((o hmy god u dORK
Send ~ for my muse’s reaction to waking up and realizing that our muses had a drunken one-night stand after a wild party.
Lawrence rubbed his face, seeing that everything was sore. He suspected it was a drill from yesterday. The old hag never lets them rest, well him in particular. She never really liked him much…he grumbled at the thought. He turned on his side, his groggy vision seeing another figure laying next to him. What the fuck. He rubbed his eyes once more, and soon his vision cleared up.
"How the fuck did ya get in here?” He was seething. Why is that little asshole in his room—in the base!
What the hell happened?
Craig warily opened his eyes, hearing some asshole’s voice. He sat up and yawned, looking around his surroundings. Well. This wasn’t his room. He shifted his gaze into the Scout, an eyebrow raised. What the fuck was going on? Where was he, and why was this prick staring him down like he had just kicked a puppy? Too many questions swarmed through Craig’s head, and yet the only intelligent thing he could say was, “What?”
No one said my way of dealing with things was a healthy way.
Craig blinked and raised his hand up to see what had been placed in his hair. He grabbed the plant, examining it for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to Kyle. “A weed? You put a weed on my head?”
It was too late for this kind of shit. Too late for his shitty phone to go off, too late for him to be awake, and too late for whatever prick decided it was an amazing idea to call him. He growled and grabbed the phone, answering said prick. “Fuck off.”
"But we just got started." He called Craig only for a small bit of revenge for the last time he called him. It was only fair.
Ugh. It would be Lawrence. First this guy bugged him in the day, but now at night? Fuck that. “And now we’re just finishing.”