The One Where Faith Has Breakfast With George
Who: Faith
When: Day 39, Morning
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: George, Anyone
Status: Incomplete
Faith didn't need as much as sleep as other people. It made for long, restless nights filled only with patrolling, masturbating or sex depending on the timing and location. Here, recently, she got her fill of sex.
She left Chloe in a sated, exhausted slumber and re-emerged on the beach several hours later. The slight shift of the sun in the sky told her it was at least nine o' clock, and a good portion of the camp denizens were awake and stirring. There was the familiar smell of coffee in the air, and the usual breakfast smells of roasting roots and tubers mingled with fish and pig.
(Mmmmmmm, piiiiiig.) Faith chuckled at her quiet channeling of Homer Simpson.
Last night, she dragged Daniel away from the party - no, wait, he dragged her away before they had a chance to sample the fine roasted beast. She was glad that there was some leftover.
Thinking of Daniel made Faith take a quick glance around. The familiar sandy brown head was no where in sight. Not drinking down repeated cups of coffee at the cookfire, not pouring of some journal in a foreign language, not mingling and talking to their fellow castaways. (He's probably still crashed out like Chloe. Last night was pretty damn intense. People are probably gonna think I broke him.)
The latter thought made Faith laugh smokily.
She made her way to the cookfire and poured a cup of coffee for herself. "'Morning." Faith threw out a general greeting to everyone present. She took a plateful of fruit and some meat - she was ravenous now that she smelled and saw the food - and prepared to sit down.
Then she saw her target: George, appearing from the direction of the swimming hole, hair wet.
"Gotta mission," Faith said to all and sundry as she gathered up more food. Enough for two, or maybe three. With a refill of the coffee mug, she jogged toward George, plate in hand, somehow managing to keep all the food in place and coffee in the cup.
"Hey Georgie," Faith greeted, intercepting her path. She waved the coffee mug at the reaper. "Come have breakfast with me."
When: Day 39, Morning
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: George, Anyone
Status: Incomplete
Faith didn't need as much as sleep as other people. It made for long, restless nights filled only with patrolling, masturbating or sex depending on the timing and location. Here, recently, she got her fill of sex.
She left Chloe in a sated, exhausted slumber and re-emerged on the beach several hours later. The slight shift of the sun in the sky told her it was at least nine o' clock, and a good portion of the camp denizens were awake and stirring. There was the familiar smell of coffee in the air, and the usual breakfast smells of roasting roots and tubers mingled with fish and pig.
(Mmmmmmm, piiiiiig.) Faith chuckled at her quiet channeling of Homer Simpson.
Last night, she dragged Daniel away from the party - no, wait, he dragged her away before they had a chance to sample the fine roasted beast. She was glad that there was some leftover.
Thinking of Daniel made Faith take a quick glance around. The familiar sandy brown head was no where in sight. Not drinking down repeated cups of coffee at the cookfire, not pouring of some journal in a foreign language, not mingling and talking to their fellow castaways. (He's probably still crashed out like Chloe. Last night was pretty damn intense. People are probably gonna think I broke him.)
The latter thought made Faith laugh smokily.
She made her way to the cookfire and poured a cup of coffee for herself. "'Morning." Faith threw out a general greeting to everyone present. She took a plateful of fruit and some meat - she was ravenous now that she smelled and saw the food - and prepared to sit down.
Then she saw her target: George, appearing from the direction of the swimming hole, hair wet.
"Gotta mission," Faith said to all and sundry as she gathered up more food. Enough for two, or maybe three. With a refill of the coffee mug, she jogged toward George, plate in hand, somehow managing to keep all the food in place and coffee in the cup.
"Hey Georgie," Faith greeted, intercepting her path. She waved the coffee mug at the reaper. "Come have breakfast with me."