#spaghetto doodles

[need-a-new-hobby]

Haunted

Spencer had his leg propped up on the coffee table, crutches just within reaching distance, while he read Fahrenheit 451 when he heard the door unlock. Instinctively, he reached for his gun but paused as he saw a large paper bag walk in with Piper behind it. “You said you were bringing dinner.”

“Takeout isn’t dinner,” Piper scoffed, plopping the keys into a bowl and placing her groceries carefully onto the kitchen countertop. Spencer moved his leg off the table slowly, limping over to the stools next to the countertop, frowning at the green vegetables. “You look like you’ve never seen a vegetable before.”

“I saw Lisbon, didn’t I?” Piper laughed as she set the water to boil on the stove. She moved to tie her hair up, grinning as she took the elastic Spencer offered.

“You know, you always have those bands, you never wear them.” Piper’s smile faded as he blushed. She leaned over the countertop, brushing his lips before turning back to the water. He watched her clean the stalks of spaghetti before sliding it in carefully.

“You know, Rossi makes his own noodles.” Piper smiled.

“I’m gonna tell him you called his handmade carbonara ‘noodles’. Besides, Rossi’s actually Italian.”

“Right. And what are you?”

“I am…trying my best,” she grinned at him before pulling out the cherry tomatoes and sliding them over to Spencer.

“No, I’m— I’m not good at this,” Spencer stammered, pushing the tomatoes back.

“Spencer, you just have to halve them.” She pouted.

“But what if they fly and hit you like last time? No, no thanks.” He leaned away from the countertop.

“Spence, it’s not that hard. Look,” she said, grabbing a chopping board and a knife. “All you have to do is hold the tomato between two fingers, slip the knife between and slice. That’s it.” Piper gently placed his fingers on each side of the small tomato, watching his hands carefully as he sliced through. “See, easy.”

She let Spencer have fun with the tomatoes as she put together a quick marinade for the chicken and started frying. Soon, the smell of food permeated the apartment as Spencer chopped tomatoes and grated cheese, then spotted the onion. Piper still had his back to him as she cooked the spaghetti, coating it with a rich sauce. Spencer grabbed the onion and started peeling. He cut the onion slowly through the middle and kept the cut sides on the board like he’d seen her do a million times. He sliced through the onion, gaining confidence with each slice. His eyebrows furrowed as his teeth dug slightly into his lower lip in concentration. He looked up as Piper yelped, blowing on her finger. Wincing, she ran it under the water, looking back as Spencer mirrored her wince, slicing his finger by accident.

Abandoning her finger, she grabbed his hand and sucked on the wound before ordering him to keep the pressure on it while she searched for the first aid kit. She grabbed a purple band-aid and ran back as she peeled the plastic away, wrapping it tightly around his finger. “You idiot,” Piper muttered as she checked his finger was okay. “Who told you to chop that onion?” Spencer gently grabbed her burnt hand and she winced, eyes flicking up to his. He started dabbing burn ointment on it gently and suddenly, the pain melted away as she watched him blow gently on her hand until she remembered the food. “My pasta!” Piper whipped around, running to the stove to turn the gas off, sighing in relief while Spencer laughed from behind her. She rubbed the ointment into her finger and pulled on a glove before she scooped the vegetables Spencer had so delicately prepared. She tossed it all together before adding a dash of salt, pepper and olive oil. She grabbed two plates from the inner cabinet and served both of them after setting the table and helping Spencer to his seat.

“You know, the word spaghetti is the plural of spaghetto, which comes from the Italian word spago, meaning twine or thin string,” Spencer nodded as he grabbed his fork.

“Italy makes 3 tonnes of this stuff every year,” Piper said as she sat down. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Not really. The average American consumes nearly 9 kg of pasta annually.”

“Huh.” Piper thought as she chewed her mouthful. “Wonder what would happen if we cooked it all at once.” Spencer choked at the thought and Piper laughed as she passed him a glass of water.

“Rossi would drown you with it.” They spent most nights like this. Just eating together and laughing. Sometimes they’d fall silent with the food just being that good. Eventually, it came to an end. Like it always did. She’d clear up the table, then the kitchen while he’d protest to try and help. And then she left, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. That was the worst part. Listening to the apartment quieten. Feeling the apartment become a little colder.

