Part 2:

Jesus fucking Christ, it's fucking Antarctica in here!

For an entire minute JJ just stares, blood shot eyes sunken in thick black circles, before he manages to stutter,

W-what?

Food and booze, yeah? I could eat a fucking horse.

Um…JJ mutters still trying to process Cook actually standing in the small flat.

Come on! I didn't hitchhike all the way the fuck out here just to sit and stare. He stops then and finally looks JJ up and down, dropping his threadbare pack on the ground. Looks like you need it too mate. What sort of shit've you been on?

Nothing, JJ mumbles and looks away, but can't quite manage it as Cook abruptly crouches down so he can stare up into JJ's face anyway. JJ flinches, and Cook narrows his eyes.

J, what's up?

None of your business. Cook just shrugs at that and then gets back to his feet.

Well, I'm going, see you in a bit, J.

I never said you could- JJ starts but doesn't get to finish as the slam of the front door cuts him off. JJ looks dubiously over to where Cook dumped his stuff unceremoniously on the floor of the entry and realizes that Cook means to stay. Sighing, he drags himself off the sagging couch and grabs the spare (unwashed) sheet from the corner so that Cook will have at least one layer to sleep under. He knows from experience that it doesn't do any good to argue with Cook. If Cook has decided that he's going to stay, then he'll stay.