It takes him two trips to load everything into the truck, because he's not only having to grab his shit and maneuver it out of the club, but he also needs to go back for Sam's. He does his best to outright ignore Sam and the way he's nearly melting into the seat of his truck, hoping that he doesn't vomit [he doesn't let people puke in his truck, no way in fucking hell... and the one time that happened was when Quinn was pregnant, so she got a pass on that].
Plans made when drunk are never Super Awesome; they're always Super Stupid, and he smacks the glass of the driver's side window to startle Sam when the truck is loaded up and they're ready to get out of there. [But first, he takes a picture of Sam, sprawled out half-drooling and dazed against the window, just in case he needs to quickie-text it to Quinn later as an explanation of why he's not at her place.] "Hey!" he barks sharply. "Move your ass over." He could shove Sam into the passenger seat, but that would involve first opening the door, and he doesn't want roughly 180 pounds of Sam falling out of the truck and onto him. [Okay, to be fair, he doesn't want Sam to hit the pavement, either.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-08-16 01:27 am (UTC)Plans made when drunk are never Super Awesome; they're always Super Stupid, and he smacks the glass of the driver's side window to startle Sam when the truck is loaded up and they're ready to get out of there. [But first, he takes a picture of Sam, sprawled out half-drooling and dazed against the window, just in case he needs to quickie-text it to Quinn later as an explanation of why he's not at her place.] "Hey!" he barks sharply. "Move your ass over." He could shove Sam into the passenger seat, but that would involve first opening the door, and he doesn't want roughly 180 pounds of Sam falling out of the truck and onto him. [Okay, to be fair, he doesn't want Sam to hit the pavement, either.]