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[smokeeasy]

Characters: smokeeasy and bulletcarnage
Location: Casualty Communal, Heine's apartment
Rating: PG-13
Time: August 29 (evening) until August 30 (late night), after this and this (both still in progress).
Description: The best way to deal with stress, let-down, and feeling generally disheartened? Sit on a friend's couch and play video games. Oh, and talk. The talk is

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[smokeeasy]

"Oh, right. Sorry." Badou cleared his throat rather more loudly than necessary.

Either he hadn't noticed what thin ice he was skating on or else he didn't care. From his perspective though, the ice was just thick enough beneath both of them to hold Heine's weight. So the trick was to lead Heine out to where he'd crash through the surface without getting dragged under as well. Easier said than done, but Badou had never been the type of guy to be dissuaded from an opportunity over concerns for his own personal safety.

Situating himself on the couch in a posture that roughly mirrored Heine's, he made a show of preparing himself to give a more accurate rendition. When he felt that he was adequately arranged, he closed his single eye and exhaled an exaggeratedly languid breath, raising his fingers to caress his own throat.

"It kind of sits in your throat for a second and then going down it just feels really damn good." He said it more slowly than Heine had initially done, lingering on the words--especially 'feels,' which he turned practically into a breathy moan. But however overplayed, the effect was still only meant to be half-comical. Sure, he was making fun of Heine, but not for what he'd said; just for being too damn thick to realize what he'd said.