*Eight in the Morning*
Finally she began to answer, speaking slowly and in a measure voice, "Your job...is to hate. You were created in hate, and therefore you hate. The Death Eaters hate. That role is filled. And if you were created because someone was filed with hate...Well I don't want to make the same...decision."
Vito stirred in his sleep, his black heart thudding slowly beneath his ribcage, but there was an aching in it that made him feel as if he had been stabbed in the chest weeks before and was still recovering. He breathed in slowly and rolled over onto his right side, but he was somewhat surprised when he felt someone else in the bed with him. Vito opened his eyes and smirked at what he saw; Jack Dyllan was lying beside him in his bed, on the second floor of Satin’s. He tilted his head to the side and tried to remember what had happened the night before, because he certainly didn’t believe that they had had sex. He rubbed his face; his head was throbbing terribly, and a million thoughts were rushing into his mind with every pulse.
She sighed and slid around the bend in the booth until she could look at Vito, who was still lying on his back. "Vito, what happened to you? What are you doing?" She repeated, this time more firmly, as though he needed to answer right then.
The poltergeist pushed himself forward with his arm so that he was sitting up, and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting from the mirror on the other side of the room to Jack as he continued to remember too many things at once.
Vito pulled a lighter out of his pocket, his hands shaking due to the alcohol in his system, and ran his index finger over the switch quickly, watching as a flame formed at the mouth of the lighter. The man brought the flame to the cigarette he held loosely in-between his lips, and lit the end of it. Almost instantly, smoke begun dancing around Vito’s lips. He grinned coldly and inhaled the drug.
His heart sped up and he pushed himself up so that he was standing at the foot of his bed. The room spun around him as soon as he had climbed off of the mattress, but he managed to keep himself from falling to the floor.
Jack bit her lip and slid around the bend in the booth and then off of her seat, straightening out. She went over to Vito's side and knelt, squinting as she tried to look at him though the flickering vision. She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her shoulders, standing up. Luckily, Vito was sort of short and very fit so that he was not too heavy. She grunted, "Up we get," wondering if he was even still conscious.
Vito stumbled over to the bathroom door on the other side of the room, his stomach twisting in uncomfortable ways, “Damn it…” he muttered and yanked the wooden door open quickly, just barely making it to the toilet in time when vomit exploded from his mouth. He fell forward and gripped the toilet seat tightly until the skin of his knuckles was so white that it appeared as it would tear at any moment.
“Where did you put my cigarette, Jack?!” he hissed after sitting down on the mattress, taking his shoes off. He leaned backwards and rested his head against one of the cool pillows, which felt rather soothing to his pounding skull. He looked up from where he was lying at the female who had assisted him, and smirked, “You know, when I’m gone I’ll miss that ugly face of yours.”
Slowly the poltergeist got up off of the floor after a good five minuets with his face in the toilet. He pulled himself up on his feet with the edge of the sink and turned on the faucet. Cold water flowed from the metal pipe into the sink and escaped down the drain quickly, and for a moment, Vito only watched the liquid dance about the sink. He was angry with himself for revealing so much about himself- so many of his emotions- simply because he had felt the need to drink and smoke more than he should ever had. He had allowed his rival to see him at his worst, and it disgusted him. Vito slipped his hand into the stream of water and allowed it to wash over his hands and puddle in his palms before he brought it to his face to wash the vomit from his lips and his chin.
“Mmmm, come here,” Vito spoke quietly, extending his harm and holding it out towards Jack. His eyes were closed, and he appeared as if he were sleeping, but it seemed that his head wanted to continue to frustrate him for a while longer, and so sleep did not take over him. He patted the bed beside him and scooted backwards slowly. “I won’t touch you, I swear,” Vito added, but his lips didn’t curl upward into his usual smirk- instead, his face remained blank, other than his forehead which was wrinkled slightly out of pain.
“F*ck!” Vito growled and slammed his fists against his the counter around the marble sink, his eyes flashing dangerously.