"Drink me"
The shot glasses filled with caramel colored liquid lined the table between them. Arthur, for his part, was quite drunk already. This had been a bad idea.
He once had enjoyed Emmet's company, but Arthur had fucked their friendship up. Fucked it hard. This evening had begun as a sort of re-friending, and now it was here, with Emmet and Arthur battling. Shot for Shot.
Emmet was winning.
"You are quite drunk, Mr. Wasserman. We should st-"
"Shut up. You don't get to use words against a wordsmith!!"
Emmet won.
He at least drove the Author home, but in all neither man thought they could repair what had been broken.












