Not cursed, hung over: Network Voice Post 0011 - Poly
OI... Ah dun even thin I kin smell hair of the dog taday. *mumbling in Gaelic* Whoever ah beat at pool, ah... I can give ye somea yer money back. But I think I spent most of it on rounds. Thankfully ah dun think anyone's here, not like me to have people follow me home
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[This is a Lucy shuffling out of the bathroom with bedhead, a jaw cracking yawn and wearing only a one of Keats' shirts.]
I could go for pancakes.
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[Keats spins around and the motion makes his head throb. He places his hand to his temple]
Dun scare me like that, lass!
[there is a long pause]
Please tell me ye wonna be offended when I say I seem ta 'ave fergotten yer name?
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[Laid back one night stands they name is Lucy.]
We should probably properly introduce ourselves. I'm Lucy and your accent is magically delicious
[It's possible she spent the night telling him that]
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Me *clears throat* My name is Keats. [He offers his hand to her.] I usually dun arse about face like this, pleasure ta meet you, Lucy.
[He smiles at the compliment and really wishes he remembers more about the evening] A friend offered breakfast, you want to come along?
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It's okay. I'm a professional at and you're doing great. It's a pleasure to meet you, Keats.
[She doesn't remember much about it either. Irish Car Bombs are apparently...the bomb]
Yes! Thank you. Let me find my underwear and shoes.
[And she's off, back to the bathroom. There's the sound of running water, her using mouth wash, grumbling at her hair and talking to herself while she locates her heels--one behind the toilet and the other in the shower? She emerges moments later still in Keats shirt--sorry she's keeping it--worn as a mini dress, high heels and thankfully underwear]
Mission accomplished. [And she holds her hand out to Keats.]
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Oi, now I remember, ye wanted to have a carbomb. [He laughs again and takes her hand, he has a ton of shirts and he's not going to argue with an attractive blond in his shirt. He takes her offered hand]
So what is it that ye do?
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[Sorry Keats. She's not the brightest but she is lots of fun]
I'm a barista at the coffee shop. What about you?
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I work for an orginization that investigates tha City. No like we're findin a way out lately. Been here nearly a year now [ he thinks] aye, about a year.
Ye new, Lucy?
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[And she thought she was getting homesick before]
Sort of. I've been here about a month I guess.
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Also, we've found out that the City has quite a sense of humor. None a us seem ta share it. Let's have breakfast, a friend a mine sent an invite.
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[She beams a smile at him. Lucy is easy to make happy]
Breakfast sounds awesomesauce.
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You'll probably really like Solomon.
[He opens the door for her and leads her off] I assume I'm no gettin' that shirt back, am I?
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I like most people. I'm like a puppy. Or something.
[She is easily lead of course] Nope! It looks good on me.
[And she shimmies for effect]
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[and he's not blind to the shimmy] An' I'm not disagree'n with ye at all on the shirt. [He opens the door for her and the two start into the street]
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Also? It delights her that Keats has manners. She tucks his hand into the crook of his elbow as they start down the street]
You have to wonder where it comes up with these things and why it brings the people that it does bring here. My philosophy professor would geek out about it.
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Though they have similarities. There's an America and an Ireland in quite a few people's homelands, but there are differences between them all. Personally, ah was under the impression we were in some sort of underworld, but I'm no so sure now.
[He smiles and shrugs apologetically] Sorry, ah tend to ramble. An ye kin keep the shirt. Looks better on you.
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