so there was this once drunk party last night...

[hyperlethality.livejournal.com]

THE MORNING AFTER MEME

 

Last night was great. You drank, you gambled, you ran around naked, you hooked up with a girl/guy or three-- too bad you can't remember it. Waking up in a hotel bed isn't so bad but...

Who is this person next to you?

You know how it is, folks!

1. Post with your character.
2. Tag other people and try and piece the night together or not. Up to you.
3. Anything allowed so long as muns are cool with it.
4. Profit!

Comments

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[He idly swats at the drool, still mostly asleep. Hope he didn't break anything there, dude.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ NAW BRO you were careful. probably.

This no doubt started from O'Brien mouthing off about the rumor that Spartans are castrated. Anyway, he mumbles sulkily at the swat and shifts closer. Stop moving, asshat. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Well, considering you don't have any ruptured internal organs? Yeah, he was.

Is there even someone else in the bed? Doesn't seem like it. You so tiny.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ WHO ARE YOU CALLING TINY okay he's like totally sprawled across you, here. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[LIKE A BLANKET, HOW COMFY.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ BIIIIITCH okay yeah just like a small redhead ODST blanket. Who is mumbling into Emile's neck. ]

Mgfhgk. Stop fuckin' moving, Rookie...

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Why is my blanket talking?]

Who you callin' Rookie....

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

...

[ THAT'S NOT ROOKIE'S VOICE OH GOD

SITS BOLT UPRIGHT. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[GET BACK HERE BLANKET!

Emile makes a grab for--oh shit, armful of tiny sniper, what do.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ LITTLE GIRL SHRIEK also wiggling the fuck out of Emile's grasp in pure panic and pretty much throwing himself off the bed.

And taking all the sheets with him. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[OKAY, OKAY, I'M AWAKE NOW GODDAMMIT.]

O'Brien? What the fuck are you doin' here?

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ oh god clutching his head everything hurts STOP TALKING SO LOUDLY ]

I don't fucking know ohgodmyhead.

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[He sits up and crosses his arms, and by the way since you stole all the blankets that means he's very naked.]

Cause last I heard, you was all, "No homo, Emile!"

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

I'm still no homo--

[ oh god oh god what did he do last night what did he do LOOK OF HORROR ]

D-did. Did we. Did I.

Emile I don't remember what did I do.

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

Well, I don't think you got any ruptured internal organs, so you're probably okay.

[THAT'S A JOKE. Emile actually seems to be quite calm about all this.]

...you ain't wearing your pants, though. [He nods up at the ceiling fan.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ No Emile you don't understand this is life or death DID HE DO SOMETHING GAY TO YOU.

...why this is his first thought and fear, he doesn't know, because he should probably be more afraid of the vice versa scenario aka did Emile do anything to him, but welp. What am emotional maturity.

He follows Emile's line of sight up to the fan and just. Stands there. And then says very calmly, ]

I'm gonna be sick.

[ brb bolting for the bathroom. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Considering Emile's slightly more concernedabout what he may have done to O'Brien (the alcohol didn't impair his judgment that badly, did it?), that's reasonable.

And seriously? How did he ever survive on a battlefield with a stomach that weak? He yells after O'Brien.]

You want some water or something?

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ SOUND OF VIOLENT RETCHING IN ANSWER.

So, yes. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Spartans always keep first-aid kits in their rooms, so Emile gets a little packet of Hangover Relief for him, though he has to go into the bathroom to fill the glass from the sink.

He sets the glass down next to O'Brien quietly.

YEAH HE'S STILL BUTT NAKED.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

[ STEADFASTLY NOT LOOKING anyway he's hunched over the bowl and gropes blindly for the glass with one hand when he hears it clink against the tile. ]

[ this might be accusing if it weren't so bleary and interrupted by him taking the longest drink ever. ]

You're sposed to--sposed to--

--be Rookie, goddammit.

[ THE MOST UNFOCUSED GLARE IN EMILE'S GENERAL DIRECTION. ]

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Emile looks dubiously at O'Brien and then back at himself. (The hangover's not so bad, really, if you spend a moment to look at how very many scars are on that body, and that the only one that ever took him out of a fight is the nasty twin plasma burns through his chest.)]

You mean you couldn't tell the difference?

[Cause he's pretty sure O'Brien knows Rookie isn't a seven-foot-tall black dude.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

Of course I can.

[ He winces at his own voice, and promptly lowers it to more hangover appropriate levels. ]

Was gonna go talk to him. Got shitfaced, pounded on the wrong door.

[ In other words, someone was looking for liquid courage. He scrubs both hands over his face. ]

M'not even old enough to drink, fuckdammit.

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[Oh.

Emile turns away.]

...Kept going, though.

[And now he wonders if that was an accident.]

[sniperbitch.livejournal.com]

I wanted to.

[ He's too tired and sick to be defensive or lie. ]

Sorry.

[evaskullface.livejournal.com]

[His tone is quiet and very carefully even.]

Sorry you wanted to, or sorry it was me?