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Author Topic: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]  (Read 800 times)

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Offline nephero

Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« on: September 27, 2017, 02:00:08 am »
There were plenty things in this world that Yavul was willing to do for free beer. It wasn't like he needed free beer; he had plenty of spending money, he could have easily gone out and gotten a case of the most divine microbrew available. But there was just something, something about "free" that made the beer taste all that much more satisfying.

Which was exactly why he was presently slapping the contents of what had to be the fourth tub of grey mud onto Commander Grisham Alberich, with special care in an even and thorough application. It was hard to tell that it even was Grisham underneath it all-- so thick was the mud, you couldn't even tell the color of the man's hair. Why they had felt the need to apply a tub to Grisham's head was a question best reserved for philosophers, because they just did and it was a little late to reconsider that particular choice.

Not even caring that his hands were coated in mud-- thick and chalky-smelling but absolute heaven on a particularly hot day-- Yavul reached for one not-bet-related beer and popped the top, slurping down the bubbly fluid in a solid gulp.

"All right," he said, with a little satisfied sigh as the beer hit his belly in the best way, "I think you're about as slick as you're gonna get. Tell you what, get a couple pictures an' hock 'em as bein' some kinda Hugetoe cryptid nonsense-- like 'the West Side Mudslide Man'."

The Solartan Pilot waved his free hand, likely dribbling mud all over his floor in the process, as it to pantomime reading the title off some massive billboard or marquee. If nothing else, the mental image was amusing, and he snickered a bit even as he moved forward to help keep his fellow Pilot friend steady as they made their way to the door.

It absolutely would not do to finish off their Laborer's Day weekend with Grisham slipping and cracking his head open on a coffee table or something equally chump-y. What an end to a long and outstanding career-- done in by idiocy and imbalance. Yavul took another long gulp of beer, setting the nearly empty can down on the nearest surface as they shimmied on by.

The two Pilots had, after some small deliberation, decided that the best place to test this theory of "how far down a hallway would a grown man covered in mud slide?" was in the main walkway that made up the Royal Floor. It was large, spacious, and if you rolled the decorative runner to the side, the floor was perfectly smooth. Little to no friction, which made for a much better prospect in terms of slippery escapades.

Yavul absolutely intended to win himself some beer. Not that he genuinely remembered what the exact parameters of the bed were. Something about hitting a far wall, but he'd been dipping hard into his original stash of alcohol ever since they'd started to slather Grisham up. He'd said something cocky about making room in his fridge for the imminent beer Grisham would be buying him, though a smaller, more honest portion of himself might have admitted his drinking was to create an alibi for the pinkness of his cheeks.

He wasn't in the mood to be honest, so making room in his fridge was the excuse he decided to stick to. It'd been an awesome couple of days, grilling and doing bug-murders, stuffing their faces and creating rickety towers of empty cans. Or, at least, Yavul's had been rickety. Goddamn superscience bastard and his comprehension of structural engineering.

Goddamn math.

"Okay," Yavul said after rolling the hall runner up against the wall. It'd be awkward as hell to anyone coming out of their quarters on that side, but Yavul was also sure no one sane was up at that hour to be bothered by their hijinks, anyway. "West Side Mudslide Man, take one! An' for the record, I like my brews wheat-y."

Offline Lion

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #1 on: September 28, 2017, 03:03:04 am »
Laborer's Day Weekend meant Grisham could get away with a lot of things. More importantly not being in Adstreia meant that he didn't need to worry too much about PR getting wind of shenanigans that'd go about bugging him for the rest of the week. HA! Bugs. Giant pinchy bugs that they'd slaughtered and turned into righteous delicious steaks.

Okay technically it was an arachnid. And a right fucking dangerous one at that. If they weren't hunting as a team no doubt one of them would have gotten seriously hurt. One of them of them probably wouldn't have made it back. That was a thought that Grisham didn't want to entertain. He had enough of bad thoughts to go around for everyone.