In the morning, Rossi helped Spencer into his car, placing the crutches in the back. Spencer found a warm cup of coffee sitting on his desk with a little sticky note left on the top. He recognised the little doodle of a coffee and the neatly scrawled pun below, ‘Don’t feel depresso, have an espresso.’ He looked over to Piper’s empty desk. Smiling, he lifted the little note, sticking it on his monitor before scrawling his own. He rolled his chair over to her desk, sticking the pun on her monitor. ‘I love you a whole latte.’

Slowly, he grabbed one of his crutches and moved over to Garcia’s lair. She yelped happily and helped him into a seat before returning to her own. “Thanks.”

“Does it hurt?” Penelope asked as she resumed her seat.

“It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time.” Spencer smiled at his cheerful friend before noticing the cookie box. Except Penelope slapped his hands away.

“Get away, you. These are for Hotch.”

“I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies,” he pouted until Penelope handed him a lollipop. “You know he's gonna hate the attention.”

“It's cookies, not cake.”

“He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened, anyway.”

“Well, it doesn't mean we have to.”

“I think maybe we should.”

“I don't roll that way,” Penelope shook her head.

“I've been thinking about it. The entire time I've known Hotch, I don't think I've ever seen him blink.”

“I know. It's weird.”

“Classic alpha male behaviour.”

“Do you think he stared down Foyet?”

“Maybe. If it would save his life.”

“Do you think he stared the whole time, like with each stab?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is he ok?”

“I wouldn't be, but... I'm a blinker,” Spencer said as JJ entered the lair.

“Spence, there you are. Grab your go-bag. We’re going to Louisville.”

“Just after 8:00 this morning, 40-year-old Darrin Call assaulted customers at a pharmacy,” JJ briefed them on the jet as Piper and Derek flipped through the file. “Eyewitnesses saw him walking east on main street minutes after the attack. He hasn’t been seen since then.”

“Do we have footage from the scene?” Piper asked JJ.

“They’ll have it ready for us at the precinct. The governor’s called in all sources for a manhunt. We have 3 confirmed dead, 2 are in critical condition. Our point person in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell.”

“Any other attacks?”

“Um, no, not yet. Call's proven hard to track.”

“He's never had a driver's license, so he's most likely still on foot.”

“Or public transportation,” JJ offered.

“He's not gonna take the bus. His face is everywhere,” Morgan explained.

“Has anyone found a stressor?” Hotch asked.

“He just lost his job. He's worked at a factory since 1990. Made appliances since forever and not a single promotion.” Piper smiled at the sight of Garcia.

“That's a long time to be bitter,” Emily pointed out.

“Or he doesn't care,” Spencer added.

“Not if he's got a family to feed,” Piper contributed.

“Actually, he's of the hermit variety. As far as I can tell, he's got no one. No wife, no kids, no parents.”

“Nothing to live for.” Hotch put the question to the team. “Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?”

“Because he isn't finished yet. We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim,” Rossi answered.

“Well, the stock boy represents someone. We need to know who.”

“Is he military?”

“Negative.”

“Well, he's lashing out for a reason,” Morgan surmised. “This guy's got anger, endless targets, and a gun, and he's just getting started.”

“Prentiss and Rossi take Call’s address. Morgan and I will see the crime scene. Reid and Bishop go through the security footage. Frame by frame, you understand?” Piper nodded, leaning back in her chair as she watched the plane hit the tarmac.

At the precinct, Piper took Spencer’s 4th cup of coffee, handing it to JJ who was helping with the geographic profile. “All right. We've got checkpoints at the state line on both I-64 and I-65 and within a 20-mile radius of downtown.”

“It's been just under 3 hours with an average walking speed of 2.5 miles per hour, which rounds up to an approximate 8-mile radius,” Spencer calculated. “Did you get anything from the footage?”

“Yeah,” Piper answered, taking a seat next to Spencer. “So, he doesn’t attack anyone until the stock boy touches his arm which made me think that that was the trigger.”

“Like a sensory trigger?”

“Exactly. Especially considering the fact that the stock boy was carrying a knife. Do we know why he was at the pharmacy?”

