You think I don't know how to have fun?
Date: Backlogged to the morning after the Christmas party we never had
Location: Hojo's apartment
Status: Closed
Rating: G
Summary: Let me introduce you to Sergeant Angeleo, the SOLDIER Heidegger sent to the Science Department, played by someone I'm all too well acquainted with. X3 And Juri - this explains how that lovely coffee got into Hojo's possession.
We've taken the liberty of fabricating a few character actions in here - namely, Cissnei, Juri, and Heidegger. Nothing big at all though. Mods and other players, please tell me if I need to move this to the OOC comm. I'd really rather not. XD
Comments! We'd love to hear some, yeah. ^^
Angeleo:
Sergeant Angeleo woke in a cold sweat, feeling immediately ill when he recognised his surroundings. Professor Hojo’s apartment was positively Spartan; barely any luxury had been afforded and Angeleo had to sprawl his not insignificant frame over a tiny two-seater couch. He stumbled off the couch, groping for his glasses and SOLDIER beret when he heard stirring from, what he could only assume was, the bedroom.
It took a little while before it came flooding back. The Christmas function. Drinking competitions. Hojo and Heidegger going toe to toe. The highly chargeable offence of decking a superior officer. By the time Angeleo had remembered it all, he was opening the front door to make his egress. Just as he turned to check he hadn’t left anything, Hojo emerged from the bedroom with a dim expression.
Hojo:
Someone had, in the course of the night, replaced the scientist's brain with a cold bucket of water. As far as he was concerned, Hojo's first mistake was the act of getting up itself. No doubt the rest of the chain of unfortunate events leading to this atrocious headache would catch up with him soon enough, and he'd remember just how many other wrong turns he had taken.
In the meantime, he desperately needed a drink. ...Of water. The world seemed to have other things planned, however. His vision was strangely devoid of straight lines as Hojo attempted to grope his way to the kitchen without his glasses, barely catching sight of the fuzzy figure by the apartment door before he tripped over something nonexistent and stumbled against a nearby wall.
Angeleo:
Angeleo checked his watch, it was nearing sunrise on Monday. It took him a moment to figure out how Sunday disappeared; then it dawned on him that it was a work day. Clearly in better shape than the Professor, who was making awkward conversation about drinking with a wall, Angeleo closed the door and set off for a supermarket.
The corner store was a lot like his favourite pub: nothing fancy but everything you need. Bacon, eggs, decent coffee and bread so fresh it still hurt to touch. On the way back to Hojo’s apartment, it occurred to Angeleo that the old bastard might not have any of the equipment, but he was pleasantly surprised. As the sun began its morning assault, Angeleo was cooking up bacon and eggs, tucking into fresh bread and sinking his third coffee of the half-hour.
Angeleo was trying desperately, and in vain, to ward off the dull ringing associated with one too many drinks. He couldn’t remember exactly how much he’d had, but it had been a happy night. His price for it, though, was a full-body ache and a throat so sore it felt like he’d swallowed a cheese grater. The coffee was lava streaming down his tortured oesophagus, but it ebbed away at the dullness in his mind.
Hojo:
...?
It seemed he never did make it to that water. Rising slowly from the sofa (and just how exactly did he get -there-, anyway?), Hojo now found himself wrangling with the impossible yet distinctive smell of -breakfast- drifting from the kitchen.
That couldn't be right. This couldn't be his apartment if there was actually -food- being prepared in the kitchen. Supporting himself against the wall, still apprehensive about the sudden shyness of the floor beneath his feet, Hojo inched his way into the normally unused room. The rich aroma of bacon, eggs, and....coffee....were more inviting than usual due to his heightened sense of smell, bestowed by the loss of sight he was still suffering from.
Now...where the hell were his glasses?
"Where the hell are my glasses?" - The first question posed to the man standing by his stove, who, for the moment, he couldn't be bothered with recognising. His voice rasped like sandpaper; it felt like someone had glued his mouth shut, and as soon as he started speaking the headache returned ten-fold. "And... urgh... what happened?"
Angeleo:
Hojo’s voice was almost lost in the dull ringing. Angeleo wasn’t even sure he’d heard him right; what could possibly make the old fool think he knew where his lift passes were, and why did he care? The second question was easier to answer, “We fought a losing battle against alcohol. It was a valiant fight, but I was put down by one too many Cocaine Smiles.” Angeleo turned and tried to manage a grin, but came across looking like a stroke victim, “Breakfast’s served.”
Hojo:
Ah, he recognised that voice. So the blurry form belonged to Angeleo, and the answer Hojo received did not please him at all.
"Alcohol...? Oh sweet Leviathan..."
Christmas party. Entering into that idiotic drinking game with Heidegger despite his better judgement, because Cissnei and Juri happened to be nearby... He thought he knew his own limits, but obviously where pretty girls were concerned the scientist was as prone to male stupidity as the next man.