He had his marbles just in case. But for now, he was kind of hoping it wasn't going to come to that.

Yavul had delivered on his promise, and made bomb as fuck scorpion steaks, cooking it in a way that made even Grim's mouth water. There was so much steak to go around, no doubt that's all the Valkyries would be eating for daaaays. And because he liked them so much he went ahead and motorboated Yavul's tits anyway, just for being a good sport. It was all lining up to be one hell of a legendary weekend. Yup, that was it, that was the only word that could describe it.

But right now, he had another mission on his mind - a hundred credits and a case of beer were on the line. He had one goal, to make it down the hallway in one slick motion without any stutter and victory would be his. It wasn't the sum of credits - for it was paltry at best - but it was the principal of the matter. He was coated head to toe with all manner of mud, sure he was in his underwear, and chafing down there wasn't something he wanted at all to entertain.

So now as he stood in the middle of that Royal level hallway, with the carpet rolled away and he cackled at Yavul's quip. "Take a picture while you can! I'm getting pale ales! And that hundred credits is mine!"

Grisham took a long step back, admiring the stretch of that hallway first and foremost, examining the slick construction that had gone into making the wood. It'd take a lot of speed and velocity to make it to the end of that stretch. There were lots of potted plants nicely tapered to the corners, often next to doors and they made variation in the overall slickness of the floor.

It was a straight shot from here. Grisham took a knee and dug his unmuddied toes into the polished flooring, bowed down into a track runner's stance and with a powerful push sprinted forward until just before he passed Yavul's doorway.

To the end of the hallway, he could make it!

Grisham was flying forward on his belly, gliding across the ground what with all the mud on him, that was promptly being scraped off with every yard he was gaining. So close now!  And just when he thought he was running out of mud on his front, he twisted around get at the mud on his back. The movement had been calculated with excellent precision.

That was until an unknown potted plant with aloe vera leaves the size of gorilla hands decided to pop out from nowhere! (That's the story, and he was sticking with it).

Grisham stuck his arms out, to push him away before his skull collided with that pot. His hands left muddy prints along the clean walls, but the subsequent ricochet sent him colliding into another one and he made a yelp when his big toe smashed into the pot.

And no more than a foot from the end of that hallway.

"SHIT!" he hissed. Because losing the bet clearly was more important than whether or not his toe was broken.

Offline nephero

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #2 on: October 05, 2017, 09:23:29 pm »
There was nothing, absolutely nothing, better than fresh grilled scorpion seared in pepper and with gobs of butter melted overtop. Well, almost nothing. The temporary adventure in large-scale extermination had been invigorating, just the trill needed to get the blood pumping, and the veritable feast afterward had been a hell of a reward for their hard work. But really, at the end of the night, Yavul just loved the loudness of it.

A whole group of people, all gathered together for dinner and fun and beers, goofing off and leaving everything else behind if only for a second-- it felt suspiciously like family. And so, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, it made him downright glad that Grisham had decided to crash at his place for the weekend. Partially because Yavul wasn't quite sure how he'd feel about going from raucous camaraderie to an empty apartment, but also quite distinctly because Grisham was quite possibly the most fun person Yavvy'd known in a long time. Fun, and way goofier than he'd probably ever admit.

He couldn't even be mad about the motorboating; he'd just thrown his head back and cackled with the rest, which inevitably led to a howl as was squadron tradition. So yeah, Yavul was exceptionally glad that Grisham and he had taken their shenanigans on the road-- or, in this case, out into the hallway.

Shenanigans that must, of course, be recorded. For posterity! It was a momentous... er. Moment? (wow, the beer was catching up to him) that they were embarking upon here, science was being done, and they might have need of video evidence in case of a dispute upon their findings.

Getting Mr. Dynamo on video in nothing but his underwear and skidding down a hallway had nothing to do with it.

"Shaw on you an' your pale ales!" Yavul crowed back, standing just to the side with his com up to better capture the entire event in all it's glory. "Though if you wanna buy yourself a six pack while gettin' mine, I ain't fault you your terrible taste."