“What do you—” Spencer asked, looking back at JJ. “Did he not go in to kill?”

“He was unarmed when he entered. The weapon he used was the stock boy’s knife, then the police officer’s gun. He probably went to get…” Piper trailed off in thought before calling Garcia on the answering machine. “Garcia, I need full medical charts on Darrin Call, specifically a list of prescriptions.”

“Hold on, are we saying that this was defensive? We just put his face everywhere,” the lieutenant spoke rapidly, panicking. “People are going to try and stop him themselves.”

“Relax, sir.” JJ’s voice was soothing. “How soon can we have a press conference?”

“We have uh… camera crews ready outside.” JJ nodded, leaving to dial Hotch.

“Hey, Pen, you got those prescriptions for me?” Piper repeated.

“He used to be on thiothixene.”

“He had an antipsychotic prescription?” Piper all but shrieked as she dialled Hotch. “Nothing. Just comes up as busy. Garcia, I need a doctor.”

“Yeah, just give me a… state-appointed psychiatrist Charles Cipolla.”

“Alright, send me an address.” Piper pressed a quick kiss to Spencer’s cheek before he said he’d tell Hotch as soon as he could. Piper weaved through traffic on her way to the office. She pulled off her helmet, racing up the steps, opening the office doors to find 2 bodies mangled on the floor. Her shoulders sagged as she dialled Reid. “I wasn’t fast enough. They’re dead. Let Hotch know and I need forensics here.” Piper sighed as she sagged to the floor in the corridor, letting CSI do their job when they arrived just before Hotch and Morgan along with Mitchell, Prentiss and Rossi.

“Hey, Reid told us what happened. You okay?” Piper nodded, getting up.

“Yeah. I was too late. Couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes.” Hotch entered the small office, repulsed by the figures lain on the floor.

“Yeah, you were,” Hotch shot at her before leaving downstairs. Piper watched helplessly as Emily followed him.

“The pharmacist said he wasn’t on his medication,” Derek updated. “Why would he do that?”

“A lot of trauma patients do it to recover memories,” Piper explained, pulling her eyes away from the stairwell to Derek as Rossi moved to the file drawer, scanning the names.

“Why?”

“Lots of reasons, the main one being you can’t heal from your trauma if you don’t know what happened. In which case, the formative event was probably in Call’s childhood. Other than that, it could be recurring dreams or just plain curiosity.”

“Call’s file is missing.”

“That’s fine. There’s a digital database for all state departments,” Piper solved, moving to the computer.

“What are you doing?”

“All state psychiatrists have a department login. But they don’t disappear when they retire for consultation reasons.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning my login still works.” Piper beamed at Derek. “And if I still have departmental access, then…” she trailed off, gazing expectantly at the printer, pulling out a copy of the file. “I can pull the file. Alright, I’m gonna go back to the precinct, see what I can make of this. Have fun, boys.” She waved before taking the steps two at a time. Back at the precinct, Garcia connected a call between Reid, herself and Hotch.

“Here's the deal. I went back to the beginning for the call, except there is no beginning. Darrin call didn't exist like from 1969 to 1975. There's no birth certificate, no social security, no identity, nothing until he was 6 years old.”

“Guys, if he was abandoned in the 70s, it’s likely his case revolved around something seriously twisted,” Piper thought aloud.

Morgan’s voice flooded the machine. “Garcia, where do the records start?”

“May 1, 1975, a 6-year-old Darrin Call was found roaming in the middle of nowhere and was picked up and was in state care for the first few months.”

“Pen, I’m gonna need state transcripts.”

“That’s the thing my doves. Because he didn't talk, Not for over a year. And once he started talking, he only knew his life as Darrin Call. Little Darrin was never even claimed. But never fear for I’ve got more.”

“This one of your jackpot surprises, Garcia?”

“Oh, for you, sugar, always. So, listen up. Call left Louisville 3 times. Always came back to the same 10-Block radius.”

“Victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma,” Piper filled in.

“Part of him wanted to escape, the other part probably struggled to find answers,” Spencer continued.

“In 1985, he was hospitalised and again in '95 for a few months, both at the state facility in Fayette County. That’s all I got for now.”

“Bishop, what about the file? You get anything?” Hotch’s voice was direct, straightforward but colder than usual.

