Yoruichi was filled with drunken rage. He glowered at Jeriya, ignoring the raised voices, the banging on the wall. One thing stood out to him amongst all the fiery words, one fact that was so completely untrue that in his inhibitionless state, Yoruichi couldn't help but react.
His voice was low, gravelly, and a little more serious than it had been before. "You don't know anything about me, Jeriya... I have loved. I have loved another more than my own fucking life and he left in the most total and absolute way, so don't you dare lecture me on my-—" Yoruichi cut himself off with an deep breath. He didn't want to talk about his brother. He didn't even like to think of the man. Even so many years later, that old wound stung like a bitch, and he wasn't about to reopen it with stupid confessions and an alcoholic feeling fest. He wasn't quite drunk enough yet.
Yoruichi staggered to his feet, looming over the bed, looming over Jeriya (if he had only been a foot taller, anyhow) and glared. "As far's I know, the world is against me. I'm a merciless dick, don't you get that? I'm a terrible person, Jeri-chan. So forgive me f'r'not believing you c'n love... this." His voice was not self-pitying. It was factual - certain - as though he had long ago convinced himself of his lowness in life and was merely reciting his script.
The drunk male, just barely managing to keep his words straight and unslurred, lifted himself onto the bed with a cat-like grace. He sat perched there, eyes wide and owlish, staring at Jeriya as though he was a foreign object that Yoruichi did not understand. It was eery. Challenging. "If Jeri-chan is going to be so adamant, he can at least tell me why."
His voice was low, gravelly, and a little more serious than it had been before. "You don't know anything about me, Jeriya... I have loved. I have loved another more than my own fucking life and he left in the most total and absolute way, so don't you dare lecture me on my-—" Yoruichi cut himself off with an deep breath. He didn't want to talk about his brother. He didn't even like to think of the man. Even so many years later, that old wound stung like a bitch, and he wasn't about to reopen it with stupid confessions and an alcoholic feeling fest. He wasn't quite drunk enough yet.
Yoruichi staggered to his feet, looming over the bed, looming over Jeriya (if he had only been a foot taller, anyhow) and glared. "As far's I know, the world is against me. I'm a merciless dick, don't you get that? I'm a terrible person, Jeri-chan. So forgive me f'r'not believing you c'n love... this." His voice was not self-pitying. It was factual - certain - as though he had long ago convinced himself of his lowness in life and was merely reciting his script.
The drunk male, just barely managing to keep his words straight and unslurred, lifted himself onto the bed with a cat-like grace. He sat perched there, eyes wide and owlish, staring at Jeriya as though he was a foreign object that Yoruichi did not understand. It was eery. Challenging. "If Jeri-chan is going to be so adamant, he can at least tell me why."