BLAME IT ON THE VODKA, BLAME IT ON THE HENNY~♬
Who: Emi, Ivan, Jared, Loto, and John.
When: September 10th, late evening (or early Saturday morning).
Where: Some bar, the streets of Liberty, and John's apartment. Oh, what a night~
What: There should be something wrong about this since they're technically breaking-and-entering while intoxicated. But she has a key, so it's totally legal. Yeah. Totally.
Perhaps it hadn't been such a bright idea to strike up that challenge. Challenge, drinking competition, spur-of-the-moment-act-of-stupidity, it was all the same. Though, in all honesty, the game had started off well enough. A few snarky remarks here and there, some gloating, and the occasional cheer from a bystander when either Emi or Ivan opted to carry on and order another drink instead of throwing in the towel (granted, the recent stress in Emi's life made the whole prospect of drinking all the more tempting). But it wasn't until their umpteenth drink that things started to go just a little bit wrong.
Wrong as in an hour into their little competition, a drunken idiot had somehow managed to get himself in a brawl. With half of the bar's occupants. Unable to get the bar tender's attention for another drink - as the poor man was much too busy trying to break up the fight before another chair was broken - both Ivan and Emi had decided, forlornly, that it was time to leave. And with no clear winner to boot!
Well. They had both attempted to sneak (read: stumble) out of the bar, but the wildly swinging and hoarsely yelling crowd beside them seemed to have had other plans for the tipsy pair. Plans that involved attempting to drag them into the mess, which only resulted in the short woman kicking a leering idiot between the legs as her taller companion retaliated with a bit of violence of his own. But, in the end, they had both wound up out of the bar and on to the dark streets of Liberty. Laughing, stumbling, bumping into things, and using each other as support whenever it seemed that one of them was about to feel over from all the alcohol they had consumed earlier.
"Ivan.... Trotsky...."
"It's... Braginsky."
"H-Haaaaaaa. They both end in '-sky.' I was," A pause followed by a drunken giggle. "I was totally close."
Oh, what a pair they made.
However, it wasn't until Emi found out that Ivan did not want to return home to his apartment (because of his psychopathic sister), that she decided it'd be a fantastic idea to let the poor man sleep over.
Unfortunately, they wound up missing Emi's apartment and the fifth floor altogether and found themselves stumbling into...John, Loto, and Jared's apartment. At one in the morning. Or midnight. Or maybe it was three in the morning. Whatever. Emi didn't care about that, as she was much too busy faintly wondering why her living room looked so different. And why was the television still on-? Was Luciano still awake-? What. Ever.
Absently motioning down the hall while loudly shushing the blond (just in case Luciano was sleeping), Emi directed Ivan towards the bathroom, as he had said something about wanting to go. Or something. She couldn't quite remember. Taking a step forward, and stumbling in the process, Emi made her way towards what she assumed was her room. Shoes soon kicked off, she crawled towards what she, once again, assumed was her bed, brow crinkling slightly as she noticed the large lump under the covers. Did she not clean earlier-? And why did her pillows smell like cigarette smoke? Ugh. Head. Hurting. It was time to sleep, not think. Shrugging it off, she burrowed further into the bed.
When: September 10th, late evening (or early Saturday morning).
Where: Some bar, the streets of Liberty, and John's apartment. Oh, what a night~
What: There should be something wrong about this since they're technically breaking-and-entering while intoxicated. But she has a key, so it's totally legal. Yeah. Totally.
Perhaps it hadn't been such a bright idea to strike up that challenge. Challenge, drinking competition, spur-of-the-moment-act-of-stupidity, it was all the same. Though, in all honesty, the game had started off well enough. A few snarky remarks here and there, some gloating, and the occasional cheer from a bystander when either Emi or Ivan opted to carry on and order another drink instead of throwing in the towel (granted, the recent stress in Emi's life made the whole prospect of drinking all the more tempting). But it wasn't until their umpteenth drink that things started to go just a little bit wrong.
Wrong as in an hour into their little competition, a drunken idiot had somehow managed to get himself in a brawl. With half of the bar's occupants. Unable to get the bar tender's attention for another drink - as the poor man was much too busy trying to break up the fight before another chair was broken - both Ivan and Emi had decided, forlornly, that it was time to leave. And with no clear winner to boot!
Well. They had both attempted to sneak (read: stumble) out of the bar, but the wildly swinging and hoarsely yelling crowd beside them seemed to have had other plans for the tipsy pair. Plans that involved attempting to drag them into the mess, which only resulted in the short woman kicking a leering idiot between the legs as her taller companion retaliated with a bit of violence of his own. But, in the end, they had both wound up out of the bar and on to the dark streets of Liberty. Laughing, stumbling, bumping into things, and using each other as support whenever it seemed that one of them was about to feel over from all the alcohol they had consumed earlier.
"Ivan.... Trotsky...."
"It's... Braginsky."
"H-Haaaaaaa. They both end in '-sky.' I was," A pause followed by a drunken giggle. "I was totally close."
Oh, what a pair they made.
However, it wasn't until Emi found out that Ivan did not want to return home to his apartment (because of his psychopathic sister), that she decided it'd be a fantastic idea to let the poor man sleep over.
Unfortunately, they wound up missing Emi's apartment and the fifth floor altogether and found themselves stumbling into...John, Loto, and Jared's apartment. At one in the morning. Or midnight. Or maybe it was three in the morning. Whatever. Emi didn't care about that, as she was much too busy faintly wondering why her living room looked so different. And why was the television still on-? Was Luciano still awake-? What. Ever.
Absently motioning down the hall while loudly shushing the blond (just in case Luciano was sleeping), Emi directed Ivan towards the bathroom, as he had said something about wanting to go. Or something. She couldn't quite remember. Taking a step forward, and stumbling in the process, Emi made her way towards what she assumed was her room. Shoes soon kicked off, she crawled towards what she, once again, assumed was her bed, brow crinkling slightly as she noticed the large lump under the covers. Did she not clean earlier-? And why did her pillows smell like cigarette smoke? Ugh. Head. Hurting. It was time to sleep, not think. Shrugging it off, she burrowed further into the bed.