“More like what didn’t we get. His moral complex is severely damaged probably as a result of neglect. Nightmares and chronic insomnia, scars that he doesn’t know when or how he received. His dreams are about falling and running, all pointing to abandonment issues. He’s suffered from blackouts, probably resulting from early trauma. He’s lethargic, explains why he stayed in the same job for so long. Hotch, this guy is gonna be hard to—” The line disconnected. “Hotch?” Piper raised an eyebrow at Spencer who just shrugged. He turned to Lieutenant Mitchell, asking him about unsolved missing children's cases from the 1970s.

“Now, there was a case in Hollow Creek. Kids were dead, though. Found them in pieces.”

“When was this?”

“'75. Nobody talks about it because they never found the guy. You think Call walked away from there?”

“It's possible. Can you get us the files?” The lieutenant came back with two boxes just as the rest of the team filed in.

“Is there a suspect list?” Rossi took a seat while Piper leaned over Spencer’s shoulder reading the police reports.

“It's in here somewhere,” Reid murmured. “He was known as the Hollow Creek killer. 3 bodies were found, some never identified.”

“There's a survivor,” Piper added.

“Call?” Rossi looked up.

“No, a 12-year-old boy named Tommy Phillips,” Spencer explained. “Parents said he'd been missing for 2 weeks, came back a different kid. The family left Louisville after Tommy told police where to find the bodies. He also said the suspect was a white man in his 30s and drove a red pickup truck.”

“The victims had cuts. The stock boy's blade is what set him off in the pharmacy,” Piper pointed out.

“If this is what Call's been running from, it's no wonder he's blocked it out,” JJ sighed as Hotch looked back to the 1975 on the board. Sterner Orphanage.

“Since he's clean now, there's no medication to block his memories and he wants answers,” Emily surmised from her seat.

“Where would he go?”

“To what he knows,” Hotch murmured. “He's beginning to remember. 1975, Sterner Orphanage. It's where he became Darrin Call.” Piper and Emily took a bike while the boys took a single SUV to the orphanage.

“You used to be a state psychiatrist?” Emily murmured into Piper’s ear

“After my PhD,” Piper spoke into the wind. “Worked in the state department for a few years.”

“What changed?” They skidded to a stop outside the orphanage.

“I thought I could do more good making sure people didn’t wind up there in the first place,” Piper said as she took off the helmet and they walked over to Hotch coming back from the ambulance. Piper noticed Derek and Rossi up front talking to witnesses.

“He took a kid this time. Called him Tommy,” Hotch explained.

“As in Tommy Phillips? You think that’s what set him off?” Emily questioned him.

“She thought it was his reflection.”

“Whoever hurt him years ago might have been the same age he is now,” Piper pointed out. “He might have seen the similarity.” They turned to see Lieutenant Mitchell walk up from his vehicle.

“A minivan was stolen one block from here. Call's never driven in his life. You think he's still not running from us?”

“Which way?” Rossi asked.

“Eastbound. I got roadblocks set up everywhere. He's not getting out of this county,” the lieutenant scoffed and Piper motioned Emily to the bike.

“You’re wasting your time,” Hotch murmured.

“He's outnumbered. You think he's gonna just disappear?” The lieutenant’s voice became defensive and Rossi made eye contact with Prentiss and Bishop.

“I think he took the boy for a reason.”

“I don't care why he took him.”

“You should. Call's memory is no longer suppressed,” Hotch explained. “He's reinventing his past, and unless we understand how, we're not gonna find either of them.”

“Well, I'm not gonna just sit around and speculate.”

“Then don't.” Hotch levelled his gaze at the lieutenant who turned to Rossi

“You don't think we should chase him either?”

“We need to get ahead of Call,” Rossi explained, his tone neutral and soothing. Mitchell licked his lips, considering his options, then moved to the vehicle.

“There’s a kid missing, Hotch.” Emily’s voice was laced with warning.

“They don't need the extra manpower.”

“Since when?” Rossi asked softly.

“If we'd studied Foyet's initial crimes, we would have known that a survivor didn't make sense.”

“Hotch, what does he have to do with this?”

