gooseberryhigh | ST. PATRICK'S DAY PITY PARTY

ST. PATRICK'S DAY PITY PARTY

Oh my god. You are so hungover. Or maybe your friend is hungover. Either way, everyone knows Gooseberry goes hard on St. Patrick's Day, and this year was no exception. It's tradition for everyone to drag themselves out to Coppertale to try and recover and look for some pity.

WHAT'S GOING ON

This is a simple IC/OOC for all your hurt/comfort hangover needs.

This is very freeform! Use the elsewhere header if you want to do a scene... well, elsewhere.

If you come to hassle the poor drunks you'll be asked to leave! Haven't they suffered enough?

» Coppertale: The fire pit has been lit, there's coffee, water, and a nice simple breakfast. Vector passes through once, and clucks her tongue at the sick children. She doesn't bother to speak quietly if engaged, but she doesn't comment on the evidence of a party as long as no one looks bad enough to see Mufferaw. She doesn't linger long.

» The Lodge: Addy Foster-Hayes is reportedly brewing a hangover cure. There's also food available in the cafeteria, and plenty of big cushy chairs in the atrium.

» Elsewhere: Anything else goes here.

» QUESTIONS, COMMENTS & CONCERNS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He likes Cameron. Cameron is his favourite roommate, not that Iliya will ever admit this aloud, because he doesn't want to encourage anyone. But Cam's cheeriness is considerably less appealing when they're all so miserably hungover.

"I would rather be dead." Iliya weakly drags his blanket over his head.

"Think maybe I am dead," Ulysses affirms, voice still muffled by pillow. There's a half-hearted attempt to flip Cameron the bird from that position before he gives up and rolls over onto his back. "Casper definitely kicked it — ain't that right?" The last half of the sentence is called out in Casper's direction, although he doesn't expect much of a response.

"How come you're so chipper?" He asks Cameron, genuinely more curious than sour. "You were drinking. I feel like I been ate by a wolf and shat over a cliff."

Casper wishes that he was asleep...but he's definitely awake and he can definitely hear everything that his roommates are saying. Each miserable word seems to make his head ache a little more and he's caught between wanting to do nothing (just remaining silent and still with his face pressed into his pillow), wanting to tell them to shut the hell up (which is probably unreasonable), and wanting to actually join the conversation. If only because, like Ulysses, he wonders how in the hell Cameron can sound so fucking chipper.

Finally, he growls in a low but very unintimidating voice, "If either of you want me to put you out of your fucking misery, I'd be happy to oblige." He sounds as miserable as he feels. But he still manages to sit up, push back the curtain, and glare down at them all with dark, bleary eyes that eventually focus on Cameron. He wants to hear this too, Carney.

All eyes are on Cameron, exactly how it should be. "You've got to properly take care of your hangover, that's all," he says cheerfully, setting his backpack down on a side table. "You need energy!" he hands a biscuit wrapped in a napkin to each of his roommates, along with individual packets of honey. "The house elves are just so sweet, they packed these up for me when I told them y'all were all feeling under the weather." Then he pulls two large bottles of Gatorade out, though one is half empty already. "And electrolytes!" He puts out four of the solo cups they have in the room, then makes a show of shaking the unopened bottle like a cocktail. "I traded Clarence five Moon Pies for those." Then he pours four cups of sports drink, one for each of them. "Of course," he says, passing the cups around, "A hang over cure don't hurt either, but those are going as fast as they're brewed, and there weren't any extra to bring back."

Iliya's head hurts enough that part of him wants to completely ignore what everyone's saying, especially Cameron's loud, chipper explanation of how to properly take care of a hangover. He doesn't want to take care of this. He wants to expire in peace. But he has to yank the blanket off his messy hair when Cameron approaches, and mutely accepts the offered breakfast. The nice, inoffensive-smelling breakfast with electrolytes. Iliya rethinks his policy on encouraging roommates.

"Cameron," he grumbles. "Krasiv mŭzh. Obicham te." It's less humiliating to say in Bulgarian, especially if he uses a tone like he's inviting Cameron to fuck off. But Iliya drinks the Gatorade gratefully. Ahh, that's better.

Edited 2017-03-20 02:27 (UTC)

Ulysses has no such concerns, not that he has any idea what Iliya is saying. "Love you," he mumbles, his hand outstretched. "Love your whole family. You're a shining star and we oughta be grateful for your presence. Gimme a biscuit." When the Gatorade makes it to him, he tries to drink it while lying flat on his back and chokes. There's a good few seconds of weak coughing before he finally feels inspired to sit up.

"What a night. Think 'bout half of it might've actually been some kind of fever dream."

Edited 2017-03-20 11:29 (UTC)

The revelation that there's a cure explains Cameron's unbearably cheerful disposition and irritates Casper immediately. Maybe there will be more later, but for now they'll have to get by with fucking biscuits and fucking honey and fucking Gatorade. Still. He takes the offered items with a grumbled 'thanks' and drains half of the cup before saying anything else.

While Ulysses chokes and sputters, he rolls his eyes and sets his drink aside and pushes back his dark hair...which is still far nearer to perfect than it has any right to be. Then he ties it into a short ponytail that, at least, gets the hair out of his face and retorts dryly, "Just half?" Honestly, he thinks he remembers most of what happened last night, even with his head throbbing like it might split open and his mind still all slow and fuzzy. He...definitely let things go farther than he'd intended.

Edited 2017-03-20 17:23 (UTC)

"You are so very welcome, my friends," Cameron replies, taking a seat in one of the comfy chairs with the remaining half of his own Gatorade. Even if two out of three replies weren't so friendly, that's just because they're so very grumpy from their hangovers. "Can I get those exact words in writing, Uly? I want to frame them and put them up next to my bed."

"Nope, nope, not a fever dream at all," Cameron says to Casper, with a shit-eating grin. "And I think we all need to know one thing - who's the better kisser, me or Uly?"

Ulysses coughs again; this time Gatorade is not involved. "No one said anything about a competition," he complains, the tips of his ears going slightly pink. Good luck getting a declaration of his love in writing now, Carney. "Would've put more effort in."

"Still good enough to make Casper do body shots after," Iliya observes. He's feeling more coherent with some food and drink in him, and he sits up when Cameron comes over to the chairs. "Congratulations."

Casper's response to Cameron's grin is a flat glare. He doesn't look embarrassed or flustered by the turn the conversation has taken, just annoyed...at least until Iliya mentions the body shots. For a moment he looks uncharacteristically awkward. Then he snorts sharply and looks away from them all so he can focus on the arduous task of unwrapping the biscuit his roommate brought back. "Fuck off," he mutters, shaking his head and trying to take control of the conversation back...even if he has to talk about something completely asinine to do it. "And why, exactly, do you want my opinion? I'm not going to be your reference."

ST. PATRICK'S DAY PITY PARTY

Junior Ebonhide Boys

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Junior Ebonhide Boys (CUTTING IN LINE SORRY)

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*fuck yeah, Clarence! Yer a hustla baby

imagine cricket saying this