plotted starter for @semnhakkon
Acht really, really didn't want to blow this gig. The handful of actual DJ gigs they got these days were dwindling, and nobody wanted to bring back a DJ who nodded off in the booth; if they wanted to keep working here, they'd need to be painfully sober through their whole set. Which, they had been, hard as that was.
The envelope of cash they received made it worth it, though. They now had enough for food and even a warm place to sleep tonight, while still keeping enough to pay Tartar later. And they were hoping to do just that, grab a motel room and crash after soothing this awful headache.
At least, that was the plan, until on their way out of the club, they spotted someone who looked to be in worse shape than they were. "Hey." Their conscience wouldn't let them just leave him here without checking. They adjusted their bag and leaned in to be heard over the music. "You alright in there? Bad reaction or something?"