“All we had to do was stop and look at Foyet's history, and we didn't, and we lost two couples and a bus full of people. And I'm not making that mistake again.” Hotch led the agents down to the precinct, Derek following behind them.

The precinct was a mess. There were files everywhere as the examined a case more than 30 years old. Hotch divided the group into objectives. While Rossi narrowed down suspect lists, Emily examined victimology. Piper broke down the M.O. with Derek as Spencer gauged the geographic profile of the second unsub. After a solid 20 minutes of working, Hotch brought them together to discuss the details. “There were only 4 suspects in the hollow creek case and they're all dead,” Rossi said grimly.

“The kids were taken in 1973, '74, and '75,” Emily continued.

“All on the way home from school,” Piper interjected.

“Different school districts too,” Spencer added.

“He waited for them to be alone,” Derek pointed out. “That takes patience. He must have had time off in the afternoons.”

“I can’t find a secondary location,” Spencer sighed. “Could be anywhere.”

“He’d need seclusion to do what he did,” Derek added, clapping Reid on the shoulder as Piper answered the phone.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia.”

“I found Tommy. He goes by James Thomas Anderson now.”

“Is he local?”

“One county over. Address and bio are coming...now. Au revoir!” With Hotch and Prentiss leaving for the address, Piper could breathe freely as she sank into a seat next to Spencer while Morgan and JJ left to grab lunch

“That bad, huh?” Spencer noticed and Piper scoffed.

“Look, Spence, you know I love him and I’m here for him. But if he doesn’t talk about what happened to him out there, it’s gonna keep eating at him.” Spencer nodded, discreetly placing a hand on her thigh. “I can’t even imagine what he went through and yeah, therapy sucks but it works.”

“I think he’s afraid that if he talks about it, he won’t be able to focus.” Piper smiled sadly but then noticed Spencer’s far-off look.

“What’s up?”

“How did Tommy and Darrin escape?” Piper was stumped. They started rummaging through the transcripts of the police interview with Tommy. “We know Call was found wandering around a neighbourhood…”

“Reid, the file. It said he had recurring dreams about falling and running. That it was suggestive of abandonment, but who would he have been abandoned by?”

“Tommy. Tommy must have escaped with Darrin. Tommy would’ve been about 12, double Call’s age in 1975.”

“And the reflection,” Piper murmured. “The woman at the orphanage said he was triggered by his reflection.” Suddenly the answering machine rang, and Piper picked up. “Hotch, it’s Call’s father. He’s the Hollow Creek killer.”

“We know. Call wasn't a victim,” Hotch said. “The question is how did the father explain his son just disappeared?”

“Could have said he ran away,” Spencer supplied.

“The mother would have reported him missing,” Hotch refuted.

“Maybe he said the boy died.” Prentiss’s voice came through the monitor.

“No, she'd want a funeral,” Spencer refuted while Piper was deep in thought.

“What if there wasn't one?” Her voice was quiet, and Spencer rubbed circles on her hand under the table.

“Call Garcia,” Hotch directed. “Ask her to check death records from 1969 to 1975 for the mother.” The line disconnected.

“You need a minute?” Piper tried to even her breathing by focusing on Spencer’s circling thumb, sweeping a strand of hair away from her face.

“No. Let’s do this,” she said before stabbing Garcia’s number into the machine and relaying Hotch’s instructions. “What have you got?”

“6 years is a long time, Pipes. I need more parameters.”

“She lived within that 8-mile radius,” Spencer started. “She was married. Most likely in her 20s. He was probably her only kid. The husband drove a red truck.”

“Okay. This could be one. Here we go, Doris Jarvis. Died in childbirth. Had a beautiful baby boy. Was married to Bill Jarvis. He owned a machine shop just outside the city.”

“That could be the secondary location,” Piper noted quietly.

“It closed in 1980. He hasn't done anything since. I guess he laid low. He had a red pickup until 1976 when he bought a black one. I know that because that's what he was driving when he was arrested for DUIs. He was locked up from '77 to '80, And I'm sending his picture now.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” A photo pulled up on Piper’s screen. “Well, that could certainly be Darrin Call's father. Where's Jarvis now?”

“In the same house. 1457 Hitchens Avenue.”

“Alright. Let Hotch know,” Piper said as she got up, squeezing Spencer’s shoulder as she went to grab her vest and mic.