Yavul was almost-- almost-- worried when it looked like Grisham was really concentrating. Because something was slowly dawning on the Commander of the Solarta Valkyries. Something that he'd almost forgotten, but now crashed down upon him in a wave of dread as of yet unknown by mortal men.

Grisham Alberich could do math.

God. Damn. Math!

Yavul took in a deep breath, watching as the decorated Pilot flew forward, onto his belly, down the hall and--

Right into a potted plant outside of one of his neighbour's door. Yavul stifled a guffaw, immediately rushing forward as Grisham cussed, low enough to not disturb anyone but certainly not low enough to go unnoticed by a man who'd just witnessed him wipe out in the mightiest fashion. Still stifling laughter, Yavul crouched down, not even worried about the mud on his hands as he helped Grisham sit up with just a little more dignity.

"Aw, shit, you okay?" He asked, hopefully with a convincing amount of Concern™ so as to not warrant suspicion. "You didn't bust one'a your hips or nothin'? I hear brittle bones is a right danger for men your age."

Okay, maybe not the best time to start quipping, just in case the other Pilot did actually crack something. Though, Yavul was pretty sure if that were the case, there'd be a lot more cussing taking place. It didn't look bent out of shape, but that didn't mean it didn't sting like a bitch, and so with only minimal slipping on the residual mud trail, Yavvy ducked back into his apartment for a fresh, and thus, ice-cold beer.

He handed the can over to the other man, before lowering himself to sit cross legged beside him. Licked his lips a bit as if considering his next words very carefully. And then shot Grisham a wide grin, complete with baby-blue mischief.

"There's an urgent care next to a liquor store not too far off."

Offline Lion

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #3 on: October 07, 2017, 03:12:35 am »
Did anyone with half a brain ever plan on getting hurt? Unless they were some godawful glutton for punishment, Grisham wagered probably not. Then again few folk probably thought it was a wise decision to coat your body in about four buckets of mud of bellyslide down a hallway for a bet of little more than a hundred credits and a case of beer.

And recording that shit for that matter. Grisham had vaguely realized somewhere that Yavul probably was gonna do that, for posterity and to laugh at it whenever he had the chance. That was all fine and good, because the guy deserved to have a good whooping laugh now and again. Sieg had to sleep some time, and Grisham really was glad to see the guy smile. Even if it was at his own expense.

Grisham's toe, however, seemed to have other ideas. Throbbing more out of self-indignation rather than any consideration that he was hurt. Besides...the thought of going to a Solartan hospital, even if it was an urgent care clinic, was not something he wanted to spend the rest of the weekend doing.

He'd rather trust a lettuce chopper at the JJs down the street bandage and ice his toe than go to a hosptial. Woof.

So when Yavul sat down in front of him, criss-cross apple sauce style as he do, Grisham tilted his head and gave the old Coyote Man a sly sneer. "Oh you think I stub a toe and I'm down for the count do you? Takes more than that to keep me down," he hissed and settled down to better sit against the wall. He felt his toe throb and he couldn't really move it, but for the most part nothing felt out of place. It was nothing an ice pack couldn't fix and maybe some compression.

Grisham had accepted the beer and he took a good long sip of it, knocking his head back and then tucking his foot into crook of his knee, pressing the cold can on the toe. "You really ought to get the bottled stuff. Glass holds the cold longer and the beer tastes less like piss," he grumbled, the indignation leaving.

A snort bellowed out and he stifled it with a grin. "Well, I wiped out pretty bad. Okay then. I'm a man of my word, you rat bastard," he chuckled. "A hundred credits and your six pack. If you help me up, we'll head down to that liquor store together. And I ain't going to urgent care. I just need some ice on it."

Setting the can down, between them he reached out with his empty hand and wrapped long fingers around Yavul's wrist. "One. Hundred. Rat Bastard. Credits," he murmured as he activated his chip against the other man's. His free hand reached for the beer again and took a sip. Grisham pushed himself up against the wall until he was on his feet.

