The house was dark when they entered it, and Jodie mentioned that her roommates should already in bed. She hit the light switch for the living room and told Mitch that she’d make up the futon, but found somebody already occupying it. “Aw shit, sorry Ingrid!” She exclaimed.

“It’s cool!” The couch’s occupant threw an arm over her head, and Jodie turned the light off.

“Sooo.” Motioning for Mitch to follow her, she apologized about forgetting that other members of the roster would probably be crashing at the house tonight. “You wanna just do this like old times and share my bed?”

“Oh dang, we going high school style?” Mitch laughed. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“And college? And that time that I was homeless for a hot minute? And then that time that you were between jobs for another minute?” She started to count off of her fingers again.

Realization dawned on Mitch, and he mused out loud, “Honestly, I think I’ve slept next to you more than anyone that I’ve dated.”

“Two gaaays, one beddd!” she sing-songed once the door to her bedroom was shut behind them. The backpack was unceremoniously tossed onto a chair that was covered in various laundry items. “By the way, you still have your gear on. And stuff all over your face.”

Baby wipes and underwear were pulled out from the backpack, and Mitch made his way to the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror before removing the now-smeared facepaint, fixated on the size of the bruises along his neck and shoulders. Had he landed mere centimeters north, the doctor said that he may have been paralyzed. As more stubborn more spots of paint were scrubbed, he couldn’t help but wonder how that conversation with Calvin went, and he hastily willed that hypothetical out of his head.

With the last traces of paint gone, Zevon the werewolf was no more. Now all that was left was an unkempt human Mitch Calvert, with his shaggy blonde hair, his hawk nose, and too many imperfections that he’d rather not be alone with. At least Zevon was a monster, so he had excuses for being hairy and scraggly and covered in weird scars.

It was a Herculaneum task to undress, and he barely had the energy to pull up the pair of boxer-briefs, but Mitch had managed to overcome the odds. He cursed at himself for forgetting a toothbrush, and helped himself to some mouthwash that belonged to one of the house’s other occupants. When he returned to Jodie’s bedroom, he noted an obscene amount of pillows on what he assumed was his side of the bed, and asked, “Do you think that might be a bit much?”

“You’re a side sleeper, and right now you can’t do that,” She pointed out.

The gear was dropped near the backpack, and Mitch settled into the bed. Several attempts were made at getting comfortable, and once he’d stopped moving, Jodie turned the lamp near the bedside off. After several minutes of quiet, with a deep breath he finally spoke up. “They gave a prescription. It’s a written one, but. Y’know.”

“OK,” Jodie softly acknowledged, and Mitch could practically feel her carefully weighing the next few words. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I gotta get rid of it. Like, obviously.” He chuckled softly. Sadly.

“Is it in the bag?” Jodie asked.

“Yeah. I shoved it towards the bottom.”

“OK.” Jodie repeated as she got out of bed. As she loudly rummaged, she asked, “Do you want some weed or something?”

“I really would, yes.” A vape pen was tossed in his direction, and landed on his chest. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Jodie finally returned to her spot. As Mitch took a hit, he could see a small piece of paper of held between her fingers. His eyes went wide as she popped the entire thing into her mouth, thoroughly chewed, and swallowed it.

“Jesus, Jodie.”

Jodie rolled onto her stomach, and gave a muffled, “Night dude.”