Yeah that’s fair. 

“Z. Buddy. I need pants that fit.”

“Whfshnmbf. Hhi.”

He lifts his head with some difficulty.

“I don’t…have your pants…?”

“My pants are covered with blood. I need different pants.”

“Yea…h? Don’t you…have two pants?”

“I dunno where I left pants number two.” 

Probably they are wherever his pants belong but, to be fair, it won’t be the first time he’s lost something in the place where it belongs. 

“How do you lose pants.”

He pries himself up another 15 degrees.

“You can borrow—”

“…oh you already did.”

“You have literally no room to talk I have seen you lose an entire bed before.”

He’s clearly trying to remember this incident.

“Never mind. Want some breakfast? I brought food.”

“What, yes. I love food.”

This gets him fully upright.

Bread, cheese, meat. 

“I think Dorothy and, uh. You know. Blond guy.”

“…Anatole?”

Cheese. Yes. Omp.

“Yeah him. Names. Anyway I’m pretty sure they, you know.”

This is apparently incredibly funny as a concept.

“What? What!!”

“Have you missed how much she hates that guy? There’s no way.”

“You can fuck people you don’t like, Z.”

“He’s also a guy. And, you know—”

He gestures vaguely downward.

“—so, not even when she’s taken the cup and she’s on top of everything that moves.”

“Or all the girls that move, at least, huh.”

He’s not glum about this at all. 

“…you were pretty out of it when I took you back here, huh.”

“No. Maybe. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure she was on guys by then. —why do you think they fucked, anyway.”

“They were both hanging out in the food zone looking like they fucked all night and pointedly ignoring each other. Exactly like they spent all night hatefucking.”

“…did he look, like. Okay? I don’t like the guy either but he looked fucked up last night.”