(no subject)
WHO: Kiden and Laura.
WHAT: Oh my god we're big again.
WHERE: Their apartment, Manhattan.
WHEN: Monday 22nd.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Kiden and Laura revert back to their loveable selves.
*
Kiden was used to waking up with headaches. Hangovers, more specifically, but this was altogether different, in a way that couldn't really be described. Other than by saying it felt like she'd been punched right through the skull, but Kiden wasn't sure that was a particularly good diagnosis. With a groan, she rolled off the mattress and landed on the floorboards with a thud, hoping it would wake her up some, but only ended up making the cat hiss at her. The cat that occasionally stopped by for food, and had somehow ended up in her room.
The cat that was looking a hell of a lot fatter than it did last night. Kiden stared at it, eyes narrowed, wondering if pizza crust was really that bad for cats, and then shooed it away. The cat left without complaint, possibly because there wasn't any food in the room, and Kiden reached for her phone, making sure it wasn't stupid o'clock.
Stupid o'clock it wasn't, but the date was all wrong. Not particularly caring why (she'd probably hit a few buttons in her sleep), Kiden flipped over to the network, because getting up so soon after waking up was out of the question. There'd probably be the usual bullshit going on to keep her entertained for a good half an hour, and maybe her long lost evil twin from another universe where she was president had turned up. Any day now.
While the usual nonsense was, indeed, going on, it was oddly relevant for once. Kiden only scanned the network, only glanced over posts and listened to bits and pieces of what was being said, because there was a hell of a lot of it to take in at once-people disappearing for a week, other versions being dragged into the universe. That would explain the whole date issue on the phone, but Kiden was still leaning towards the more obvious explanation of got drunk, passed out. It was good for her sanity.
Dragging herself to her feet, she shut off the network, and began flicking through her phone activity. No calls, no texts, nothing. Not for the past week. She opened up her media file, too, just in case, and-holy shit, was that a photo of a pocket-sized Laura? Kiden just kind of gawked at the screen, decided not to look at anything more, and marched out of her room, pounding her fists against Laura's door.
“Laura!” she called, kicking at the door, too. Just for added effect. “You'd better not be six in there, 'cause I'm not babysitting you.”
WHAT: Oh my god we're big again.
WHERE: Their apartment, Manhattan.
WHEN: Monday 22nd.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Kiden and Laura revert back to their loveable selves.
*
Kiden was used to waking up with headaches. Hangovers, more specifically, but this was altogether different, in a way that couldn't really be described. Other than by saying it felt like she'd been punched right through the skull, but Kiden wasn't sure that was a particularly good diagnosis. With a groan, she rolled off the mattress and landed on the floorboards with a thud, hoping it would wake her up some, but only ended up making the cat hiss at her. The cat that occasionally stopped by for food, and had somehow ended up in her room.
The cat that was looking a hell of a lot fatter than it did last night. Kiden stared at it, eyes narrowed, wondering if pizza crust was really that bad for cats, and then shooed it away. The cat left without complaint, possibly because there wasn't any food in the room, and Kiden reached for her phone, making sure it wasn't stupid o'clock.
Stupid o'clock it wasn't, but the date was all wrong. Not particularly caring why (she'd probably hit a few buttons in her sleep), Kiden flipped over to the network, because getting up so soon after waking up was out of the question. There'd probably be the usual bullshit going on to keep her entertained for a good half an hour, and maybe her long lost evil twin from another universe where she was president had turned up. Any day now.
While the usual nonsense was, indeed, going on, it was oddly relevant for once. Kiden only scanned the network, only glanced over posts and listened to bits and pieces of what was being said, because there was a hell of a lot of it to take in at once-people disappearing for a week, other versions being dragged into the universe. That would explain the whole date issue on the phone, but Kiden was still leaning towards the more obvious explanation of got drunk, passed out. It was good for her sanity.
Dragging herself to her feet, she shut off the network, and began flicking through her phone activity. No calls, no texts, nothing. Not for the past week. She opened up her media file, too, just in case, and-holy shit, was that a photo of a pocket-sized Laura? Kiden just kind of gawked at the screen, decided not to look at anything more, and marched out of her room, pounding her fists against Laura's door.
“Laura!” she called, kicking at the door, too. Just for added effect. “You'd better not be six in there, 'cause I'm not babysitting you.”