( 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

[romanticism]

[ The extent of Oxford's disinterest and boredom with regards to this function is clearly displayed in the fact that he withdrew himself from the company of others hours ago, calmly and quietly citing continued nausea and headaches from the travel earlier today as his reason for doing so. This was, in part, true; his head was still pounding, occasionally, still smarting from the inevitable torture of air travel. It was all very exaggerated, however, as his painkillers had worked something of a dream and alieviated the worst of the problems early on in the day. All the same, he feared he'd do himself another headache related mishap if he was to stay amongst the distinctly lacking company any longer.

He is, however, expecting to share this bed tonight, albeit with someone else (no points for guessing who), so he stirs with very little surprise at being woken by the movement of another person next to him, though he's somewhat taken aback by the graceless collapse. He was awaiting something entirely more... intimate. Having taken the liberty of stealing a few hours to catch up on sleep, Oxford supposes that he would personally be a little more lively than someone who'd spent the day doing - more or less - what they were actually supposed to be doing.

Raising his brows to himself, he rolls over, gently, a bare arm snaking out to wrap around the figure now sharing the bed- ]

Please, do curb your enthusiasm, my dear boy...

[ -though Durham may be able to tell from the way that Oxford very quickly tenses, that from the shape and feel of this second body, Oxford has potentially determined (or at least suspects), that it is not Cambridge with him. ]

[neutralises]

[Despite his bone-weary tiredness and the innate desire to not move until morning come hell or high water, Durham is hard-wired to both recognise and repel Oxford even in this state. There's little -short of unconsciousness itself- that could prevent him from grimacing at the other operative's voice, his own body tensing the moment an arm winds around him. He's not expecting company and he certainly isn't expecting Oxford's.]

What on Earth! [The speed at which he rips himself from that arm and out of the bed still leaves much to be desired where all things relating to grace are concerned. When he arrived it was tiredness that robbed him of it and this time, in his stomach-clenching mixture of abject horror and indignant fury, he's fallen out of the bed and on to the floor.]