an unkindness of ravens

trente-sept

— trente-sept ; thirty seven —

HENRI DIDN'T WANT to be stuck inside a hotel room anymore

They'd returned from the Foxhole Court to their hotel an hour ago and Henri was exhausted from the day that had dragged on for too long. His headache was back with vengeance and he just felt ill in general, from some stupid bug that refused to leave him alone. He'd crawled under the covers the moment they'd gotten in with the intention of sleeping it all off and waking up tomorrow, but he still hadn't managed to find sleep. He kept thinking about what Soren had, what Jean had said, what Jack had said. Too many voices. Too many thoughts.

Finally, he gave up and got out of bed. Soren looked at him from his side of the room as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Henri wasn't really sure what the deal between them anymore was — the silence had been broken but it didn't feel like everything had gone back to normal. He was still annoyed about what happened on the coach, but more than, couldn't shake everyone's reminders that Soren would end up breaking his heart. It felt more significant that ever with the recent events and Henri didn't know how he could get over that.

"Where are you going?" Soren asked.

"Bar," he replied, without really thinking about it. He had never felt the urge to get drunk before but alcohol suddenly seemed like a very easy escape to forget his problems for a little bit. He left before Soren could comment on that.

First stop, Kit and Lucas' room. "Evening," Kit greeted, swinging the door open with a smile. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm going to get outrageously drunk and I'm here to see if anyone wants to join," Henri said. "Drinking alone feels a little too alcoholic."

Kit's eyebrows shot up but Zena appeared behind him before he could reply, looking interested. "Now this sounds like a fun way to spend a Saturday night," she smirked. "I'll happily join."

"Great. Kit?"

"Sure," Kit said easily. "Why not."

"Lucas?" Henri asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

He was sprawled across his bed on his phone and shook his head. "I'll pass but have fun guys."

They stopped off at Loren's room next on the way down and she was happy enough to join them. The hotel bar wasn't that exciting, wrapping around the room with barstools and a few tables, but it was still nicer than Matt's bar. They'd slipped into seats at the bar when he realised they weren't alone — a few seats down, Alixis, Aria and Jude were sat together with their fair share of drinks. Clearly Henri wasn't the only who wanted to take advantage of the hotel bar. The latter turned away the moment he saw them but the girls looked at Henri for a second longer until he looked away.

Getting drinks would have been a struggle if not for Zena, who had a fake ID. She ordered a round of shots and the bartender didn't seem to care enough to ask for the rest of their IDs. They all picked up a shot to start things off and Henri was surprised when Loren joined them.

"Since when do you drink?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Thought I'd try it for a change."

Henri knocked back the shot and didn't even wait for the others before grabbing the next one, following it in the same gulp. The burn down the back of his throat was strangely satisfying and he didn't hesitate with the third and fourth shot that followed.

"Jesus," Zena said, staring at him when he finally set the fourth empty glass down. He was already beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, fuzzy and warm.  "There are easier ways to kill yourself, Henri."