Jacky Hits the Bottle

Jacky fumbled his way out of a corridor, barely keeping balance, and hitting his head against the wall at the end of the hallway. He'd been left alone since the second time he was thrust into a new location, and he didn't like it. He honestly proffered the GELF adventure. At least there he knew a general idea of what people were doing when he was removed from them.

The reason Jacky was so wobbly was because he'd found a crate full of booze-- likely stolen from a derelict-- just outside the room he appeared in. Jacky didn't drink. He made this a rule. If he ever drank, he thought, it'd be a special or desperate occasion. Jacky was very confused and desperate, so he hit the bottle for the second time in his 19 years of life. The reason Jacky didn't like drinking was because it had an immediate effect on him. (He found this out the FIRST time he drank.)

He bumped his head onto a wall.

"Damn it."

He bumped his head into the other wall.

"Damn it."

He fell on the floor.

"Damn it."

He steadied himself to his feet, supporting himself with his hands pinned to the surrounding walls. He felt as though he was going to vomit.

suddenly, he heard a voice. He peeked around the corner, and mumbled quietly to himself.

"Well, look over there, it's those friends of mine!... I think...I mean, I can't actually name half of them...*hiccup*" he mumbled.

<snip>
Just then Jay came pelting down the corridor, eyes and hair wild, a large metal case under his arm. He looked like he'd been in an explosion of some sort, there were black smudges over his face.
They all stared at him dumbly.

“Guys...” he yelled as he chugged towards them.
“What?
He zipped right past.
“RUUUUNNN!”
</snip>

Jacky followed the command like a confused dog, and ran. (though, more of a hobble.)