"I don't have like weird floor burns against my stomach do I?" And stretched his torso out with his arms above his head.

Offline nephero

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #4 on: October 08, 2017, 05:15:42 pm »
Oh, man, oh man, but that video was going to be a treasure for the ages. He'd have to transfer it to his computer as soon as possible, keep it in his personal file directory simply labeled "rainy day lulz". And watch the ever-loving crap out of it while drinking his freshly won beer.

Still, though, his victory was only partially marred by the fact Grisham had gotten winged in the process, even if the stubborn old bastard was busy posturing about how it'd take more than that to keep him from being a stubborn old bastard. Which was a relief in its own way; a grumbling Grisham was, ironically, a happy Grisham. Or at least, not a catastrophically injured Grisham.

Uninjured enough to flash him a downright adorable sneer for Yav's efforts. And then critiqued his beer-cannister choices. Rolling his eyes near straight out of his skull, he snorted as they sat there, already fiddling with his com to make sure that video stayed nice and secure. That was for his eyes only, after all.

"I don't usually linger too much on a bottle like an octagenarian in diapers for it to much matter how long it stays cold," he sniped back, all in jest but nose wrinkled all the same. "But I'm sure with your generous donation, I can see swingin' for some quality glass."

And speaking of 'donation'...

Yavul's mouth curved wide, baring his teeth in a huge, shit-eating grin as Grisham spoke, their wrists pressed together just long enough for the deposit to be made. And just a little bit longer, considering Yavul was not in too terribly a hurry to break away. Well, not until he got the chance to grab up that can and steal a solid swig, though that stolen swallow was nearly coughed right up in a cackling laugh.

"An' here I thought that were just your shame." He said, prodding at Grisham's pinked and decidedly mud-free stomach. Damn, that must've stung all on its own; the floor was smooth enough to the touch but friction was a test bitch that way. Deciding to have a little mercy, Yav hummed, stepped forward, and tucked the rapidly depleting beer can into the waistband of the other Commander's underwear so it would better sit against his abs.

"There you go. Greyneck first aid."

Beer was a wonderful thing; pain killer, sleep aid, ice pack. There was nothing in this world a cold can couldn't do.

Offline Lion

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #5 on: October 09, 2017, 12:17:28 am »
Pffft. Lingering on the bottle wasn't the point, but the sheer admission he'd rather just down it all rather than linger on the taste of it said volumes. Mostly that he'd just want volumes and volumes of beer. Grisham could get behind that. He'd never been much of a beer drinker himself, but since they were heading down to the liquor store anyway, he could pick himself up a bottle of brandy and a case for himself.

A bet was a bet. And he was a man of his word.

He...oh...  Heh.

That can went right into the waistband and he glanced between that and Yavul, one brow cocked up. His cheeks were well-cooled with caked on bits of mud and small beads of sweat that crawled into crevices between the patches. Grisham tried his best to keep a straight face until he abruptly threw his head back in laughter and reached forward to pull Yavul under his right arm, hugging him close.

"Look at you, Yavul, just full of great ideas. First the mud, then the can to soothe an old man's bruised ego," he snorted and hooked his arm loosely around his neck. Grisham was content to let the can cool the vaguely floor-burned skin of his abdomen.  Enough standing around there being dumbasses, they had beer to collect.

"They won't question it if we go down to the liquor store while I'm in my underoos. Of course they won't," he said with a firm nod. "Just let me get my boots on." Flip flops weren't his thing, but that was just an excuse to ignore the fact that Grisham had both forgotten his dragon and suitable footwear for this hot ripe dome that just smelled like swamp ass everywhere.

Except Yavul's apartment. It smelled great and Grisham would have notified him immediately if there was anything that was remotely unpleasant. As it so happened, he was having a bloody great time. Scorpion steaks and all.

