbbing in her head had finally gotten to a dull throb when the non cat decided it needed to make it's presence known. Manhattan's eyes shot up, an action that sent a migraine strenth throbbing shotting through her head. Manhattan glowered at the beast, making a blind reach for the nearest object to throw at the non animal. First thing her fingers found was a mug which was soon sent careening through the air toward Torziel. It was a few seconds after that the hunter remembered she was still armed with her glock, which surprisingly was still tucked nicely in the waistband of her jeans, fingers soon found the handle of the weapon and slowly drew it forth for all the good it would actually do her.

Torziel ducked the mug easily, and just blinked wide, golden at her gun. She wouldn't shoot him-- she knew what he was to Brian, so he knew that he was safe enough. The crashing sound of mug breaking against wall, though, brought Brian in at a rapid hobble, and he groaned at the sight of his familiar. "Goddammit, Tor, how'd you get in here?"

That same shattering mug brought Pride wandering into the kitchen following Brian to investigate. Then jump at the table, once he realized the cat had intruded onto the premises, front paws landing at the edge of the table top as Manhattan reacted, a bit slow with her movements, just catching the animal by the collar before he could manage a complete jump up onto the table and get to his intended target. "Get the damn thing out of here." She growled to Brian while trying to tug a growling Pride away from the table. Why had she even bothered waking this morning.

Torziel, fluffed up and spitting, leapt off the table and bolted before Brian could do more than take a step towards him. There was no way in hell he could chase after him, not with a stiff and aching knee and a cloudy and aching head. "You'd better be heading outside!" he called after him, then winced and put the palm of a hand to his temple. "Fuck."

Great. Now she had to go and block Pride off in one of the bedrooms. Manhattan couldn't very well release the dog into a free run of the house, he'd just go tearing off after the damn cat beast thing. "Coffee shouldn't take too much longer." The hunter grumbled to Brian as she moved to drag Pride off to confinement into the nearest bedroom.

Upon her return to the kitchen Manhattan slumped down onto one of the chair, her head sagging to the tabletop to rest on her crossed arms. Not only was her head throbbing at its worse, her stomach was now in a slight state of nausea.

By then Brian was sitting at the table, too, bad leg stretched out and the other bent. He had two coffee mugs out, full, and sitting in front of both his chair and the one he'd anticipated for her. "Sorry about him," he said around a sip of the hot, black, wonderful stuff. "Tor, I mean. He's... yeah. I don't have much control over him." Though leaving him outside all night had been a little mean of him. Truth be told, he'd just forgotten about him.

Manhattan just mumbled incoharently at him as a hand crept out from beneath her head to capture the other mug that had been filled pratically to its brim with the steaming brew. "I'm forever swearing off drinking." She grumbled with that first sip of steaming coffee once her head lifted enough to allow the mug to touch to her lips. That thought, like many a previous times past, wouldn't stay long with Manhattan. This morning, like others in the past, would be just a faded memory come the following day.

"Yeah, somehow I doubt that one," Brian snorted lightly, vaguely amused. "Kind of like how I swear off it every time I do this, and wind up back at it again a couple days later." It was a really bad habit. He really needed to kick it. Really, really. "Gimme a few to wake up a little more, and I'll make breakfast," he offered. "I bet I could find the eggs and bread and things just fine."

"God, please don't mention food." She groaned. Just the mere thought of eating made her more nausous then she already was, course once she had a good infusion of black coffe in her Manhattan might be more apted to eating. Especially if Brian was going to be the one cooking something up.

"It'll help," Brian said firmly. Well, it helped him, anyway. His hangovers didn't really come with nausea-- or, rather, the hint he got went away when he ate. "Promise." It came out coaxing, wheedling almost. So maybe the best medicine of all, for him, was actually doing something, and cooking came most naturally. And he'd feel bad cooking just for himself in someone else's house when he could be cooking for his friend.

"Just try and go easy with the pots and pans." She grumbled out with the consumption of more of the black, steaming brew in her mug. The banging of them would only serve to increase the throbbing in her head, a throbbing which seemed to be lessening just a bit.

"Seeing as I can cheat with that kind of thing, and my head's probably just as bad as yours," Brian pointed out, "yeah, I will be. Once I can get up and bring myself to move around, anyway. Sleeping on the couch wasn't probably the best idea...." Stupid goddamn fucked up knee.

"We could have moved the party to my bed..." The hunter grinned lightly. A tiny bit of the blonde's normal self seeming to have been restored. Mostly in part due to the infusion of caffeine.

"At least that would've been more comfortable," Brian shot back, for the moment not commenting on the innuendo, though a brow raise and a smirk showed he wasn't ignoring it. "Though I'd like to have seen you try to walk that far, last night." He didn't mention that he was in just as bad of shape; she would know that, and even so, trying to watch another drunk person stumble around tended to be even more hilarious when one was in the same condition. "You'd probably have passed out on the stairs, and then where would you be?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have gotten anywhere near the stairs." She grumbled back. If Manhattan would have tried getting up from the couch she wouldn't have managed to make it two feet before she would've found herself meeting the floor.

Chuckling, Brian sucked down some more of his coffee and asked the burning question on his mind: "So you remember me talkin' about Domino, right?"

"Domino...Domino..." Manhattan repeating the name as she tried searching her mind to connect the name with anything said the previous night. "He's an employee of yours, right?" Probably wasn't exactly what Brian had been fishing for, but at least she remembered something with a bit of clearness.

"Ah, hell. I've gotta tell you twice," Brian groaned. "Yeah, he's an employee. I'm also dating him." Cue the wince, or the stare, or the whatever. Maybe she'd be like Mya and hit him-- though she hadn't last night. He thought he'd remember that. Really, he wasn't sure he remembered how she'd reacted the first time... he had a vague memory of her spitting alcohol.

"Oh. That Domino." Yes it was all coming back to her, though in quite a slow stream, that part of the conversation she had had with Brian. "The one who gives you what a girl can't." Manhattan giving him a sweet smile or the best rendition of one she could muster. "And no I don't have much of a problem with it." She added before taking a couple sips of her coffee. She kind of remember him questioning her on that bit after the response he received after sharing the info.
And really she didn't. There was much more to Brian then who he was sharing his bed with. He was a good friend and a damn good drinking buddy, and really wasn't that what matter most.

"Haha," Brian said, a little snidely. "You know, I have been with women before. I like them just fine." He just... happened to be into Domino right now. He liked to think of myself as 'not picky'-- though Domino might not think so, given his scruples with sleeping around. Now that was a person who wasn't picky. "But I'm glad you're okay with it... that means a lot to me."

"So. You goin start with the making of breakfast or is it going to be making itself." Manhattan's words were more rhetorical then anything. The hunter eased herself up from her chair, making the short walk to refill her mug. The pot was then held out slightly in Brian's direction with that silent question "Do you want more?" If he did she'd refill what he had consumed.

"Yeah, yeah." Brian rolled his eyes lightly, but he grinned. The subject was, apparently, closed, and he was fine with that. He slid the mug a little closer to her direction. "You pour me some more coffee, I'll get started on the food." And with that, he pushed himself to his feet with a little grunt and set about seeing where she kept her eggs and bread.