[THREAD] Typical morning?
Who: Mason, River, and Giovanni.
Where: Usual pancake house that Mason frequents.
When: Early morning.
Summary: Mason has a breakfast visitor.
Rating: PG?
Other: Unluckiest bastard ever.
"Can I have beer with my breakfast?" Mason asked this question every morning and always got the same answer. No. He would have to go with ass-juice -- otherwise known as grapefruit juice. If he settled with soda, then he would just be settling. He'd rather torment his body by guzzling down that jizz than having to know that he was just accepting a Sprite because he could not get wasted at -- whatever fuck time in the morning it was. He supposed that he could slip some of the alcohol that he has in his flask into his morning drink, but last time he did that, he had gotten scolded and the people threatened to never let him back again.
He couldn't let that happen. This place was his fucking church lately. After the memories of the pancake house and people he did not even know had entered his mind, he couldn't stop coming to this place. He hoped that it would jog something else, but it hadn't. Mason had thought that maybe those were his real memories. The memories before he had been experimented on. That was a rather terrifying thought. After so many years of being okay with never knowing what his life was like, he now had to be shown glimpses of it. Seemed like a rather shitty kick in the balls. Not to mention, he was still getting over his trip from eating half his stash.
That had been done out of desperation of wanting to forget that his two least favorite people were in the city together. At the same time. He was sure that this was the sign of The End, but it seemed like he was going to be okay. Also, the best part about coming out early was that Giovanni would most likely be home and not shotting at his head. Win-win all around. So things were okay enough that he would be ordering the Mexican special for breakfast. Hey, who the fuck cared that this was a pancake house? If they had it on the fucking menu for breakfast, then they should fucking serve it. Who the fuck cared if the other customers thought that that was weird as shit. He was hungry, dammit! And maybe he would get some crispy bacon on the side.
Where: Usual pancake house that Mason frequents.
When: Early morning.
Summary: Mason has a breakfast visitor.
Rating: PG?
Other: Unluckiest bastard ever.
"Can I have beer with my breakfast?" Mason asked this question every morning and always got the same answer. No. He would have to go with ass-juice -- otherwise known as grapefruit juice. If he settled with soda, then he would just be settling. He'd rather torment his body by guzzling down that jizz than having to know that he was just accepting a Sprite because he could not get wasted at -- whatever fuck time in the morning it was. He supposed that he could slip some of the alcohol that he has in his flask into his morning drink, but last time he did that, he had gotten scolded and the people threatened to never let him back again.
He couldn't let that happen. This place was his fucking church lately. After the memories of the pancake house and people he did not even know had entered his mind, he couldn't stop coming to this place. He hoped that it would jog something else, but it hadn't. Mason had thought that maybe those were his real memories. The memories before he had been experimented on. That was a rather terrifying thought. After so many years of being okay with never knowing what his life was like, he now had to be shown glimpses of it. Seemed like a rather shitty kick in the balls. Not to mention, he was still getting over his trip from eating half his stash.
That had been done out of desperation of wanting to forget that his two least favorite people were in the city together. At the same time. He was sure that this was the sign of The End, but it seemed like he was going to be okay. Also, the best part about coming out early was that Giovanni would most likely be home and not shotting at his head. Win-win all around. So things were okay enough that he would be ordering the Mexican special for breakfast. Hey, who the fuck cared that this was a pancake house? If they had it on the fucking menu for breakfast, then they should fucking serve it. Who the fuck cared if the other customers thought that that was weird as shit. He was hungry, dammit! And maybe he would get some crispy bacon on the side.