( two )

[caipirinha]

my character gets into bed with yours, or vice versa;
what happens?
have you crawled under the covers for some friendly
cuddles, or are your intentions not so innocent?
are you planning some form of practical joke, or are
you just plain drunk?
maybe you just have no idea what's going on.

( adapted from the plurk meme! )

Comments

[influential]

Time for you to tell me what exactly we are doing here, I believe.

[ Today is a day for sounding awfully bored with life. ]

[abditive]

[Well, the voice gets a reaction. Even if it is the smallest of efforts to turn his head to look over his shoulder.

There's a frown. Diniz is too tired and his head too sensitive.]

Who the fuck are you?

[influential]

I believe I asked you a question first.

[ Ogmios has located his jacket, on the floor by the bed - he is mostly full clothed, which is a shame; the man seems to him fairly handsome, regardless of his sorry little state. In his pocket he fishes out his cigarettes and a lighter, looking for the first time faintly pleased with something. ]

[abditive]

[He's about to open his mouth for an easy retort with the claim that Ogmios is the invader of his room, then asking where his wife is (not that that information is particularly urgent) but it eventually becomes clear that he doesn't recognize the ceiling or any of the furniture as his own.

(He'd really just rather go back to sleep and ignore it all until he got saturated with his own lethargy.)

Ogmios' question still goes unanswered. Diniz tries to sit up and slide out of bed, heel of his hand pressed against his temple. There is a part of him that is still not fully awake, still trying to pull at enough energy and ignore the sickness to make him function properly.]

Where am I.

[influential]

I haven't the slightest clue, but at least we have some common ground there.

[ After a moment of thought, Ogmios deposits the lighter on a small table by the bed, and rummages around his jacket once again, this time feeling around the inside breast pocket, until he finds his prize; a book of matches. He takes a lot more pleasure in lighting his cigarettes by more traditional means. ]

[abditive]

[He doesn't pay mind to the display, moves to the nearest mirror with his back to the window. There is at least some comfort to be drawn from the curtains being closed...

He is wearing the same clothes he had on the previous night -- most likely. They're a mess. His jacket, tie and socks are missing. After another moment fighting off the aftereffects of his disorientation, Diniz turns his head to Ogmios and shows him his hand.]

I need your phone.

[influential]

Do you now?

[ Ogmios is just being difficult for the sake of it now, because he can and because he really isn't that interested in helping the man out. He takes a few experimental puffs on his cigarette - which has a deep, woody sort of scent, not wildly similar to your day to day smokes - before a faint smile of satisfaction spreads across his face, a light indulgence fresh in his eyes. ]