Room 410, Wednesday Night
Eve's nightly check of her voicemail had her flailing incoherently for a good twenty minutes and grateful Gwynn was out of the room at that particular moment so as not to see said flailing.
Once that was done, she called Sean.
Six times. Six damn times.
She was about to launch herself off the bed and out the door when he picked up.
"YOUR SISTER IS INSANE!" she screeched.
"She got it from you, after all," he said, which made Eve want to smack him.
"No, asswipe, she didn't. Not this insane. Because I have certainly never gotten married on a cruise ship, drunkenly or otherwise!"
"SHE WHAT?"
Eve winced; her ear was going to hate her later. "... you haven't checked your voicemail lately, have you?"
"Um. No. I should, though, shouldn't I?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, you should." Because if she had to suffer with the flailing, then so did he, by God!
"I'll call you back in a couple minutes, then."
Eve passed the time by wondering whether to throttle the newlyweds when they got back or not due to the being drunk. And then she wondered about throttling the people who'd let two drunk teenagers get married.
Two minutes later, the phone rang again. "Okay, now I want to be the drunk one."
"Me, too, my friend. Me, too." Eve sighed and fell back on the bed.
"Do we even want to know what the hell brought this on?"
"I'm leaning towards not right now," Eve reasoned. "Because it might make us want to throttle someone and we can't do it while they're off at sea."
"Good point. Very good point." A pause. "So... you, me, my hotel room, getting plastered in private?"
"Meet you there."
And with that, Eve was out the door.
Once that was done, she called Sean.
Six times. Six damn times.
She was about to launch herself off the bed and out the door when he picked up.
"YOUR SISTER IS INSANE!" she screeched.
"She got it from you, after all," he said, which made Eve want to smack him.
"No, asswipe, she didn't. Not this insane. Because I have certainly never gotten married on a cruise ship, drunkenly or otherwise!"
"SHE WHAT?"
Eve winced; her ear was going to hate her later. "... you haven't checked your voicemail lately, have you?"
"Um. No. I should, though, shouldn't I?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, you should." Because if she had to suffer with the flailing, then so did he, by God!
"I'll call you back in a couple minutes, then."
Eve passed the time by wondering whether to throttle the newlyweds when they got back or not due to the being drunk. And then she wondered about throttling the people who'd let two drunk teenagers get married.
Two minutes later, the phone rang again. "Okay, now I want to be the drunk one."
"Me, too, my friend. Me, too." Eve sighed and fell back on the bed.
"Do we even want to know what the hell brought this on?"
"I'm leaning towards not right now," Eve reasoned. "Because it might make us want to throttle someone and we can't do it while they're off at sea."
"Good point. Very good point." A pause. "So... you, me, my hotel room, getting plastered in private?"
"Meet you there."
And with that, Eve was out the door.