Dellamorte Dellamore ,  Michele Soavi , 1994.

hi hello here's a little tag drop !

opening the door had seemed to welcome in the scent of alcohol , and it's heavy enough to make naji's stomach churn. he's already regretting his last drink — and the cigarette that went with it — and now he’s greeted with a familiar face , as well as the sight of blood staining the white of leo’s t - shirt. for a moment, he just stands there , blinking , as if his intrusion is some kind of joke the universe decided to play on him tonight. the other man seems quite drawn to those anyway ( jokes , he means ) and naji's half tempted to roll his eyes at him as he takes in the scene. but he's always been the protective type , and warmth wins out before annoyance can as he ushers leo in through the door . naji kicks it closed again behind them , only after offering the long line outside nothing but a brusque " wait a little longer. " " god , martinez , what are you smiling for ? and what the hell did you do to yourself ? " the fluorescent light flickers again as he dips down to rummage under the sink. it takes him a minute to find and grab the half - busted first - aid kit from under the sink , brown eyes flickering up to look at leo as he straightens himself to his full height again. he wrote off leo as the type to pull stunts like this long ago — it grates on him , but as he pulls out gauze and disinfectant , his usual exasperation sounds like something closer to concern. he tilts his head, gesturing for leo to take a seat somewhere. " whatever. sit still. gotta clean that shit up. "

this was inevitable. he'd been baited into doing a poor man's interpretation of missy elliot's 1,2 step when he'd tripped on his untied shoelaces and went arm-first into one of those ugly, glass coffee tables. it definitely could've been worse. if he hadn't caught himself, he could have cut his face, which as his mother always said, was his moneymaker. instead, he had a thin, but fairly deep, cut on his left forearm. he hadn't even noticed the blood at first. it wasn't until one of the others, white-faced and voice tinged with worry, pointed it out that he felt the warm trail of it down his arm. "shit," he'd said, ruining one of his favorite t-shirts to try and staunch the bleeding and immediately hustled down the hallway to the bathroom.

he cut the line with a few apologies and when he got any complaints, leo simply held up his cradled arm, white t-shirt darkening with each passing second. at least it didn't hurt. he was drunk enough for that, apparently. when he reached the bathroom door, he knocked quickly in rhythm and waited a thirty count before trying again.

when the door does open, leo blinks in surprise at a familiar face and wordlessly holds up his injured arm with a toothy smile. he figures it's a good enough reason to pound on the bathroom door.

deeply obsessed with this

anyone else feeling like what the fuck

are you always this inquisitive with new clients?

just the criminals […] that’s a joke.

naji hates that pout. it makes his stomach flip and his chest go tight , that irrational fear of disappointing her always fluttering in his chest like he's holding in an atrium of butterflies. he swears mabel knows that , too , and that's the worst part. he's got half a mind to smile at the way she's standing now — hands planted on her hips , face all scrunched up , small frame still somehow demanding attention in the tiny hallway — but instead he just rolls his eyes again. it gives him a second to glance away , a low, frustrated sound escaping him. " maybe a little. " his gaze dances back to her again , vision a little less hazy with her standing in front of him. " not drunk enough to put up with your attitude , though. " and — " can’t help the face, i guess. " frustration laces the words , and he's not sure why he cares about her opinion as much as he does. naji decides to blame it on the alcohol. " just . . . you're fine. do your thing. " he finally steps aside his hands twisting together in nervous habit. even inebriated he's no good at being careless ( at least , not when it comes to the others ) and so he lingers in the hallway outside the door. " i'll make sure nobody tries to rush you. "

the  pout  is  instant  the  second  naji  opens  the  door.  mabel  takes  a  pause,  splays  her  hands  at  her  sides  and  turns  to  look  at  the  partygoers  around  her  (  who  do  not  care  one  bit,  mind  you  ),  because  surely  naji  isn't  talking  to  her  right  now.  "  oh  my  god  ?  why  are  we  so  touchy  right  now  ?  "  her  features  scrunch  up  in  a  grimace.  "  i  had  to  pee  !  and  that  was  the  first  time  i  knocked  !  you've  been  in  there  for,  like,  ever.  " '  ever  '  meaning  like  five  minutes,  but  time  eludes  mabel  when  she's  drunk.  and  she's  her  fair  share  of  tipsy,  "  what's  wrong  with  you  ?  you  look  drunk.  and  a  little  bit  like  a  serial  killer.  "  you  can  always  count  on  mabel  for  an  uplifting  pep  talk,  clearly.

𝑹𝑼𝑫𝒀 𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑲𝑶𝑾 & 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑺 . JJ's Deep Sea Charters Commercial ( x ) .