As Dick bangs his head whilst bundling into a taxi, he realises he probably had too much to drink. Maggey did too, explaining why she slumps against him when she joins him in the taxi, clearly too drunk to sit up under her own power. His words come out slurred when he gives the driver their address, and Dick’s eyes drift shut. Yes, he definitely had too much to drink.
The thing is, when you have as little money as Dick does (he caused a massive issue in court and Mr Edgeworth cut his salary again), you don’t get to drink much alcohol. So when he gets free beer, Dick has a tendency to go a bit overboard.
“My head hurts,” Maggey mumbles. The same could be said for her; she drinks too much beer and wine when it’s free.
“Mine too,” Dick says, putting his arm around her. The movement makes his smart shirt dig into his back, but he can’t be bothered to move to stop it feeling awkward.
She snuggles into his chest, and Dick hears her sigh. This is nice, the two of them snuggled up in the back of a taxi like this.
They’re on their way back from the local precinct’s Christmas party, at which they chatted to Dick’s colleagues and their plus ones, and everyone had a good time. Although Dick can’t actually remember much of what happened. They didn’t make fools of themselves, did they?
The taxi journey melts into a haze, and Dick jumps when the taxi driver has to honk the horn to wake them both up. He apologises and Maggey giggles, and they pay before stumbling out of the taxi and onto the sidewalk.
But as Dick stands upright, he feels an odd twinge inside his unsettled stomach. Is he going to throw up? No, it doesn’t feel like that.
Oh, he needs a pee. Well, that does make sense; he has drank an awful lot and alcohol is supposed to make you urinate more than normal.
His bladder sits heavy inside him, and Dick groans; he needs to go pretty badly. But when he goes he should probably sit down; last time he stood to pee when drunk, he… made quite a lot of mess.
Gripping Maggey’s hand, Dick heads inside the apartment block. The cold winter air bites his cheeks, and Dick finds himself shivering.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Maggey mumbles, groaning.
“Oh crap,” Dick says, putting a hand on her back. “We’re nearly home, Mags. Try to hold on.”
Maggey nods, but she clamps a hand over her mouth. They drank far too much, didn’t they?
The urgency of his full bladder starts to hit him, and when Dick stumbles and jolts himself forwards, discomfort throbs through his bladder and makes him wince. The tiniest dribble leaks out of him, and he has to pray to whatever gods may exist that he doesn’t wet himself.
Reaching the front door, Dick fumbles with the key and finally lets them both into the apartment. He steers Maggey straight to the bathroom and she shuts the door, locking herself inside. The faucet starts running, but Dick has a pretty good idea what is going on in there.
He still needs to pee, but he has to wait for Maggey to get out of the bathroom. Dick’s legs wobble and he thinks he might fall over, so he stumbles to the nearest chair (one in the kitchen), and flops into it.
And the drunken fatigue hits him, and Dick’s eyelids droop… he drifts off to sleep on the kitchen chair, his head nodding.
When Dick awakes, his head throbs and all he can feel is wet heat. But only his legs feel this way, his smart dress pants stuck to his legs with wetness. What is going on?
He opens his eyes and sees Maggey stood in front of him, her eyes wide and her face waxy. And then he looks down…
Urine pools on the floor around his chair, and that’s when he realises why his legs are wet.
“Oh crap,” he mumbles, face flushing.
He wet himself in his sleep.
“Dick, it’s okay,” Maggey says. “This s-sort of thing happens even more when you’re drunk. Just… it’s okay.”
Dick manages a weak smile despite the humiliation pulsing through him, and starts to wriggle out of his sopping clothes. “Thanks, Mags.”