#( david emerging from his hiding hole like the little mole man he is: look at us. who would've thought.

[dvnhams]

@hstarke:

Are they fucked up enough for this? Maybe not, but they're on their way. All that they'd shot and snorted and swallowed kicking in all at once. It's always a dicey game they play, toeing the line of a friendship that welcomes honesty and one which does not. "It's good to have someone who's there," he shrugs. "That will see all of my bullshit and still not want to leave. He likes me despite all the bad shit I am and that's big, buddy." Hans points to himself, "He knows I'm this guy." The guy who needs vicodin to cope and whiskey to fall asleep. The guy who lies for living, and wounds to survive. The guy who's stuffing his system with poison, spewing profanities with a man who's just as rotten. "He'd prefer I wasn't, yeah, but he knows I am. And he's there, for when I'm good or when I'm fucking degenerate. I'm fucking self-aware enough to know I need that." Beat, and a hefty sip from his glass. Not wine, thank you very much. "Like I said — maybe you should try it."

"What, you're gonna give Daddy the satisfaction of being the only Dunham without an heir?" He asks. Half friend, half instigator. "I had a kid 'cause I wanted to. But if I were you, I'd be multiplying like rabbits."

Ah, sincerity. His mortal enemy. David makes a retching noise into his glass, eyes rolling back in his skull as though possessed by the ghost of his father's last marriage. Now, in Hans's defense, did David set the bait for him? Absolutely. He just didn't think he'd, you know, fellatiate the hook while he was taking it.

"Happy to hear it, champ." He dons a mean little smirk as he crosses a leg over the other. "Just. Hope your prenup is as rock solid as your dick is right now, is all. You sound like a handful."

Know what? David knows exactly what's killing his vibe tonight. It zaps him right in that moment, a full-body electric shock: there's no fucking music. They've been rawdogging this bender without so much as a sonata in C major, like a couple of fucking peons. For shame. "Hey, Alexa," he calls out, "play Getz/Gilberto on iMusic."

Okay, she replies. Playing Stan Getz and João Gilberto on Apple iMusic. Not exactly what he asked for, but fuck it, who cares. He's not about to get up and find his phone.

He swirls his wine around as those gentle bossa nova melodies start to melt from the speakers. "'Bout that. Got my tubes tied sometime between Dad's sentencing and James's second kid." Really sours the flavor profile of his Ribera Del Duero, the thought of him and fatherhood intermingling. The Dunham Dynasty would've died with David if he had any say in the matter, but he doesn't, so. Boo. "Last thing I need is another court showdown, disputing-the-paternity-of-some-stripper's-kid edition."