Drunk.
Kreska was drunk. Kind of drunk. A little drunk. Just a little… kind of… a smidge drunk. Teensy little bit drunk.
The skybox was spinning. The colony was spinning? The gutter was spinning. Was she spinning? No. No, that would be stupid.
She needed to sleep off the whiskey. And the vodka. And the… oh, fuck. Did she have Krotazi wine? Why did she have Krotazi wine. A dare, probably. Fuck damn. Her mouth tasted like… firepennies. A ball of molten nickel, in her mouth. Could she call a car? She fumbled getting the tablet out of her pocket, and sent plats scattering onto the metal grate beneath her. She dropped the tablet to catch those, instead, cracking the corner of the screen as she scrambled to get the precious bits of metal back in her pockets.
Ha. That was right. She made money. Lotsa money. By being… awesome. Too awesome. Thus, grate. Yes. It was all becoming clear to her now. She squinted at her tablet. The letters swam more than was usual. She smacked gently at the screen to get the letters to stay still, and cut her thumb on the line of broken glass in the process.
No car. Bad. Bad wrong. Badong. She snorted. Who lived near here? Not Lio, posh fucker. Nova was no. Maybe if she whistled Onion would try to come get her anyway. She tried it, before giving up, covering her ears to protect them from the sound she'd made. Fuck. Definitely no Grilka. Ic? No. Do not want. Fate was fuckin'… ha. No. Unless she wanted to… crawl inside a computer. Or something. No letters no tablets no calls. Walking distance.
"Rocket!" she announced to no one, pleased. She drew herself generally upright with great effort, shoving her tablet back into her jacket. Her much abused, now repaired Jobari leather jacket. "Rock-rock-rocket-kit-kit-kit." That didn't really work as a song. She started climbing up a fire escape, boots slipping rather more than usual off of metal. Someone pinged her tablet, and she smacked her bracelet to make it stop, letting go of the ladder in the process so that she was hanging upside-down by her knees, back slamming into the rungs beneath her.
Was she upside-down? She was upside-down.
She swung herself upright, and the headrush almost made her vomit, making her laugh instead. She finished the climb, and started walking along the roof of the building. She squinted at her thumb, green blood running down into her palm. She licked her palm and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking on it as she walked wobbly down a pipe barely wider than her not-particularly-large feet. She popped the digit out of her mouth and splayed out both hands to catch her when she stumbled forward onto a different roof, landing on her stomach. "Rocky-rock-rock-kit-kit-kit." She got to her feet again, knee of her jeans scraped along with her palms.
Yes. Good. She remembered how to get there. Yes. Good.
She slid down a gutter on the side of a building, immediately landing on her ass. She kicked the gutter for revenge. It wasn't a long walk from there to Rocket's garage, and Kreska leaned against the wall outside as she squinted suspiciously at the lock.
Those numbers sure were moving a lot.
They were giving her a headache, actually, so she closed her eyes and tried to remember the general shape of the access code. Somehow, she successfully jabbed it in blind, stumbling inside.
Where for sleeps. Car? No. Maybe? No. What if Rocket gave it to someone? Sleeping Kreska secretly inside. No. Bad idea. Ships: same problems. No sleeping there. Loft. Lofty loft. Couch? What if someone came over? Sleeping Kreska on the couch, with company. Bad idea. Was there an extra room? Maybe. But. Had to be sure Rocket would know she was here. Because polite. Didn't want to wake her up. Fucking rude. Obvious solution was obvious. She let her jacket slide off her shoulders onto the floor, landing with a thunk because her tablet was still inside. She leaned against a wall as she kicked off her boots, attempting to walk at the same time, and somehow not falling. The last to go were her jeans, because sleeping in jeans was… uncomfortable. And weird. Weirdfortable. Badong.
With a yawn, she crawled into Rocket's bed.
Kreska was drunk. Kind of drunk. A little drunk. Just a little… kind of… a smidge drunk. Teensy little bit drunk.
The skybox was spinning. The colony was spinning? The gutter was spinning. Was she spinning? No. No, that would be stupid.
