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inexplicably high, inexplicably low
⌛ Who: Grell and OPEN!
⌛ What: sometimes your fiancé shows up and doesn't recognize you because the crau hasn't kicked in so you decide it's time to just get over him
⌛ When: april 5th/6th, and a couple more nights
⌛ Where: Yoshiwara bars to start...
⌛ Warnings: alcohol+sexual content
[She didn't learn her lesson. She should have, should have learned it a long time ago, should have learned it with Ann, should have learned it with every single day of work she's put in. But she hadn't. She'd let herself care, a few weeks of close contact with strangers and life and death situations, and she'd let herself get attached.
Stupid of her, to care about a foolish, mortal man with sad eyes and an earnest heart, who took her by the hand and said things like I love you at all the wrong times.
It's the time loops, she knows that. It isn't his fault someone erased his Cinematic Record, or maybe that that part of it was never recorded in the first place. That doesn't mean she isn't going to blame him for it, because if he really loved her he wouldn't have forgotten her, would have moved heaven and earth and time itself to be here with her.
She finishes her drink, she's lost track of how many she's had but it doesn't matter, she doesn't want to think about counting drinks, or anything else right now. She's exactly where she wants to be.
At the start of the night it's fine, she's not in a good mood but she's an actress, she can smile and flirt and strike up conversations with pretty people at the various bars she's visiting. She's dressed up, a hint of makeup, loose pleated trousers and a ruffled shirt, a bright red haori. She's charming, attentive, flirtatious with a flutter of eyelashes and a flash of sharp teeth in a laugh.
Later, she can't be bothered. She'll watch, make a decision, gesture at a stranger to get them to come over. If they aren't expecting to be forcefully kissed by a slightly disheveled stranger with smudged lipstick, maybe they should learn to read the room better.
Later still, or early the next morning (it doesn't matter, those hours after midnight aren't important) she's slumped on the counter of a bar, toying with a cup of something-or-other. Her red hair is pulled loose from what must have been a careful updo at some point earlier, her blouse isn't quite buttoned correctly, and she's frowning at her drink.]
⌛ What: sometimes your fiancé shows up and doesn't recognize you because the crau hasn't kicked in so you decide it's time to just get over him
⌛ When: april 5th/6th, and a couple more nights
⌛ Where: Yoshiwara bars to start...
⌛ Warnings: alcohol+sexual content
[She didn't learn her lesson. She should have, should have learned it a long time ago, should have learned it with Ann, should have learned it with every single day of work she's put in. But she hadn't. She'd let herself care, a few weeks of close contact with strangers and life and death situations, and she'd let herself get attached.
Stupid of her, to care about a foolish, mortal man with sad eyes and an earnest heart, who took her by the hand and said things like I love you at all the wrong times.
It's the time loops, she knows that. It isn't his fault someone erased his Cinematic Record, or maybe that that part of it was never recorded in the first place. That doesn't mean she isn't going to blame him for it, because if he really loved her he wouldn't have forgotten her, would have moved heaven and earth and time itself to be here with her.
She finishes her drink, she's lost track of how many she's had but it doesn't matter, she doesn't want to think about counting drinks, or anything else right now. She's exactly where she wants to be.
At the start of the night it's fine, she's not in a good mood but she's an actress, she can smile and flirt and strike up conversations with pretty people at the various bars she's visiting. She's dressed up, a hint of makeup, loose pleated trousers and a ruffled shirt, a bright red haori. She's charming, attentive, flirtatious with a flutter of eyelashes and a flash of sharp teeth in a laugh.
Later, she can't be bothered. She'll watch, make a decision, gesture at a stranger to get them to come over. If they aren't expecting to be forcefully kissed by a slightly disheveled stranger with smudged lipstick, maybe they should learn to read the room better.
Later still, or early the next morning (it doesn't matter, those hours after midnight aren't important) she's slumped on the counter of a bar, toying with a cup of something-or-other. Her red hair is pulled loose from what must have been a careful updo at some point earlier, her blouse isn't quite buttoned correctly, and she's frowning at her drink.]
no subject
[Genbu swallows a little as this drunk woman buries her face in his chest. Not sure what to say, Genbu tights his hold around her in a hug of sorts, as he is wont to do in such a situation. If words ever failed him, his tree trunk arms sure didn't.]
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no subject
Heh, I've been told that once or twice.
...
So yer beaux is that uuuhhh...Fukuda fella, yeah? Didn't ya say you two came here through some...dimension?
no subject
no subject
[A pause.]
Maybe it's temporary? Side effect of yer brain passin' through dimensions and all that? I know I experienced some wacky effects when I came here!
no subject
He doesn't need more brain damage. More brain damage would kill him.
no subject
[By the Twelve, Genbu, SHUT UP]
A-anyroad...
[Approaching a bench, Genbu gently sets the woman down, before sitting next to her. He lets out a sigh of relief. Feels good to sit!]
no subject
He's very brain damaged.
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[Genbu turns a little red at the strange woman's little lean. He smiles.]
... name's Genbu. Ya feelin' okay?
no subject
It's a good name. It has a good sound to it.
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How about yerself? I remember yer video, but I don't think ya ever shared yer name!
no subject