(Untitled)

[yuppie_trash]

Slouching in a booth.

Coffee with three sugars don't help--

With massive hangover.

Comments

[beauty_marred]

"That posture will do nothing for the appearance of your suit." A light and elegant voice observes.

[yuppie_trash]

"It's so easy to stop caring about the suit when you know you can buy another," and the volume of his voice is kept low, lazy. He offers a camera-flash grin-- quick--and it's gone. "Patrick, and you are?"

[beauty_marred]

"Too true. I admit to having several items in my own closet that haven't seen the light of day more than once." She smirks slightly.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

[yuppie_trash]

"Which means that you are of high class." He notes. "I can admire that."

[song_tra_bong]

Try a glass of water

and two aspirin, set down

with deliberate care.

[yuppie_trash]

"Thank you, sweetheart." He pushes away the cup of coffee, accepts the asprin. Pops them into his mouth, one and two, and swallows them dry. Throat coated. Chased with a drink of water.

[song_tra_bong]

"You're welcome, dear."

She takes a seat across from him, keeping her voice to low volume.

"Must have been some party."

[yuppie_trash]

A smile twitches across his mouth and fades, his tone faintly wry when he murmurs back, "It wasn't."

"It was the Atlantean."

[giftedthom]

You look rotten.

[yuppie_trash]

"I'm glad you can see that."

[giftedthom]

Yeah, I'm pretty lucky to have the faculty of sight.

[yuppie_trash]

"Unfortunately."

He inspects his coffee, doesn't drink it--oh, yes.

"Was there a gift from you?"