@trashpauper
“Hey.” He balls up a post-it and throws it. It hits Nath on the shoulder. “Stop moving my shit. It’s in a specific order.”
occasionally subtle
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@trashpauper
“Hey.” He balls up a post-it and throws it. It hits Nath on the shoulder. “Stop moving my shit. It’s in a specific order.”
ebsledge:
That question doesn’t assure Sledge that Dom is any less wild than anyone else he’s seen tonight. ‘Uh, no. Not socially.’ It made sense in his head, so he sticks with it.
‘How long have you known Tobias?’ When Snafu introduced them, Tobias at least seemed genuine, even if Sledge couldn’t picture becoming fast friends with him.
“Jesus. Uh, years, now. He’s a really good friend.” Sometimes Dom wants to unscrew his head from his shoulders and punt it off something like the top of a building or a cliff, but it’s hard for him to badmouth Tobi in front of other people. He doesn’t really deserve that. “He’s been good for me, at least. Everybody should have at least one Tobi in their lives.”
ebsledge:
Uncertain of his actions, he does so, just to stand with the bottle swiftly warming in his sweaty hands.
‘What’s your name?’ Before he runs off, he should probably introduce himself. Party etiquette. ‘I’m Eugene. I get called Sledge.’
“Dom. I get called Dom. Hey.” He peers at the collection of bottles for a moment, and then at Sledge. “It’s kinda wild back there, right? I only came ’cause Tobias wouldn’t have shut the fuck up about it if I hadn’t.” Dom pats down his pockets for the reassuring bulk of a pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?”
ebsledge:
‘I don’t know anything about alcohol.’ He’s not really admitting anything there, just stating a fact. ‘I’m on drinks duty because I got caught standing around not enjoying myself. How about you, are you on drinks guard duty?’
He hasn’t picked up the bottle.
“I’m on Hiding In The Kitchen So People Don’t Catch Me Standing Around Not Enjoying Myself duty. So, no guarding, go ahead.” He had a glass of wine at one point that he lost in the fray, and really, he isn’t missing it all that much.
ebsledge:
‘Marines. They’re different things.’ Sledge is wondering who this guy knows and why he’s here if he doesn’t know Snafu that well. It feels much too big of a party to ask, as they might just end up with a couple of long lists of people neither of them know, so he focuses on a more immediate query.
‘Do you know if this is supposed to be mixed? It kinda tastes like shampoo.’
“Right.” Dom doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He’s busy thanking whoever’s out there that he never went into the armed forces.
He hides a wide smile beneath a thinner, more conservative one. “Uh, you could make a margarita? You need tequila and lime juice too. But Cointreau’s usually pretty good on its own. Better than your run-of-the-mill triple sec, I mean. Why are you on drinks duty, anyway?”
ebsledge:
‘I’m with the person who brought it. I guess it’s half mine but it’s wasted on me.’ It matches his hair, the first thing about the drink he was moderately displeased to have noticed. He tried it and didn’t like its sharp yet bitter taste.
Sledge gives Dom a mildly amused look and reaches for the bottle again, slower, as if his sudden movements were the problem– and he’d been trying not to make any all night.
“I guess you’ll be spared then, huh.” Dom wedges his hip against the countertop and gives Sledge a critical look which very obviously says you are absolutely not twenty-one. “But he was in the army, right? I met him, like, once.” He was introduced with a nickname, a military acronym, but all Dom remembers is that low-throated Cajun drawl. Birds of a Louisianan feather, maybe, except Dom didn’t really like him much.
@ebsledge
“Hey, wait a sec.” Before Eugene can make a grab for the bottle of Cointreau on the countertop Dom is sliding over to stop him. “That’s, uh, definitely not for public consumption. I saw the guy who brought it in here earlier threatening anyone who helped themselves to it. I think he was in the army, so...”
“ソックス大自慢。一目惚れして即買いしてしまった(めったにない)。古代ローマのモザイク画のような絵柄と色合い素晴らしい! Fell in love with there socks! #bonnemaison #france” (Hine Mizushima/水島ひね(@sheishine)さん | Twitterから)
Timofei Rudenko at PFW F/W 2016 by Betty Bounthavy
Jour de pluie
Hans Fronius - Franz Kafka