goshdarnspam | sandy can't you see, I'm in misery

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sandy can't you see, I'm in misery

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Morning After

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[ Oh hey, convenient subject change time, though he grunts at the dig of fingers into his ribs. ]

Who'd you bet on, anyway?

[ Though he'll probably be happier not knowing. Honestly. ]

Edited 2012-10-30 15:11 (UTC)

Zee. Mm, well. Abby for the long game. But she's got issues or something, I don't know. I think she and Terry are the leaders of team virgin. So not the first.

[She gives a quiet hum, that last bit apparently a bit of a condolence.]

So I might still win that way. Since this kinda doesn't feel like it'll be evolving into a romantic gesture...No telling I told you. It's cheating.

[ As she keeps talking, his brows just keep climbing higher, and when she's done, he shakes his head, almost violently enough to dislodge her. ]

Hate to break it to you I don't think I'll be hooking up with Zee or Abby anytime soon, so you're still shit outta luck as far as the odds go.

[Shrug. Right against his spine. Yup.]

I've got time. Way better than the other bets-

Except me, I guess.

[ He snorts. ]

Guess that makes you the dark horse, or something.

Racist.

[But it comes with the return of the smile pressed against his back.]

I think we should call in. Emotional trauma or something. Let me keep my money one more day.

Like that's not gonna be suspicious.

[ He doesn't seem to be keen on moving either, though, and finally: ]

Fine. But you're getting your own breakfast.

[ Meaning, most likely, that he's going to end up making some for himself and she's going to end up boosting most of it. ]

Okay. I want to make myself bacon and waffles. And coffee. I hope myself has the stuff for that. With looots of sugar.

[And just curling fully back up around him happily. Kind of like exactly how they were before this whole 'waking up' nightmare began.]

[ He laughs, and the sound rumbles through him enough to be felt. ]

I'm sure you'll manage something.

[ Bringing a hand up to pat at one of the arms draping over him in a patronizing kind of way, he ends up just kind of letting it... stay there. ]

Yeah. I'm sure 'I' will.

[More air quotes, since sarcasm isn't the same with her face pressed again him instead of dead-panning directly at him.]

You really don't remember anything.

Do you? [ He shoots the question back at her, even if it wasn't really one. Hey, it isn't impossible. Maybe he's the only one with selective amnesia. ]

Dude, I'm twenty two. Not remembering how I got places is, like, my thing. Odds were on you, here.

[ Thank you, April, for reminding him exactly how much older he is than you. ]

Right. I'm pretty sure people don't completely forget what happened one night ago, unless -- [ He breaks off. Import powers? Not the weirdest thing that's happened. Incredulously: ] Did someone roofie us?

[Dramatic pause.]

The evil plan is all becoming clear now. The drugged us and tucked is in for their sick cult cuddling fetish.

And to rig the pool.

[Nope, can't do it. She breaks into a laugh at that]

It was a set-up. Someone is definitely filming this. [ The dire tone in his voice is hard to maintain with April laughing like that, though, and he untenses enough to snort softly. The whole situation is ridiculous. ]

'Least I'm stuck with someone I know, instead of someone I've never met.

Yeah. Or who would be there to make veiled references to this at work for the rest of your life.

[Well, in all this talking and laughing April has apparently given up on this nap thing. Though don't worry, it's to be continued later in the day. Possibly still on him. Instead she sets about finishing what she started on the lake that day and getting a closer look at the nearest tattoo.

And, you know. Possibly looking for any evidence that's they'd done. Things. She's a marker, okay.]

[ The nearest tattoo, since he's more or less with his back to her, happens to be the words SEMPER FI spelled out clear and large, along with a slightly questionable rendition of the traditional Marine insignia. The muscles in Bradbury's back ripple as he shifts his weight.

As for marks, well, there are a couple of scratches and questionable-looking bruises in place, but nothing really conclusive. Besides, the best evidence would be whether or not April's feeling particularly achey, because if she's a marker, Bradbury's a handler, and manhandling April wouldn't be particularly difficult. ]

[She frowns for a long moment at the lack of results from her half-assed investigation, tracing along one questionable looking scratch with a chipped-fingernail.]

Whatever.

[What the hell. She hates this half-way crap. She leans down to- lightly, thank you- bite one of the accompanying bruises.]

[ He doesn't startle at the press of her finger, but he does jerk in surprise when she bites down, a hiss escaping him that doesn't necessarily sound like he thought that was a bad thing. He's just caught off guard, and he twists around a little, looking at her with an expression that's caught between affronted, scandalized, and a little intrigued all at once. ]

What was that for?

[April just raises her eyebrows up at him, apparently not understanding what wasn’t obvious about that move.]

Memory jog. Do the same stuff, it all comes back right. Though- mm. I’m more of a neck person.

[Why yes, all of April’s medical knowledge comes from TV, why do you ask. But now that she’s considered the second point, she’s totally crawling up closer to get access to his neck region.]

I'm pretty sure that's not how it-- [ He breaks off as she starts moving. Pretty sure he should be shoving her off right now, but 1. he doesn't want to deal with a pissy Raccoon Queen, 2. he could end up actually hurting her, 3. she's probably just fucking with him, right??? 3 is actually probably the biggest reason he just sort of holds still and lets her do what she wants, like he keeps expecting her to chicken out of it.

His hands don't really know what to do with themselves, so they just kind of flail around awkwardly before he rolls flat onto his back and props himself up a little on his elbows, still staring at her incredulously. ]

You know this is a bad idea, right?

No.

[It’s hard, as it often is, to tell if that’s an honest or ironic statement, but April’s happy to leave it at that. Part of which may be because she’s occupied with other things, like following his role to end up straddling his hips, one hand grabbing onto his shoulder for balance as she leans in. She stops with her face about half a foot away from his, because, come on. She’s a lot of things. But not someone who needs to go molesting people who aren’t interested. Sometimes- as terrible as it may be- things needed to be talked about first.]

Why?

[ Part of the problem may be that Bradbury doesn't actually know what he wants, and the conflict probably shows on his face as he stares back her. He doesn't try to shrink back, increase the distance she's closed so quickly (and wow, she moves fast). Her weight on him really isn't an issue either, although the position's more than suggestive. ]

Uh. [ Wow, that's eloquent. He tries again, like he's working through a mental checklist. ] Because you're a lot younger than me, because your boss would never let us live it down, because I honestly didn't think I was in any way your type until just now?

First, my type is whatever I want. And second I don't care about what other people think, sooooo...

Okay. Thanks. For clearing that up.

[The whole 'age' thing had always fallen under the category of caring what other people thought, so as far as she was concerned that covered all points raised. Apparently drunk/high/roofied them had been pro this. What was the point of arguing with something that'd (theoretically) already happened.

None of which she actually shared as she darted in to try and finish closing those last few inches of distance.]

[ The moment he realizes his objections apparently don't hold much weight with her (not that he expected them to, because she seems to have made up her mind pretty decisively) is the moment Bradbury gives up.

He doesn't dodge away when she darts in, though he isn't exactly opening up for it either. One hand even comes up to awkwardly kind of rest on her waist, not really doing much of anything? Up close he smells like cigarette smoke, though it's mostly on his clothes; surprisingly enough, his morning breath isn't that terrible. ]

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aggressiveapathy - 2012-11-02 04:18 (UTC) - Expand

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waiting - 2012-11-02 04:40 (UTC) - Expand

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