(no subject)

[pitythetrumper]

It was pouring and he was drunk. Those were the only two thoughts he could keep in his head. No, three things. Pouring, drunk, and the fact that he fucking loathed Sergievsky. How Florence could have put up with him at all was something he didn't want to think about. It was lucky for him that he couldn't think. All he knew was his next destination was home, or at least what passed for home.

Nothing looked right, though. That cluster of trees. Wasn't it supposed to be over there? Or was he supposed to walk through them? Hell. He should have brought a drink back with him.

He closed his eyes, leaned back against a tree, and closed his eyes. He'd just stay for a little while. A few minutes.

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[drama-maureen.livejournal.com]

Maureen's breath caught. She too was pushing down something unpleasant welling up in her chest... guilt.

But one of Maureen's problems had always been that she didn't tend to think with her chest. Or her head. But something much, much lower.

"It makes you look sort of... dangerous," she said with a small, quirked smile. The white dress was still hanging off of her, soaked with water. She was wearing light blue underthings underneath. They too were wet.

[pitythetrumper]

Freddie's lips curled up. "And you like that?" Well, then. He stepped forward and slid his fingers under the bottom of the dress. "You really should get this off. Cold, remember?" His hands started moving up her dress, trailing over the skin softly.

[drama-maureen.livejournal.com]

"It is," Maureen said softly. Then she pulled the wet dress easily over her head and dropped it to the ground.

Then she smiled and walked back toward her bedroom, assuming he'd follow.

[pitythetrumper]

Freddie had another moment where he could either turn and go or follow her in. A face flickered through his mind, but it was gone again before he could place it. He followed her in.