Cammie & Manny: Hallway Run in

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Cammie, knowing Val is still with Callie, goes looking for Manuel and finds more than she bargained for in a drunk Manny. He never makes it to meet Lex.

It was necessary to take a cab home in this stage, though he'd convinced himself that he was not that drunk and he could have easily driven if not for the responsibility he had towards his sister whom was sleeping over with Callie. It was a relief really, that she had another woman in her life, even if she was a small role model, Callie was very responsible and seemed to enjoy his sister without acting like she was a burden. Most of the women in his life argued with him and didn't heed his wishes where his sister was concerned but Callie did all of that and he mused over what he could do for her while catching himself on the railing and making his way up the stairs. It was slow slow progress and had he not been so focused on the ascend, he might have noticed who was descending.

"Holy crap he does exists," Cammie said. The collision was avoided by the fact that she was, as always, totally sober. Having seen the kidlet running around by Pinky's room and having asked briefly over the phone thought she'd stop by to see if the damn Spaniard was around.

He wasn't.

She didn't care, he could go wherever the fuck he wanted with whomever the fuck he wanted whenever the fuck he wanted.

"Are you drunk?"

"Negative," Manuel said without missing a beat. "I have been drinking your bleach and it has produced some fantastic results. My death is imminent." For some reason, he found this funny.

"Yeah," Cammie said, a hand on her hip, "You're drunk. Possibly too drunk to be any fun. I hear that happens to you mortal men," she said. Well, that was a wrench in her plans, if he was so drunk that the plumbing wouldn't work.

"I think I should deposit you in your room, at least that way when you die the smell won't bother anyone else."

"I have made it this far and I am perfectly capable of making it the rest of the way." He gestured to her before continuing up the stairs.

"I will not fall. Stop hoovering."

"You couldn't walk up the stairs right now if your life depended on it," Cammie said, "People are always such fucking idiots when they're drunk. But I suppose that doesn't include you. After all, you have to be so much smarter when plastered to the point of falling down every other step," she returned the last steeped in sarcasm.

"It won't hurt me to drag you back to your room by your shirt collar. Could be kind of fun. When we get there you can hug my legs and call me mistress."

Manuel made it to the top of the stairs, smiling mischievously beneath a snort and he leaned against the wall, rolling onto his back until he was flush up against it. "I was suppose to see that man, Lex tonight. I may have to tell him in the morning that a green vixen dragged me by my tie back to my room. Vicious little thing, that she is."

Cammie walked up to him shaking her head, "Well, we could call him, but I don't know how you feel about threeways," she said, reaching for his shirt collar, "Want I should call him?" she asked, her lip twisted up in an evil grin. The only thing that stopped her from plastering herself all over him in the hallway was not wanting to explain herself to someone else or just respond by throwing an interloper down the stairs in a shower of curse words and vomit.

His nose scrunched up and he pushed her hand away, pushing off from the wall. "Please. If you want him, go to him," he spat and continued on, his progress to his room picking up some by the annoyance that coursed through him. Drinking with Forge had seemed like a good idea, that was, when he hadn't run into Cammie. Now it was not such a good idea, not with his wit slowing significantly.

Cammie raised an eyebrow, "Okay... I admit he's hot, but he's not the type of guy I'd screw on the drop of a dime. If he was, I wouldn't be here, right now. Or you know, pumped over the fact that your sister isn't in your room and I have a riding crop," she said.

"Or maybe you're just too drunk to be any fun right now. So fuck it. I have a vibrator, I'll just go use that."

"Yes," he threw over his shoulder. "Because it would be so much better to use that." Manuel scowled at the thought of Cammie going to another man and felt it in the churn of his stomach, rehashing old feelings concerning Amanda and Angelo.

"No, it wouldn't be better. In fact, I fucking hate it. Which is why, I don't know, I came by?" Cammie snapped. "But you know what, I really don't need human contact anyway. It's a pipe dream for people like me," she returned, willing herself to not get broken up over this. Guys she liked died. Guys that were just there either got thrown or did the throwing themselves, it was bound to happen eventually. She took a deep breath and turned away, "I'll go now. And no, it won't be to another man or even something run by batteries for your information."

It would be to her bed, a pillow and imagining she could just vanish. That always worked wonders. As slow as Manuel was going, making his way down the hallway, that made him stop.

A hand closed around her arm and stopped her from taking off and he turned her, not hard but firmly. What he got from her was like a vicious slap in the face, sobered him immediately and his hand loosened, gazing down at her. It was such a shift for them that he was fixed to the spot, momentarily reading her through emotions rather than physically seeing her there before him. The colours in front of him always swam and intensified, reading desperation clearly as a night sky littered with stars and he disarmed within his drunken stupor.

"I was not turning you away."

"Yeah right," she muttered, the hurt was driving her nuts. It was just sex, this shouldn't hurt at all. It was just a physical relationship.

Just a way to get what normal people got, even if only occasionally.

"Do you want me around tonight or not?" she asked, her voice hushed, "I'm not the mind reader here. If you'd rather have guy time, go and have guy time. I can take that. But don't go tell me to fuck someone else because I made a bad joke."

"Old habits before my coma," Manuel explained and his hand slipped down to hers, lifting it briefly and drawing it to his chest. A surge from her confirmed only what he already knew and he drew her to him, but not the way he usually did. "I am sorry."

"Make new habits," Cammie said quietly, comforted by the contact, by the apology, though she didn't know what to say. She never did know what to say. When this conversation had gone bad, she half expected to be thrown away like garbage. A part of her was still expecting it. But with each long moment it didn't seem to be coming. "So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked.

"Spending time with.... my riding crop," Manuel murmured, drawing her knuckles to his lips, leaving out the underlying meaning. He didn't need to say it and she didn't need to hear it. Carmilla knew and he let go of her hand, slipping a hand around her waist, lightening the tone that had set a discomfort on them both. "Now. Though I can walk, I cannot recall which room I am in."

Cammie smiled, "I think I know where your room and your riding crop are," she said, "Don't worry, I'm sure I can get you to the bed. Or at least the floor."