11 [Video]
[It is your day off. As much of one as you have anyway. You spent the day easily enough but now it's three in the morning and there is a phone call. One of your Turks. Telling you that there's a tiny problem with something and won't you please come deal with it?
Before you know it you're bursting out of a seedy bar with someone carried bridal style in your arms. Behind you are the sounds of skulls being cracked and drunks being taught some manners. You glance down at blond hair and a suit and for a moment it seems to be Elena in your arms.
Then you remember the curves aren't the same. The frame isn't the same. And this figure is wearing white. And is a boy.
"I had sex, Tseng," He declares. He smells like he slept in a keg. "I had sex with this girl and her boyfriend knows he's my bitch now."
You don't tell him how unwise it is to make enemies over something so foolish. He opens his mouth, obviously anticipating the lecture. You wait...and feel a hot rush as he heaves and vomits all over you.
Puke, mostly comprised of beer and stomach acid with the odd peanut, coats your suit jacket, sinking into your shirt and hitting your skin. It drips into your pants. You're pretty sure he projectile vomited into your face out of spite.
But you delicately put him on his feet in an alley and support him until he's done being ill. Hands rub his back and brush his hair from his face. Eyes drifting skyward, you sigh and wait it out. It's going to be at least two hours before you can shower, anyway.]
Before you know it you're bursting out of a seedy bar with someone carried bridal style in your arms. Behind you are the sounds of skulls being cracked and drunks being taught some manners. You glance down at blond hair and a suit and for a moment it seems to be Elena in your arms.
Then you remember the curves aren't the same. The frame isn't the same. And this figure is wearing white. And is a boy.
"I had sex, Tseng," He declares. He smells like he slept in a keg. "I had sex with this girl and her boyfriend knows he's my bitch now."
You don't tell him how unwise it is to make enemies over something so foolish. He opens his mouth, obviously anticipating the lecture. You wait...and feel a hot rush as he heaves and vomits all over you.
Puke, mostly comprised of beer and stomach acid with the odd peanut, coats your suit jacket, sinking into your shirt and hitting your skin. It drips into your pants. You're pretty sure he projectile vomited into your face out of spite.
But you delicately put him on his feet in an alley and support him until he's done being ill. Hands rub his back and brush his hair from his face. Eyes drifting skyward, you sigh and wait it out. It's going to be at least two hours before you can shower, anyway.]