He isn't the sort to spark, usually: it takes a special kind of agitation to do that, and he doesn't let himself get into those sorts of situations. But the alcohol has made him volatile and the honey has loosened his already unsteady control, and try as he might, right now, he can't fucking stop.
It's making his eyes hurt, and while Sipara and OA talk, he fumbles to remove his contact. He pokes himself in the eye, but he manages it, finally, and he flicks the freed contact onto the ground, next to the shredded braids. (Someone will be very confused in the evening.)
He blinks rapidly, and then scrubs at his eyes. They're still sparking, the flickers of light bright enough to wash out everything else, but without the contact to reflect off of it, it's marginally better.
no subject
It's making his eyes hurt, and while Sipara and OA talk, he fumbles to remove his contact. He pokes himself in the eye, but he manages it, finally, and he flicks the freed contact onto the ground, next to the shredded braids. (Someone will be very confused in the evening.)
He blinks rapidly, and then scrubs at his eyes. They're still sparking, the flickers of light bright enough to wash out everything else, but without the contact to reflect off of it, it's marginally better.