Sitting down at the dining table and receiving the plate laid out in front of him gratefully, even the fact he was still as blind as a bat could be temporarily ignored. But, there were more important things at hand Hojo needed to sort out first.
"I don't even remember what or how much I drank," he said slowly. "Somehow I think it's better if I don't recall. But, how did I end up back here? And...did you see... Misses Cissy and Shi'nu afterwards?"
Angeleo:
Hojo’s interest in women was a new one; that they were the most beautiful and largest racked of the company was unsurprising. Angeleo figured he wasn’t as chaste as he made out, but never figured him as a letch. The Turk had spent most of the evening away from Angeleo, although he never fully established why. Shi’nu, on the other hand, had spent a great deal of time in conversation with the professor. Right up until the point he told Heidegger to ‘stop drinking like a ‘Wutainese flower girl’ and throw down some real liquor.’
The events between then and throwing the professor’s near lifeless body in the back of a taxi would no doubt be well-documented by the time they arrived at work. Angeleo offered the most tactful, eloquent answer he could think of, “Nope… Didn’t see either of ‘em. Got back by taxi.” Then proceeded to stuff down more food.
Hojo:
Hojo began to eat languidly, still trying to selectively reconjure the events of the party. Memories came back hazily, though a few good images of low-cut dresses and bright shades of lipstick were retained. He had tried to keep close to Cissnei, which proved difficult because the girl was so popular, but did enjoy the company of the other famous beauty of Shinra - Juri - for a good long while.
Until Heidegger's little challenge...and well...things probably went downhill from there.
"Pity... Though if I had embarrassed myself with overconsumption of alcohol it's definitely better if they weren't around."
He reached for the coffee, took a small sip, and felt instantly better about everything.
"This...what is this?"
Angeleo:
“A key of Wutai’s finest. I drank a lot of it, while I was over there. Your local grocer is remarkably resourceful.” Angeleo shuddered to think what images the old bastard was conjuring up while he stared lazily at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by as Angeleo remembered getting a few pieces of paper throughout the evening. Reaching into his service jacket, he pulled out a few bits of napkin with hastily scribbled numbers on them. One of them had a ‘C,’ the other a ‘J’ and finally one with an ‘S’ marked down in his own blocky handwriting. He’d put letters to faces later.
Three shrill beeps brought him back to the real world, though. His watch was doing its damndest to remind him it was time to go. No time to pack or clean, he threw Hojo out the door, without listening to complaint and began the madcap sprint, in full service dress, to the ShinRa building
Location: Hojo's apartment
Status: Closed
Rating: G
Summary: Let me introduce you to Sergeant Angeleo, the SOLDIER Heidegger sent to the Science Department, played by someone I'm all too well acquainted with. X3 And Juri - this explains how that lovely coffee got into Hojo's possession.
We've taken the liberty of fabricating a few character actions in here - namely, Cissnei, Juri, and Heidegger. Nothing big at all though. Mods and other players, please tell me if I need to move this to the OOC comm. I'd really rather not. XD
Comments! We'd love to hear some, yeah. ^^
Angeleo:
Sergeant Angeleo woke in a cold sweat, feeling immediately ill when he recognised his surroundings. Professor Hojo’s apartment was positively Spartan; barely any luxury had been afforded and Angeleo had to sprawl his not insignificant frame over a tiny two-seater couch. He stumbled off the couch, groping for his glasses and SOLDIER beret when he heard stirring from, what he could only assume was, the bedroom.
It took a little while before it came flooding back. The Christmas function. Drinking competitions. Hojo and Heidegger going toe to toe. The highly chargeable offence of decking a superior officer. By the time Angeleo had remembered it all, he was opening the front door to make his egress. Just as he turned to check he hadn’t left anything, Hojo emerged from the bedroom with a dim expression.
Hojo:
Someone had, in the course of the night, replaced the scientist's brain with a cold bucket of water. As far as he was concerned, Hojo's first mistake was the act of getting up itself. No doubt the rest of the chain of unfortunate events leading to this atrocious headache would catch up with him soon enough, and he'd remember just how many other wrong turns he had taken.
In the meantime, he desperately needed a drink. ...Of water. The world seemed to have other things planned, however. His vision was strangely devoid of straight lines as Hojo attempted to grope his way to the kitchen without his glasses, barely catching sight of the fuzzy figure by the apartment door before he tripped over something nonexistent and stumbled against a nearby wall.
Angeleo:
Angeleo checked his watch, it was nearing sunrise on Monday. It took him a moment to figure out how Sunday disappeared; then it dawned on him that it was a work day. Clearly in better shape than the Professor, who was making awkward conversation about drinking with a wall, Angeleo closed the door and set off for a supermarket.
