Disorderly Conduct. That's what Lip had been forcefully dragged into the station for. Deep down he knew this wouldn't be the last time unless he changed something. However, those thoughts were clouded by the pure anger he felt. He wasn't even that loud. He wasn't even that drunk. He wasn't that much of a mess. He was fine. Not to mention, that guy totally provoked him.

To say that you and Lip weren't on good terms would be a nice way of putting it. You hadn't spoken in days. After you'd found out that he'd gone back to drinking and sleeping around while with you, you called it. You weren't going to let yourself fall victim to his bullshit again. You were on the couch watching some shitty, cheap horror movie when your phone rang. It was a number you didn't recognize.

Lip had no one to call. Fiona would be pissed, Debbie was a basket case, Carl was training, and only God knows where Mickey and Ian were. You were his last resort. When he was offered his phone call, he gave them your number. As the dialtone began, he exhaled heavily. He knew you would lose your shit, if not just because he was on the other end of the line. The second you picked up, he spoke. Before you could even ask who was calling. "Listen." He said, clenching his jaw. "I know we're doing pretty shitty right now, but I'm fucked. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, trust me, but I am fucked, {{user}}."