(log) All's fair in love and war. And coffee. (Complete)
Name(s): Godot, Mia
Location: Godot's bedroom
Day: 27
Time: Early early morning
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Caffeine-addict going through withdrawal... you'd be pissed too lll/
Light filtered into his room, but Diego couldn't see it as he reached out for his mask. It was something that had occurred to him over his last couple of meetings with Mia - perhaps 'Godot' was the name of his mask, a performance played out, but no one quite new what role he played. Was he the trickster, half in shadow and half in light, always moving and never predicatable? Two different halves? It seemed strangely appropriate, and Diego chuckled to himself at the thought as he hooked his visor carefully over his eyes, finally allowing himself to see as he padded silently across the cool stone floor of his bedroom. A new breed of Harlequin.
Threading his fingers through his hair to absently calm it from the chaos of restless sleep, Diego - no, Godot now, the mask was on - picked up the filter and automatically spooned one, two, three large scoops in.
But the coffee machine wasn't there. Godot blinked, turned back to blend 109, and back to where his favourite, most valued coffee machine rested. The one he trusted to wake him up in the morning and prepare for another day of swimming through the turbulent currents of idiocy.
It was still gone.
".... What?"
The familiar tingling of a welcome presence, rather unexpected considering the circumstances danced across his skin. Frown etched into his face, Godot turned to face Mia. Welcome she might be, but this was a confusing puzzle and none of the pieces were ready to fall into place. Actually, with no coffee Godot was pretty sure no pieces would ever fall into place. Gaze resting on Mia, he pointed to the regular habitat of Felicia, coffee machine extraordinaire. "Kitten. Where is she?"
Location: Godot's bedroom
Day: 27
Time: Early early morning
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Caffeine-addict going through withdrawal... you'd be pissed too lll/
Light filtered into his room, but Diego couldn't see it as he reached out for his mask. It was something that had occurred to him over his last couple of meetings with Mia - perhaps 'Godot' was the name of his mask, a performance played out, but no one quite new what role he played. Was he the trickster, half in shadow and half in light, always moving and never predicatable? Two different halves? It seemed strangely appropriate, and Diego chuckled to himself at the thought as he hooked his visor carefully over his eyes, finally allowing himself to see as he padded silently across the cool stone floor of his bedroom. A new breed of Harlequin.
Threading his fingers through his hair to absently calm it from the chaos of restless sleep, Diego - no, Godot now, the mask was on - picked up the filter and automatically spooned one, two, three large scoops in.
But the coffee machine wasn't there. Godot blinked, turned back to blend 109, and back to where his favourite, most valued coffee machine rested. The one he trusted to wake him up in the morning and prepare for another day of swimming through the turbulent currents of idiocy.
It was still gone.
".... What?"
The familiar tingling of a welcome presence, rather unexpected considering the circumstances danced across his skin. Frown etched into his face, Godot turned to face Mia. Welcome she might be, but this was a confusing puzzle and none of the pieces were ready to fall into place. Actually, with no coffee Godot was pretty sure no pieces would ever fall into place. Gaze resting on Mia, he pointed to the regular habitat of Felicia, coffee machine extraordinaire. "Kitten. Where is she?"