BLAME IT ON THE VODKA, BLAME IT ON THE HENNY~♬

[salylimon]

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.

Comments

[das_vedanya]

He wrinkled his nose a touch, coming to realize that the rumors of Emi’s apartment smelling like cinnamon and nutmeg were truly, undeniably, and sadly, untrue. Still, the smell of cigarette smoke soaked into certain walls and ceiling, and made even the strange scents of Ivan’s apartment more appealing, as Natalia had forbidden him from smoking indoors. His cigarettes always mysteriously vanished, but it wasn’t something worth pondering over. He could already feel his frontal lobe screeching at him - ”Durak! I haven’t fully developed yet; even if you can’t think of the consequences of heavy drinking, you should still be aware due to your past experiences!” His ears were ringing, still. Something that sounded like the Russian author’s name that Emiliana had confused him for played on repeat: Braginsky… Trotsky… Braginsky… Trotsky… and he most certainly did not want to wake with an ice axe protruding from his underdeveloped frontal lobe.

Apparently, hours of programs in Psychology about alcohol’s effects on the brain had done nothing to hinder the eleven… thirteen… maybe… shots he’d consumed… or was it eight?

…six… nine. He flushed, and stumbled into the cool tile bathroom that still did not smell like the promised cinnamon. And after - ahem - making proper use of the facilities, his underdeveloped frontal lobe, hindered by the effects of Smirnoff, decided that the bathtub would make a perfect substitute for bed. “Bathtub”… “bed”, bah, they both started with ‘b.’ He also did not want to wake up with Bruises around his eye sockets because Emiliana’s bed sounded more comfortable. N-not that he was romantically interested in his friend. The bed was also too far away.

He stumbled in, let his legs and outside arm drape over the cold tile wall, and substituted the damp towel hanging on the towel rack for a pillow.

Close enough…