“Be safe, my angels.”

“Always.” Piper fastened the vest outside as she met Derek and Dave. She updated them on the address and started driving. She skidded to a halt just past Hotch’s SUV. She pulled the keys out of the ignition, slipping them into a pocket before she pulled off her helmet. Unhooking her leg from the bike, she approached Emily and the lieutenant as she tied her hair up. “What’s the situation?”

“The kid's in there,” Emily started.

“We've got this,” the lieutenant interjected. “Tactical teams are covering the exits.”

“Call needs a distraction.” Emily reasoned.

“He's focused on the old man.”

“For now. But we're gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out.”

“I've got a team in the back and one on the way. We're going to infiltrate.”

“You do that and someone else dies.”

“Either call or a child murderer... Flip a coin.”

“It doesn't have to end like that,” Piper dissuaded. “We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die.” But just as Piper thought he’d been convinced, Hotch marched past the without a suit jacket or bulletproof vest. “Hotch?” But he kept walking straight towards the house. “Hotch!”

He ignored the yells from Piper and Derek, headed straight inside. He opened the door and walked in; hands palm up as he faced Call. “My name's Aaron.” He ignored the hammering inside his chest as Call raised his gun towards him.

“This is between us and him. You leave us alone.” Darrin’s arm quaked and his father lay seated in his armchair.

“I know what he did to those boys. I know about hollow creek and the cage. And Tommy.”

“You know about Tommy?”

“Let him go. Tommy doesn't need to see this.”

“He should die.” Darrin moved his gun to aim at his father.

“He should. But if you kill him, you have nothing, and I thought you wanted some answers. Go ahead, Darrin, ask him.”

“Why did you do that to those kids?” Darrin whimpered.

“What kids?” The father’s voice snarled, reminiscent of a wolf at prey.

“No! The ones that we buried. Why?”

“You're confused.”

“Jarvis, why didn't you move?”

“This is my home.”

“You sure it's not the view? Darrin, come here.” Darrin moved towards the door, following Hotch’s gaze to the kids in the back of the school next to them. “Come take a look at this. He sits on the porch every day and watches those kids. He can't help himself.” Darrin grunted, moving back to his father as he released his grip on the young boy. Hotch discreetly pushed him out of the doorway while keeping an eye on Darrin Call.

“We...we drove around in that truck.” Darrin panted.

“You made your own son sit in front so the other boys would feel safe?”

“You...you kept them in cages. And burnt their clothes.”

“And when you finished, you'd bury them, and you made him help.”

“And—” Darrin made to continue until Hotch pulled Bill up by the shoulders.

“Get up. Pretend you're a man. You like little boys, don't you? But they can't be too small, 'cause that would be wrong. What was it about them? They make you feel strong, make you feel like a man?”

“You shut up.”

“Is that a yes?” Bill Jarvis stared right back at Hotch’s levelled gaze. Hotch stepped back, addressing Darrin.

“Darrin. Please... Please. We're surrounded here. The police are gonna storm in here any minute. They will not shoot you if you are unarmed. You need to put the gun down now.”

“Don't...don't... Tell me what to do!” Piper and Prentiss heard 3 gunshots ring out and they sprinted out and into the house, only to see Bill Jarvis slumped in his armchair.

“What happened?” Prentiss looked to Hotch.

“I couldn't stop him.” As abruptly as he said the words, he pushed past the team to go outside. Piper stared at the dead body for a moment before following Hotch. The rest of the day blurred past from packing up the precinct to the jet ride to their dispersal from the airport. Derek and Rossi decided that they needed a drink while Emily dropped Hotch and Spencer off.

Meanwhile, JJ and Piper needed a boost, so they showed up to the smell of takeout and the sound of a bassline pumping in Garcia’s apartment. As they entered, they couldn’t help smiling as Penelope danced over to them with two glasses of wine. The three ladies danced to the beat, Penelope and Piper taking turns spinning JJ. But the atmosphere quickly changed with the Penelope crying over how adorable Will was with Henry whilst JJ and Piper built a pillow fort. It is ill-advised, as Piper would tell the boys later, to build a pillow fort whilst drunk. But that didn’t stop them.

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