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

[cmdr-renegade.livejournal.com]

Tell that to the alcohol.

[Shepard closed her eyes, not that it made much difference, and leaned her throbbing head back until it made contact with his shoulder. She took a minute, as her headache waffled between getting worse and fading, before she spoke again.]

You get drunk first or what? [That only sort of made sense in Shepard's head. A bad sign. She clarified:] You're usually the one who keeps this shit from happening, after all.

[allianceman.livejournal.com]

[He had to resist the urge to reach up and brush his hand over her hair when she leaned back against him. As it is he isn't making a move to relocate his hands at the moment. That actually requires more effort than he's willing to exert.]

I'm not sure. After drink number four everything is kind of... hazy. [Not a good sign. Kaidan is ultra-controlled man. This does not keep in time with his carefully measured lifestyle.]

[cmdr-renegade.livejournal.com]

You had four? [No, he had more than four. (Probably quite a few more.) Shepard couldn't keep the note of incredulity out of her voice, even though it was just a quiet sort of migraine-afflicted, conversational mutter. It may have been possible to actually hear the approving smirk on Shepard's face.]

Has the world ended yet?

[She wanted to laugh but just the tension of starting went straight to her throbbing skull. Fuuuuuck.]

[allianceman.livejournal.com]

[He should probably be offended by that incredulity, but he can't help chuckling a little. Which he immediately regrets as it makes his headache flare up. He groans as a result, leaning his head back into the pillow, before responding]

I'm inclined to say yes, but that's probably the headache talking. [and the fact that Shepard is naked in his arms right now.]

[cmdr-renegade.livejournal.com]

[Shepard's sharp exhale was equal parts 'huff of agreement' and 'understated amusement.']

Then there's no rush to get up.

[And Shepard didn't intend to, at least until most of this hangover faded. She wasn't going to get back to sleep, even with the generally hospitable conditions, but just remaining there was good enough. At the moment, she could feel the interior of her own skull and she'd bet good credits that he could too. Talking wasn't, currently, her preferred course of action, but if there was one thing that mutual headaches were good for it was putting a stop to conversation. Shepard was silent for a good, long time, with her head pressed back against his shoulder.


The pounding wasn't improving much, over time. She knew hangovers well enough to know that she needed water. That involved climbing out of bed and actually finding some. There was something oddly morbid about getting up. The word terminal came to mind.

Well. Lingering and hesitance had never been part of her modus operandi.]

You want water?

[It was less a question and more a prompt for him to move his arm so she could get up.]