[PAST SCENE] BFF vs. Potential GF | Set July 2007
Pat stood on Tara's front step, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. He had his car keys clutched possessively in his hand, and just for added protection, had his arms firmly crossed. "I really, really, really think we should leave my car here!" he insisted, nodding his head. "It likes being here. Tara, darling, your car is... redder."
Tara appeared through the door, digging around in her handbag for her front door keys. "My car is smaller," she said distractedly.
"My car is higher," Pat threw back indignantly. "Harder to climb into."
"Mine is almost out of gas. We'd never have enough to get home!" Tara snapped back, exasperated.
Pat pulled out his cell phone triumphantly. "Then we'll call a cab!"
Tara snatched the phone of him and pointed at him with it. "You will fucking not! We're taking your car! Don't be such a wuss!"
"My car has leather interior!" Pat wailed, slumping dejectedly over the stair railing with a dramatic sob.
Tara halted and glared at him. "Isn't the health - or lack thereof - of your best friend far more important than your car seats, Preston?" she growled, giving him a nudge. "You can be the one to remind him to aim for the bucket when he starts throwing up again!"
"It's not the throwing up end I'm worried about!" Pat protested with a squeak, waving his hand.
Tara gave Pat a firm and painful pinch to his bicep, causing him to shriek and release his hold on his car keys, which she snatched for, catching them smoothly in her hand. "I gave him something for that!" she argued. "It should be enough to see him to the hospital! Now get your arse into gear, Preston! He's dehydrated and got stop throwing up. It's too early for the clinic, so the ER is the next best thing! Move it!" she snapped, pointing to the door. "He's going to need help getting to the car. If you don't stop driving me up the wall, I'll poison you, too!"
"Better that than my leather se-" Pat snapped his mouth shut when her glare built to greater and more scarier heights. "You aren't very nice when you're cranky, darling. I don't think he needs the ER. It'll pass soon!"
Tara nudged him inside. "I'm going to unlock your car. He's been too sick for too many hours. You thought it would pass hours ago, and he promptly vomited all over your leg. He needs IV fluids at the very least. You're going to humour me and if you don't, I'll pee on your sofa!" she warned.
Pat gasped, mouth dropping open. "You're evil!"
"You ain't seen nothing yet, buddy! Get your butt inside and help him to the car. I'm driving. I don't trust you to keep your eyes on the road while trying to analyse Lachlan's next stomach rebellion!" Tara gave him one last glare and bounded down the stairs.
Tara appeared through the door, digging around in her handbag for her front door keys. "My car is smaller," she said distractedly.
"My car is higher," Pat threw back indignantly. "Harder to climb into."
"Mine is almost out of gas. We'd never have enough to get home!" Tara snapped back, exasperated.
Pat pulled out his cell phone triumphantly. "Then we'll call a cab!"
Tara snatched the phone of him and pointed at him with it. "You will fucking not! We're taking your car! Don't be such a wuss!"
"My car has leather interior!" Pat wailed, slumping dejectedly over the stair railing with a dramatic sob.
Tara halted and glared at him. "Isn't the health - or lack thereof - of your best friend far more important than your car seats, Preston?" she growled, giving him a nudge. "You can be the one to remind him to aim for the bucket when he starts throwing up again!"
"It's not the throwing up end I'm worried about!" Pat protested with a squeak, waving his hand.
Tara gave Pat a firm and painful pinch to his bicep, causing him to shriek and release his hold on his car keys, which she snatched for, catching them smoothly in her hand. "I gave him something for that!" she argued. "It should be enough to see him to the hospital! Now get your arse into gear, Preston! He's dehydrated and got stop throwing up. It's too early for the clinic, so the ER is the next best thing! Move it!" she snapped, pointing to the door. "He's going to need help getting to the car. If you don't stop driving me up the wall, I'll poison you, too!"
"Better that than my leather se-" Pat snapped his mouth shut when her glare built to greater and more scarier heights. "You aren't very nice when you're cranky, darling. I don't think he needs the ER. It'll pass soon!"
Tara nudged him inside. "I'm going to unlock your car. He's been too sick for too many hours. You thought it would pass hours ago, and he promptly vomited all over your leg. He needs IV fluids at the very least. You're going to humour me and if you don't, I'll pee on your sofa!" she warned.
Pat gasped, mouth dropping open. "You're evil!"
"You ain't seen nothing yet, buddy! Get your butt inside and help him to the car. I'm driving. I don't trust you to keep your eyes on the road while trying to analyse Lachlan's next stomach rebellion!" Tara gave him one last glare and bounded down the stairs.