(no subject)
What did one do when they were left with a bottle of tequila and no more slutty intern left to rail on (in her own mind) about the dissolution of her marriage? If you were Addison Montgomery, well...then you could do exactly what she was doing, which was sitting in the kitchen with the bottle of tequila (only found when she'd gone to offer an olive branch to Meredith Grey) and staring into space.
"Hey," a tall guy sat down in front of her. "Is that communal?" She'd seen him around, but he was young. Suspiciously so. And not just intern-young, but almost jailbait young. Sam Winny...or Winchester or something else.
She just clung the bottle to her, almost like a child. "This is mine. Get your own." Sure, protective, but she had to deal. There was still this smell in the kitchen too, like something had crawled into the oven, died, crawled out to season itself with manure, and crawled back in. And something that looked like dog food had been in the fridge. The English guy who had wandered in hadn't seem to like the smell, even though he'd just gone about making tea.
Addison did take a moment to appreciate his fingers. Really nice fingers, too. Long and well-manicured. So she had a thing for hands. She was a surgeon and allowed.
At least he wasn't complaining about it like the other guy, who had started cursing about the smell, which Addison rolled her eyes at. "Get out, then!" she told him, very blunt. "There is no reason for you to stay. None."
But this guy was stubborn and muttering about ingredients.
The tequila was looking better and better to Addison right now.
[Addison, Peter, Sam W., and McKay. Please just label who you want. Slowtime, late tags v. welcome as this is the last EP they'll get this month, probably, maybe]
"Hey," a tall guy sat down in front of her. "Is that communal?" She'd seen him around, but he was young. Suspiciously so. And not just intern-young, but almost jailbait young. Sam Winny...or Winchester or something else.
She just clung the bottle to her, almost like a child. "This is mine. Get your own." Sure, protective, but she had to deal. There was still this smell in the kitchen too, like something had crawled into the oven, died, crawled out to season itself with manure, and crawled back in. And something that looked like dog food had been in the fridge. The English guy who had wandered in hadn't seem to like the smell, even though he'd just gone about making tea.
Addison did take a moment to appreciate his fingers. Really nice fingers, too. Long and well-manicured. So she had a thing for hands. She was a surgeon and allowed.
At least he wasn't complaining about it like the other guy, who had started cursing about the smell, which Addison rolled her eyes at. "Get out, then!" she told him, very blunt. "There is no reason for you to stay. None."
But this guy was stubborn and muttering about ingredients.
The tequila was looking better and better to Addison right now.
[Addison, Peter, Sam W., and McKay. Please just label who you want. Slowtime, late tags v. welcome as this is the last EP they'll get this month, probably, maybe]