I N S T I N C T I V E

(Seven.)

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Next Night

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Dwights front door opened slowly. He stood on the other side, looking pale and sickly while he stared at Ramona. His hair wasn't slicked back right now, but instead hanging on the side and front of his head in a mixture of thick and thick strands. "I'm sorry that I didn't answer the call while you walked down the block. I'm feeling like absolute hell." He said, then walking away and heading towards the bathroom quickly.

She walked in, closing the door behind her. "It's fine- Are you alright?" She asked, following behind him and standing outside of the door. He opened it a few moments later, standing tall with his hands on his stomach. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. He was dressed in a black tank top and shorts.

"Oh god, I thought I was about to vomit." He groaned, then brushing by her and heading towards his couch, slumping on it on his back and putting his arm over his eyes. "Dammit..." He sighed. Ramona walked over to him. "Are you...hungover? Is that why you weren't on the train this morning?" She asked. He nodded. "It was my first time going out in a month. I wanted to enjoy myself, but I went too damn far." He said, holding his stomach. "Did you even go to your company today?" Ramona asked. "How could I? I probably would have thrown up the second I got to the building." He said.

She sighed, sitting her back down on the table with a thud. She started to take off her jacket, hanging it on his coat rack. She headed towards his bathroom, shaking her head. "Men.." She mumbled. She went into his cabinet, grabbing a hand towel. Usually, she wasn't this bold to go through someone else's home like this, but something about his irresponsible-ness at the moment made her both frustrated and concerned.

Frustrated because he was a businessman who got himself drunk knowing that he had to work the next morning, and concerned because he was far too much of a nice person- so far- to be experiencing this without anyone to help him.

She wet the towel, then walking back into the living room. "Slide over." She said, tapping his legs. He drowsily did so, and she sat on the edge of the couch. She folded the towel and placed it onto his forehead. He groaned. "Jesus, that's freezing cold..!" He said. "You're burning up and sweating like a pig. You need to get cooled down and this is the only way. Hold still." She directed, gently dabbing his forehead and neck with the towel.

"Have you done this to other sweaty men? You're really good at it." He joked. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Your jokes aren't cutting it right now. I'm annoyed with you." She said. "Why?" He asked. "Why do you mean, why? You went to a nightclub and drank yourself silly and now you've spent the whole day inside the house vomiting and feeling nauseous. Why would you do this to yourself? You might have alcohol poisoning. Didn't you think about the consequences for even a second?" She said, almost as if she was nagging him.

He stared at her in surprise, caught off guard by her sudden frustration with him. He's never seen her act this way towards him, scolding him for what he's done. He blinked multiple times, his expression seeming to become more child-like. Once Ramona saw how he was staring at her, she drew back her hand and looked away.

"E-excuse me. I didn't mean to scold you like that. I don't even know you that well and I'm getting in your face about choices you chose to make as an adult. I...I'm being more concerned than I should be..." She said, looking down into her lap and putting her hair behind her ear.