Third Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning
So there was booze in the taps.
It wasn't exactly Dante's choice of booze - warn wine with spices and shit? Whatever - and he was beginning to get the impression the alcohol content wasn't as high as he liked it to be. Of course, that was easily solved with a swig from a bottle of rum every now and again.
By mid-morning, he'd managed to fill a large pitcher with the stuff. He draped himself over the sofa with a big mug in hand, the rum on the floor (he hadn't wanted to add it to the pitcher itself because, enh) and turned the television to the least Christmassy thing he could find. (It was a weird horror flick about elevators.)
His birthday was in five days. He was hoping to ignore that.
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It wasn't exactly Dante's choice of booze - warn wine with spices and shit? Whatever - and he was beginning to get the impression the alcohol content wasn't as high as he liked it to be. Of course, that was easily solved with a swig from a bottle of rum every now and again.
By mid-morning, he'd managed to fill a large pitcher with the stuff. He draped himself over the sofa with a big mug in hand, the rum on the floor (he hadn't wanted to add it to the pitcher itself because, enh) and turned the television to the least Christmassy thing he could find. (It was a weird horror flick about elevators.)
His birthday was in five days. He was hoping to ignore that.
[[ open! ]]