Frills and stilettos mend broken hearts.
WHO: Emi, John, and Logan
WHEN: July 7th, late Wednesday night
WHERE: The Charleston, John's apartment
WHAT: Cross dressing, comforting, and that's totally not a boner what are you talking about-?
Emi was in a hurry.
After grabbing both her keys and the key John had made made for her, she out the door without so much as a word to Luciano or her brother. Not like it mattered, really. After Juan had dragged in that large and foreboding picture of La Virgen de Guadalupe, Emi was more than fine with avoiding her idiot brother and that guilt-trip inducing portrait.
Now, speeding down the stairs of the Charleston (because like hell if she was waiting for that slow elevator right now), she was on her way to John. And, really, now she was wondering if she should have brought anything else along with her. Like movies. Or ice cream. Or even some of that expensive tequila she only took out for special occasions, such as France getting knocked out from the World Cup.
But, no, there was no time for that - unless John wanted to drink his sorrows away, then, well, running back upstairs really wasn't much trouble for her.
Not at all.
Stumbling to a complete stop in front of John's door, Emi slipped out the key, adjusted the strap of the large bag she dragged with her, and knocked once to alert John that she was there before unlocking the door. Closing and locking the door once more, she stepped inside and took a quick look around before promptly spotting the giant lug of a man. "John-!" was all the warning Emi gave before she lunged forward, arms around the man's middle as she peered up at him in concern. "¿Cómo te va? ¿Necesitas algo? ¿Y por qué hueles como humo?"
{OOC translation: "How's it going? Do you need anything? And why do you smell like smoke?"}
WHEN: July 7th, late Wednesday night
WHERE: The Charleston, John's apartment
WHAT: Cross dressing, comforting, and that's totally not a boner what are you talking about-?
Emi was in a hurry.
After grabbing both her keys and the key John had made made for her, she out the door without so much as a word to Luciano or her brother. Not like it mattered, really. After Juan had dragged in that large and foreboding picture of La Virgen de Guadalupe, Emi was more than fine with avoiding her idiot brother and that guilt-trip inducing portrait.
Now, speeding down the stairs of the Charleston (because like hell if she was waiting for that slow elevator right now), she was on her way to John. And, really, now she was wondering if she should have brought anything else along with her. Like movies. Or ice cream. Or even some of that expensive tequila she only took out for special occasions, such as France getting knocked out from the World Cup.
But, no, there was no time for that - unless John wanted to drink his sorrows away, then, well, running back upstairs really wasn't much trouble for her.
Not at all.
Stumbling to a complete stop in front of John's door, Emi slipped out the key, adjusted the strap of the large bag she dragged with her, and knocked once to alert John that she was there before unlocking the door. Closing and locking the door once more, she stepped inside and took a quick look around before promptly spotting the giant lug of a man. "John-!" was all the warning Emi gave before she lunged forward, arms around the man's middle as she peered up at him in concern. "¿Cómo te va? ¿Necesitas algo? ¿Y por qué hueles como humo?"
{OOC translation: "How's it going? Do you need anything? And why do you smell like smoke?"}