The corner store was a lot like his favourite pub: nothing fancy but everything you need. Bacon, eggs, decent coffee and bread so fresh it still hurt to touch. On the way back to Hojo’s apartment, it occurred to Angeleo that the old bastard might not have any of the equipment, but he was pleasantly surprised. As the sun began its morning assault, Angeleo was cooking up bacon and eggs, tucking into fresh bread and sinking his third coffee of the half-hour.
Angeleo was trying desperately, and in vain, to ward off the dull ringing associated with one too many drinks. He couldn’t remember exactly how much he’d had, but it had been a happy night. His price for it, though, was a full-body ache and a throat so sore it felt like he’d swallowed a cheese grater. The coffee was lava streaming down his tortured oesophagus, but it ebbed away at the dullness in his mind.
Hojo:
...?
It seemed he never did make it to that water. Rising slowly from the sofa (and just how exactly did he get -there-, anyway?), Hojo now found himself wrangling with the impossible yet distinctive smell of -breakfast- drifting from the kitchen.
That couldn't be right. This couldn't be his apartment if there was actually -food- being prepared in the kitchen. Supporting himself against the wall, still apprehensive about the sudden shyness of the floor beneath his feet, Hojo inched his way into the normally unused room. The rich aroma of bacon, eggs, and....coffee....were more inviting than usual due to his heightened sense of smell, bestowed by the loss of sight he was still suffering from.
Now...where the hell were his glasses?
"Where the hell are my glasses?" - The first question posed to the man standing by his stove, who, for the moment, he couldn't be bothered with recognising. His voice rasped like sandpaper; it felt like someone had glued his mouth shut, and as soon as he started speaking the headache returned ten-fold. "And... urgh... what happened?"
Angeleo:
Hojo’s voice was almost lost in the dull ringing. Angeleo wasn’t even sure he’d heard him right; what could possibly make the old fool think he knew where his lift passes were, and why did he care? The second question was easier to answer, “We fought a losing battle against alcohol. It was a valiant fight, but I was put down by one too many Cocaine Smiles.” Angeleo turned and tried to manage a grin, but came across looking like a stroke victim, “Breakfast’s served.”
Hojo:
Ah, he recognised that voice. So the blurry form belonged to Angeleo, and the answer Hojo received did not please him at all.
"Alcohol...? Oh sweet Leviathan..."
Christmas party. Entering into that idiotic drinking game with Heidegger despite his better judgement, because Cissnei and Juri happened to be nearby... He thought he knew his own limits, but obviously where pretty girls were concerned the scientist was as prone to male stupidity as the next man.
Sitting down at the dining table and receiving the plate laid out in front of him gratefully, even the fact he was still as blind as a bat could be temporarily ignored. But, there were more important things at hand Hojo needed to sort out first.
"I don't even remember what or how much I drank," he said slowly. "Somehow I think it's better if I don't recall. But, how did I end up back here? And...did you see... Misses Cissy and Shi'nu afterwards?"
Angeleo:
Hojo’s interest in women was a new one; that they were the most beautiful and largest racked of the company was unsurprising. Angeleo figured he wasn’t as chaste as he made out, but never figured him as a letch. The Turk had spent most of the evening away from Angeleo, although he never fully established why. Shi’nu, on the other hand, had spent a great deal of time in conversation with the professor. Right up until the point he told Heidegger to ‘stop drinking like a ‘Wutainese flower girl’ and throw down some real liquor.’
The events between then and throwing the professor’s near lifeless body in the back of a taxi would no doubt be well-documented by the time they arrived at work. Angeleo offered the most tactful, eloquent answer he could think of, “Nope… Didn’t see either of ‘em. Got back by taxi.” Then proceeded to stuff down more food.
Hojo:
Hojo began to eat languidly, still trying to selectively reconjure the events of the party. Memories came back hazily, though a few good images of low-cut dresses and bright shades of lipstick were retained. He had tried to keep close to Cissnei, which proved difficult because the girl was so popular, but did enjoy the company of the other famous beauty of Shinra - Juri - for a good long while.
Until Heidegger's little challenge...and well...things probably went downhill from there.
"Pity... Though if I had embarrassed myself with overconsumption of alcohol it's definitely better if they weren't around."
He reached for the coffee, took a small sip, and felt instantly better about everything.
"This...what is this?"
Angeleo:
“A key of Wutai’s finest. I drank a lot of it, while I was over there. Your local grocer is remarkably resourceful.” Angeleo shuddered to think what images the old bastard was conjuring up while he stared lazily at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by as Angeleo remembered getting a few pieces of paper throughout the evening. Reaching into his service jacket, he pulled out a few bits of napkin with hastily scribbled numbers on them. One of them had a ‘C,’ the other a ‘J’ and finally one with an ‘S’ marked down in his own blocky handwriting. He’d put letters to faces later.
Three shrill beeps brought him back to the real world, though. His watch was doing its damndest to remind him it was time to go. No time to pack or clean, he threw Hojo out the door, without listening to complaint and began the madcap sprint, in full service dress, to the ShinRa building