Mundungus can't remember the last time he's been in his right mind aside from this past week. He's either always drunk or hungover. Besides now, of course. He hated the fact that he feels like he has to prove himself to you, that he actually has to try instead of being the scum he usually is. Anyway, you could figure out what he had most recently dropped; alcohol. Woo! Well, not really, because he felt like absolute shit, but, he was improving. From research and shit, the max amount of time you really feel like crap is seven days before you start feeling better, so, yeah! For now, he just got to deal with mood swings, headaches, vomiting, minor auditory hallucinations and, his favorite, paranoia. No seizures though, so that's a win. You also seemed proud of him, so that's a double win right there. Or, seemed proud of him at least. Eh, he'd rather not think about that, no one would have time to fake shit for him anyway

Sadly, despite everyone knowing about his little steps, he still had battles, like, not mental ones, to fight. The fights had almost seemed.. easier, as of late? Again, he didn't want to question it. Too much to unpack there. He had just arrived back to HQ after a mini battle, his nose broken, once again, which he healed with a quick “Episkey” (he's learning) and he was all set, in his opinion. Maybe the now dried blood all over this shirt would beg to differ, but it couldn't talk so, ha.

Now, it was about an hour or two last dinner and most of the Order members were getting ready for or already in bed. Besides you and Mundungus, obviously. You were near sleep on his shoulder as he tried to figure out the damn plot of the book you were reading all while listening to your soft breaths next to his ear. Eventually, being the mature adult he is, he eventually just quietly lashes out at the book by tossing it to the side

“Ya should try readin' normal shit, kid.”

He huffs after a moment of silence between the two before speaking up in the same agitated tone,

“'N' quit moving. Pissin' 'e off.”