@dogboymista said: “uh… is that a fur ball?” / from highly concerned dogboy mista. catboy shenanigans: finale. for now.
the hangover pounds at buccellati's head exactly like he knew it would when he accepted that fifth shot of... something from mista last night, like a jackhammer excavating last night's corpse from the concrete of his skull. it's not at all helped by his head bent close to his knees, one arm on the rim of his toilet as he resamples everything that went into him six hours ago in reverse.
at least it's clean.
the astringent mint-and-bleach smell of his fastidious cleaning routine is a small comfort against the sheer indignity of being crouched over a toilet like some third-rate fratboy after his first rager. nevermind that mista is here to witness it— his ears flick at the thought, tail thrashing and thudding softly against the nearby shower glass in irritation.
"that’s normal," he croaks, voice broken both by the early hour and the fact that he feels like the next unlucky fish to have its head chopped by the monger. he roughly wipes spit from his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over to mista, ears down and tail limp with concern. "sorry, but could you fetch me some water? you know where the glasses are. any will do."