West Attic

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

Saturday Morning Afternoon

Domino sat up in bed, eyed the clock menacingly, and briefly wondered why elephants were playing football in her head. Ah. Punch. Spiked punch. That was right. Somehow, she didn't think it was very fair that she had a hangover when she'd hardly been drunk at all.

"Gah," she muttered inarticulately, and vacated the bed, stumbling towards the coffee maker and the promise of caffeinated salvation.

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[sparkplugfelix.livejournal.com]

In a corner of the room, what might have been a pile of clothes shifted, revealing Felix, clad in (most) of his tux. Although, if one had looked closely, one would have noticed that two of the buttons were missing, and it was buttoned wrong. There was also what might have been purple lipstick on his neck.

Hearing movement, he cracked open his eyes--and immediately wished he hadn't. Light assaulted his abused and battered pupils. He closed them quickly, and searched for a moment in his brain, trying to conjure up something, anything.

"My name is Simon?" He finally croaked.

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

Dom eyed the lump of Felix speculatively. "I sure as hell hope not, or I brought the wrong date home." She then turned back to the coffee maker, which required the sum total of her concentrative powers to set up. Once brown liquid was bubbling gleefully into the carafe, she continued. "I did promise you'd have fun."

[sparkplugfelix.livejournal.com]

Busy discovering that up was not down, Felix took his time replying, and finally said, "It was fun. At least... I think it was fun... I can't quite--ow." He tugged at his dress shirt, and eyed the lines of ink on his collar. "Uh... Dom? What did we do last night?"

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

Deciding she'd waited long enough, Dom grabbed the half filled carafe in one hand, and emptied the contents of a nearby mug into a potted plant before refilling it, sticking the carafe back to collect the rest of the coffee, and holding up one finger in the international 'wait a minute' sign while she downed the steaming hot coffee.

"We," she replied, "had a night on the town. After drinking far too much of the obviously spiked punch. The details are a little fuzzy." She groped around on the little table behind her blindly for a moment before producing a bottle. "Need an aspirin?"

[sparkplugfelix.livejournal.com]

"And we got... pens and drew on each other..." Felix eyed the piece of tape and bandage that had obviously come loose during the night. "Right?" He was trying for hope, but since he was pretty sure there was bruise and at least one small puncture wound that the tattoo was real. And permanent. So very permanent.

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

She snorted. "No, I'm pretty sure there were no pens involved. Unless I'm now an overly-violent artist and someone booted me in the ass some time last night." She winced. "Sitting's going to be a.... uh. Well, pain in the ass."

[sparkplugfelix.livejournal.com]

"Ah." He made a face. "I don't suppose the coffee's done." It might help the pounding in his head. And his hazy memory. "We danced," he said suddenly.

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

Dom eyed the coffee maker. "Close enough." She then rummaged around in a box until she pulled out a black cup proudly proclaimed 'Miami-Dade County Morgue' and poured come of the coffee into it. "And, yes, we did. You Dance very well, too." She handed the cup to Felix. "There's uh... fake powdered creamer crap and sugar in a box somewhere. I don't touch the stuff myself."

[sparkplugfelix.livejournal.com]

"Nah, I'm good." His brain beginning to work only slightly better, Felix took a sip. And burned his tongue.

Maybe his higher faculties weren't working. "Ow." he mumbled, waggling his tongue and wishing he'd thought before taking that drink.

[littleluck.livejournal.com]

"Heh. Sorry. Should have warned you." She slumped next to him on the floor. "Ow. Why the hell did I decide my ass was an excellent place for some body art anyway?"