She needed to sleep off the whiskey. And the vodka. And the… oh, fuck. Did she have Krotazi wine? Why did she have Krotazi wine. A dare, probably. Fuck damn. Her mouth tasted like… firepennies. A ball of molten nickel, in her mouth. Could she call a car? She fumbled getting the tablet out of her pocket, and sent plats scattering onto the metal grate beneath her. She dropped the tablet to catch those, instead, cracking the corner of the screen as she scrambled to get the precious bits of metal back in her pockets.
Ha. That was right. She made money. Lotsa money. By being… awesome. Too awesome. Thus, grate. Yes. It was all becoming clear to her now. She squinted at her tablet. The letters swam more than was usual. She smacked gently at the screen to get the letters to stay still, and cut her thumb on the line of broken glass in the process.
No car. Bad. Bad wrong. Badong. She snorted. Who lived near here? Not Lio, posh fucker. Nova was no. Maybe if she whistled Onion would try to come get her anyway. She tried it, before giving up, covering her ears to protect them from the sound she'd made. Fuck. Definitely no Grilka. Ic? No. Do not want. Fate was fuckin'… ha. No. Unless she wanted to… crawl inside a computer. Or something. No letters no tablets no calls. Walking distance.
"Rocket!" she announced to no one, pleased. She drew herself generally upright with great effort, shoving her tablet back into her jacket. Her much abused, now repaired Jobari leather jacket. "Rock-rock-rocket-kit-kit-kit." That didn't really work as a song. She started climbing up a fire escape, boots slipping rather more than usual off of metal. Someone pinged her tablet, and she smacked her bracelet to make it stop, letting go of the ladder in the process so that she was hanging upside-down by her knees, back slamming into the rungs beneath her.
Was she upside-down? She was upside-down.
She swung herself upright, and the headrush almost made her vomit, making her laugh instead. She finished the climb, and started walking along the roof of the building. She squinted at her thumb, green blood running down into her palm. She licked her palm and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking on it as she walked wobbly down a pipe barely wider than her not-particularly-large feet. She popped the digit out of her mouth and splayed out both hands to catch her when she stumbled forward onto a different roof, landing on her stomach. "Rocky-rock-rock-kit-kit-kit." She got to her feet again, knee of her jeans scraped along with her palms.
Yes. Good. She remembered how to get there. Yes. Good.
She slid down a gutter on the side of a building, immediately landing on her ass. She kicked the gutter for revenge. It wasn't a long walk from there to Rocket's garage, and Kreska leaned against the wall outside as she squinted suspiciously at the lock.
Those numbers sure were moving a lot.
They were giving her a headache, actually, so she closed her eyes and tried to remember the general shape of the access code. Somehow, she successfully jabbed it in blind, stumbling inside.
Where for sleeps. Car? No. Maybe? No. What if Rocket gave it to someone? Sleeping Kreska secretly inside. No. Bad idea. Ships: same problems. No sleeping there. Loft. Lofty loft. Couch? What if someone came over? Sleeping Kreska on the couch, with company. Bad idea. Was there an extra room? Maybe. But. Had to be sure Rocket would know she was here. Because polite. Didn't want to wake her up. Fucking rude. Obvious solution was obvious. She let her jacket slide off her shoulders onto the floor, landing with a thunk because her tablet was still inside. She leaned against a wall as she kicked off her boots, attempting to walk at the same time, and somehow not falling. The last to go were her jeans, because sleeping in jeans was… uncomfortable. And weird. Weirdfortable. Badong.
With a yawn, she crawled into Rocket's bed.
The following 3 users Like Tindome's post: Blade, danixiewrites, megs
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The Thorn [Closed] - by tindome - 08-21-2015, 06:33 PM
The Thorn [Closed] - by tindome - 08-21-2015, 06:34 PM
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RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 11-24-2015, 09:51 PM
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RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 11-29-2015, 03:16 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 03-09-2016, 03:26 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-10-2016, 11:25 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 03-10-2016, 06:00 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-10-2016, 09:28 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 03-12-2016, 07:03 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-12-2016, 06:00 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 03-16-2016, 10:41 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-16-2016, 01:45 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 07-05-2016, 06:27 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 08-30-2016, 09:05 PM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 10-08-2016, 06:24 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-13-2017, 06:31 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by megs - 10-19-2019, 09:31 AM
RE: The Thorn [Closed] - by Tindome - 10-19-2019, 01:31 PM