There was a point in Danny's life where he could easily draw a line and say that was the past, and this was the future. Or maybe it was more a matter of what kind of person he was, versus who he could be if he wanted to be something more. Either way, it all boiled down to pre Alex and post Alex. Danny had gone from a life of drugs, drink, and as much debauchery as any human could handle, to a life that was almost domestic and normal. ...Then, of course, there had been post-post Alex. A strange pocket of time spent unraveling mystery after mystery, all while swimming in uncertainty and terror- Like Nancy Drew trapped in some sort of conspiracy theory filled snuff porn.
Life in a post, post Alex world was just chaos, and a sinking feeling of dread that hung about just close enough to always be felt. It had left him an even bigger mess than he'd been before they'd met. Though he supposed it would be odd if he'd somehow come out of it all as a well adjusted, functioning member of society. You don't wade that deep in the government's bullshit and come out better for it. You just didn't.
What had happened with Jack the other week, and the confession from Hex that had followed soon after, had left him on edge all over again. Danny found himself fearing a repeat of everything that had happened with Alex- And though that should have meant he was more vigilant than ever, the hopelessness that had come after learning the truth about the death of last lover lingered on even now, and rather than fight or prepare for war, Danny did what Danny did best. ...He fucked off and got fucked up.
There were certain things you couldn't take when you were on HIV meds. Technically he shouldn't have been taking anything, but if you knew how to walk the tightrope, it wasn't so bad. The blues were fine, powder was alright, but the reds were right out. They'd make him crash hard, and getting your stomach pumped on a Sunday night wasn't anyone's idea of a party. He was buzzing though, two shots of vodka, one of the blues, two lines... Pulse was a bit quick but that was alright, that was fine. Everything was fine.
Everything was great.
He didn't know who was dancing with, but they were warm and they moved just right. They moved exactly right, and Danny was so good at this. He didn't have a single life skill you could put on a bloody resume, but he could do this. He was king of the fucking club scene, darling. He was swagger and lust, and as the bpm got higher, so did he, never missing a single beat.
"You're bloody brilliant," he told his dance partner, leaning in and speaking right in their ear. "Buy me a drink?"
(OTA, late tags and slow time super welcome! Danny is stoned out of his skull, but in a good mood. ...Yay? Feel free to kill his buzz or encourage this wicked behaviour.)