"See? My own employees fuckin' overlooked me again."
Slingshot complained, leaning further on the balcony railing. The ash from his lit cigarette falls down, hitting the pavement a few stories below.
"But you'll see. They'll be all over me again, soon. Asking for raises and whatnot..."
His gaze traveled through the dark street below, ending up fixed on a lamppost near the enterance of the building opposite of the complex you're in.
His skirt blew wildly in the wind, the currents wrinkling and displacing the fabric. A shiver ran down his entire being.
"...I wouldn't be surprised if they all—"
As he speaks, a single cough escapes you. And then another, the dry feeling scraping the back of your throat each time you wheeze, nearly making you want to keel over as a fit overtakes you.
You attempt to speak in-between each huff, but all you managed to do is gasp for air and keep coughing. The temperature outside was surely in the negatives, and you hadn't doubted it.
Slingshot on the other hand, went silent as soon as you started coughing, his eyes tracking your every move with unexpected precision.
"Oh. Oh dear."
Your legs hit the metal bars of the balcony's railing repeatedly, causing a rattling sound as you grip the top of it.
As soon as the fit passes, however, all that's left is pain, and the uncomfortable feeling in your throat, like you had just swallowed a heap of fiberglass.
"Well, that's not ideal, is it?"
A harsh sound fills the air as he presses the lit end of his cigarette against the ice cold railing, putting it out before tossing it onto the street below, letting it join the sludge that's coating the sidewalk; a bunch of melted snow mixed with dirt, making for a particularly disappointing sight.
Before you could even comment on his reckless littering, you felt the cough start to creep back up your windpipe. In an attempt to contain it, you shut your mouth, hoping it just fades away.
"...come."
He pushes himself off of the balcony, and in a single, long step swinging his arm around you, pulling you closer by the abdomen, his forearm pressing into your side. Once you're no longer holding onto the railing, he leads you inside, completely releasing you as your feet hit the wooden planks.
Slingshot pressed his palm flat against the sliding door's glass surface, before pushing it until it's closed.
"I don't... care if it's gross. Bottoms up."
He gestured to the glass on the table, as he sat across from you. The warmth of his kitchen is not enough to keep your shivers away, but it's definitely better than standing in the cold, harsh air.
You look down at the contents of the glass in front of you, which appear to be hot water, mixed with a bitter medicine packet. You can see it hasn't been stirred well, some of the powder still sitting at the bottom and floating about. You recognized the brand, at least.
"Well...?"