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

[longbowhunter]

❝the Morning After meme❞
	•Start a thread for each of your characters. It works better if you avoid a catch-all. •Other people comment as though their characters have suddenly woken up next to yours. Anons can comment suggesting who should wake up together. •If it's too creepy or cracked out, you obviously don't have to do it. •Spam accounts are totally welcome as well! •The first person who says they're late has to wakeup with Zoidberg.

Comments

[waiting]

[ Pull it together, Bradbury. It's an effort, and a hell of one, but he just barely manages it, trying to shove the anxiety to the back of his head and focus on the more important part, namely, figuring out what to do next. After a second, he clears his throat, moving to slide his legs off the edge of the bed, even if it means keeping his back uncomfortably bared to Mitch. ]

So. [ He starts, then stops, hand lifting up to rub at his neck. ] What's the last thing you remember?

[viced]

Uh. [ He responds intelligently, pausing to consider, even though he's still looking around the room like it's got the most important thing somewhere hidden in a corner. At least he should be happy that they aren't looking at each other. ]

Honestly? I think I was still at work, but don't quote me on that one.

[waiting]

[ He doesn't look over his shoulder, so his expression isn't all that visible, but he does sound wry, a little closer to normal. ]

Well, that's not encouraging, because things are kinda fuzzy for me too.

[ At least if they ha a window, they'd be able to gauge the time. He looks down at the bed, and around at the room, trying to pick up more clues about the place they're at. It's not like they've been strapped to a military cot and handcuffed there, it actually isn't too bad a bed, just too small for two grown men. There's a dresser with a mirror at the far end of the room, and he slides off the bed to walk towards it.

He could make a crack about Mitch not watching his ass, but he's honestly too unsettled to even make the effort until he figures out what's happened. There's a note taped to the mirror, and he tugs it off, reading the words out loud. ]

"Have fun, lovebirds"? [ His brow wrinkles, perplexed. The note's even punctuated by a winking smiley. Who writes out smilies, seriously? And then horrible realization dawns. ]

Shit. [ Today is Valentine's Day. What is with this city and shit happening on holidays? He reaches for the door handle, aiming to work it open, but predictably, it's locked. ]

[viced]

[ While Rick may not be able to gauge time, he's perfectly capable of it, and he's listening maybe not to the clock in the room, but there's a timekeeping piece somewhere in the building, and it's early evening, and he grimaces once he finally makes it back to the real world, and catches onto what the fuck's happening. ]

Oh you're fucking shitting me, who's idea of a joke was that?

[ And he watches as the door rejects them, and he frowns. ]

LOCK, YOU'D BETTER REVERSE FUNCTION RIGHT NOW, OR I'M RIPPING YOU OUT.

[ But what happens when the door opens and it's blocked off?? ]

[waiting]

[ The door clicks as the tumblers fall into place, and he'd shoot a grateful look back at Mitch if it wouldn't mean possibly having to try to wipe his mind clean of the sight.

Unfortunately, when the door opens, all that's facing them is a bricked-off wall, with a piece of paper taped on it and the letters large enough for Mitch to read even as far as he is:

"GOOD TRY, BUT NO CIGAR. AT LEAST NOT UNTIL YOU MAKE OUT. ;)"

Bradbury just kind of stares at that for a moment before bringing a hand up to drag over his face, s l o w l y.

There are just no words to described how fucked up this is. ]

[viced]

[ It was large enough, and he stared, open-mouthed at the shit on the brick wall. Open. Mouthed.

He let off a low, frustrated groan, his hands gestating wildly before thumping into the pillow. ]

Oh Jesus fucking Christ! Who the fuck would do this!?

[waiting]

Someone who likes playing matchmaker and has the firepower to do it? [ Bradbury mutters the words on automatic, then shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

He just isn't awake enough to deal with this, so he trundles back to the bed, pillow held to preserve a semblance of modesty (not that Mitch is looking) and flops down on "his" side, keeping his back firmly turned to Mitch. ]

Let me know if you figure something out. [ It's not worth getting worked up about this. ]