bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

THE AFTER-PARTY MEME.the party has been busted by the police, the obligatory drunk texts are sent, the deeds are done, and the smoke is clearing. looks like it's time to go to the after-party. yes, whether it's a solitary 400th glass of corner-shop piss, a small gathering at the local ihop, or an even larger party at gatsby's place, how do you plan to spend the rest of the night? not sleeping, that's for sure.

>> POST your character.
>> TAG others.

>> LIVE action, tfln, you decide.

>> HAVE FUN.

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I had heard rumors that Elves could imbibe without suffering any of the evil effects of too much alcohol, but I never believed it until now.

I still can't feel my face.

[ Except she knows her jaw is tired because she's wondering if she can just stop chewing mid-bite and roll over and go to sleep in this booth. (Which she can't, because this booth is in the middle of some tiny diner in rural Texas, and they are so not far enough from their target for that.) ]

Which would be fine, except I know that means I'm gonna feel way too much of my face in about five hours. [ She reaches across the table to take one of his fries. ]

[ Don't mind Trip just leaning his back against the wall with a pair of shades over his eyes. Why is everything so freaking bright in here? WHO TURNED ON THE SUN? WHY? Really, they should just be thankful May did'nt have them doing something much much worse then what they were currently doing. He's just going to be throwing the fries into his mouth and hopefully not missing.]

I told you Jägermeister was a bad idea. And I told you you'd regret it. Nothing like Jäger regret.

[ He said as he wiggled one of his fries over at Skye.]

Well I know who not to crawl to for sympathy and bottled water come morning strength drills.

[ She interrupts herself wit ha hiccup, and follows it with a hard blink that lasts long enough to qualify as a cringe. Trying to dismiss it, she shakes her head—immediate regret. The transition from drunk to burgeoning hangover is not a fun one. ]

You've just been waiting for the "I told you so."

Is it May?

[ Because he can already see May's "slight disapproval but slightly amused and trying not to show it because she's a damn good SO." It's rare sight in terms of May's facial expressions. Like finding a unicorn that can also tap dance. Trip was just going to lower his glasses down to peer over at Skye with an amused smirk.]

I might have been. I enjoy the simple pleasures in life. Order another burger. Or three.

[ Because seriously. WHY IS IT SO BRIGHT?]

Edited 2015-01-01 22:24 (UTC)

[ She crunches down on the fry and grabs the white paper cuff that had secured her silverware closed. Balling it up, she pegs him with it. ]

I meant you. Laughing at me is well outside the realm of sympathy. [ A quick point to her eyes with two finger is followed by gesturing with both fingers back at his eyes, and she then moves to sit back in the booth, groaning. ] I need coffee.

"...Okay, I've made a lot of dumb decisions at parties, but I gotta say, wakin' up on a spaceship is a consequence and an experience that's entirely new t'me."

Zinda's not-so-subtly also checking her ass for tattoos.

"Hey, it could be worse," and for Peter's part, he's looking pretty ragged. It's not the worst hangover he's had, but neither is it a skip and a hop through the daisies.

He holds out a mug of coffee to her. "And if you're lookin' for permanent souvenirs to mark the occasion? You lucked on that one, too. Pretty sure we just ended up gettin' hitched."

He's-- probably joking.

She takes the coffee. Because hey, space coffee. That's new!

"Well, if we did, you really skimped out on the ring," she says, looking at her right hand, which has... approximately zero diamonds on it. Not that she's really big on that sort of thing. She grew up in the Dust Bowl during the Depression and lived on wartime rations after that. Military rations. The coffee actually probably just won her over more than a diamond could have.

"If you're not kidding, I'm gonna have to talk to my Skipper about spousal benefits. And you're probably gonna wanna see my birth certificate. I was born in 1921. There's prob'ly gonna be a lot of complications on account of the time travel an' the corperation I own an 8th of but kinda stole a plane from." She rubs her face.

"If you are kidding, once this hangover fades, I wanna fly the spaceship. Actually, either way, I wanna fly the spaceship."

Okay, that's a lot of information to take in on a hangover. Those were a lot of words. Like, even on a good day, he could handle maybe a half of whatever it was she just said? So for now, Peter just says--

"Wow."

After a second he adds, "You totally don't get to fly the spaceship, wife or no. Not unless we're actually in space and far, far away from any planets or meteors or, I dunno, space dust, where you're not likely to crash into anything."

It takes a few moments for the information to digest at last (mostly because jeez, headaches are the worst), and he says, "If I admit to not bein' serious about the marriage thing, would you admit to not bein' serious about the time travel thing? 'Cause that's where I'm getting hung up."

She just smirked over her coffee. A smirk that if he'd met either Hal Jordan or Carol Danvers, he might recognize as... well, possibly slightly dangerous to challenge.

A Blackhawk with a hangover is still a Blackhawk.

"I am probably the best damn pilot you've probably ever had on board your ship; if she's got a flight deck, give me three days and I can probably fly her better than you." Griiiiiin.

As for the time travel, and, perhaps, to back up her cocky claims- "you got access to Earth history records? Look me up. Zinda Blake. Callsign, Lady Blackhawk." She beamed, and sipped her coffee. "Haw-kaw, cutie."

Okay, she liked this one. He was fun. And, as she'd noted, cute.

He couldn't help it -- at the "haw-kaw"? He sort of laughed.

"I'll have to take your word for it," but even as he said it, he still cast her a slightly dubious look. "The ship's computers aren't too great at hooking up to Earth databases. Folks who designed it didn't see much of a need."

He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm (and shit, he hoped his headache would fade on its own), glad that, for once, his teammates had gone ashore without him. Probably being productive members of society, he assumed, or else just didn't want to be around while he recovered from his hangover. He envied them their metabolisms.

"If you promise not to spill your coffee on anything that looks important? I don't mind givin' you a look around the flight deck. But, you know. Don't spill. Or puke. Especially don't puke."

[ open to live action or tfln! ]

Basic info.

Quite possibly the 'designated driver' type, but he does also get party hardy on occasion.

( ota + basic info )

Post-party shawarma? Did "someone" give out his number at a party? I'm easy.

[Well, Peace Diner was still open at this ridiculous time, it seemed. Tatsuya would have preferred somewhere else, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?

Right now, he's just kind of poking at his food in silence... He'd actually not had anything to drink, what with him planning on driving afterwards and all. (Even if his responsibility levels left things to be desired by going to the party in the first place, but like hell was he going to get in a wreck) Some part of him would like to break the silence, but...

... He'll just take a bite of his Peace Burger if it means he doesn't have to say anything.]

[It's been ages since Maya's imbibed. Even longer since she's had a burger and fries (why spend extra on that, when there's plenty of canned crab?). But here she is, happily munching on a fry as stragglers from the party she and Tatsuya just came from bicker all around them. She doesn't register much of what they're saying, doesn't register much of anything beyond the warmth in her limbs and the happiness that manifests as a bright smile she can't seem to drop.

Fact: Maya is a shameless flirt when she's sober.

Fact: drunk!Maya is an even bigger flirt. And, as Tatsuya had the ~~mis~~fortune of discovering after the party ended, a cuddly, giggly drunk.]

I'm glad you came tonight, Tatsuya-kun. [Though she'd insisted she was more than happy to be the driver tonight. Still a mystery why he declined...]

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tj hammond ≈ political animals

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