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Cliff looks at the cards in his hands, almost dropping them to the table when there's yet another high-pitched scream that fills the apartment. The sound hasn't finished reverberating off the walls when there's one more, followed by a ginormous thump - and yet one more scream.
Hanging his head, Cliff heaves out a sigh before turning to his boyfriend. "Marc... Why is she here?" Cliff had planned on a nice, quiet night at home with Marc - who showed up on his doorstep with the handful that is Amanda Tanen.
Marc gives Cliff his best 'I'm Sorry' face, then reaches out and pats Cliff's arm before he turns around to where the noise is coming from. "Mandy! Are you okay?"
"Vodka!" is the only verbal response that comes back. And then there's the clattering of heels against the hardwood floors, followed quickly by a very inebriated Amanda, dancing with a good bottle of vodka that Cliff had stashed for special occasions.
"Mandy, sweetie? Are you sure you should be drinking on an empty stomach?" Marc asks, his voice saccharinely sweet.
Amanda glares daggers back at him before reaching over and grabbing a handful of chips, stuffing them in her mouth all at once, then swallowing the entire mouthful with a chaster of another healthy dose of vodka. When she finally sits back at the table, she wonders aloud, "What were we doing again?"
Cliff shows her the handful of cards and she has a sudden moment of clarify. "Oh! That's right - I lost!" And with the absolute least sexy look possible (at least in Cliff's eyes), she begins to take off her shirt. There wasn't much material there to begin with, but with it finally off, she waves it over her head for a few seconds, and then tosses it into the middle of the table. "Deal me in again, boys!" she says with an overly loud voice before laying her head back on the table.
"Dammit, Mandy," Marc grunts. "For the last time we're not playing strip poker!"
"Yeah," Cliff adds. "It's gin."
"Gin?" she asks. "You have gin?"
After she stumbles around the apartment looking for the non-existent bottle of alcohol, she clumsily tumbles onto the couch. The sound of snoring fills the silence almost instantly.
"Let's go to bed," Marc says, standing as he reaches for Cliff's hand.
As they walk by, Cliff desperately wants his camera to capture the moment, but he knows Marc would kill him. Instead, he just asks, "Is she gonna be okay?"
"Oh sweetie," Marc says, pulling Cliff to the bedroom. "She's slept in worse places - believe me. Much worse."