Once the boots were on, Grisham took two fresh cool cans from Yavul's fridge and tucked it into the waistband of his underwear and slipped out the old one, taking a swig of it. He pointed to the cans, indicating each one, "One for you, and one for the road," he nodded, raising the can and slipping his free arm back around Yavul once again.

"Come on Coyote Man, you gotta pick out your six pack!" Grisham smiled wily, dragging Yavul along with him.
« Last Edit: October 09, 2017, 12:31:09 am by Lion »

Offline nephero

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #6 on: October 19, 2017, 05:35:12 pm »
Yavul scratched at the side of his face, snickering quietly to himself as he did so. He let the other Pilot bring him into that muddy side-hug, not even minding where the grey clay clung to the fabric of his shirt. It’d wash off, after all-- which reminded him…

Shifting out from under Grisham’s arm and whistling an innocent little ditty along the way, Yavul went over to the side of the hall to roll the carpet runner back into place, covering most of the muddy trail of mischief and tucking it safely out of sight.

“I been known to have my moments,” he said with a crooked grin. “I'll just mop this up when we get back, it'll be fiiine.”

At least no one would be slipping and breaking their necks or anything. Which was always super helpful. It also may have had something to do with not wanting to miss a single moment of Grisham marching down the Solartan streets in nothing but boxers, boots and dirt. It was too good to pass up for the sake of housekeeping.

Quirking an eyebrow and trying very hard not to laugh too loudly, Yavul reached over, cracked the top of one can and then pulled it from Grisham's waistband.

Swallowing the froth that foamed at the top, he pointed down the hallway to where the elevators awaited them like silent sentinels.

“Forward unto dawn! Aaaan’ left, left…”

Snickering even into his second swig, Yavul let himself be pulled along, arm draped across the other man's messy shoulders to better lead him to their promised land of alcoholic delights.

“Should turn this into a sport. Like spray down a tunnel or somethin’ in mud an’ see who can hit a target without goin’ over,” Yavul commented lightly as they made it out into fresh(er) air. He chanced a casual glance to the side, acting as if he were not, in fact, perfectly describing shuffleboarding with people, though the way his eyes sparked said volumes otherwise.

Offline Lion

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #7 on: October 28, 2017, 01:15:03 pm »
Grisham had washed his hands of the fact that whenever they got together for anything - even if it was hunting - maybe especially because it was hunting - that there was going to be a mess to clean up afterward. A quiet snort as he watched Yavul cover up that hallway with the carpet as if nobody would notice the residual muddy hand prints on the bottom portions of it of the potted planter with a foot print on it.

Nope not at all. Super subtle that.

Getting underway, Grisham smirked at the fact his waistband was being used as a beer holster. It was definitely cold, and made him shiver a little. Yavul was just full of great ideas wasn't he? No question about it.

"Hell goddamn yes!" Grisham resoundedly agreed, staggering only slightly out on the street because his boot hit a rock. Or something remotely rock shaped. It might have been a turtle. He didn't pay attention long enough look back at it. Another swig, and he readjusted his hold on Yavul's shoulders, using the other man to keep him steady. He wasn't drunk, far from it in fact. He was just a little jarred from the stumble.  "You shoot out the tunnel, and you lose five points. Hit the target and you gain five points. And we'll have decorative trunks, PR can make a whole fashion line out of the sport!"

He snorted, and glanced briefly to Yavul. Was it the warm air making his eyes light up or the beer? Either way the spark to them was beautiful. Grisham wanted a set of marbles just like them.

Only then did it hit him.  "Wait, you trying to make a game out of an old man sport? You saying I'm old!? Whippersnapper you!" Grisham made a mock growl and snarled at Yavul by the time they meandered near the store front and Grisham opened the door for the old coyote man. "That's a mighty heavy door there. Can't have you throwing out your back trying to open it."

But oh man the air conditioning! It was a blessing and Grisham didn't even realize that that short walk alone made him damp with sweat. He raised his arms to let the cool air grace his pits and the clerk at the counter gave him a dirty glare.

Grisham wandered over to the freezer doors where those cool six packs were chilling on the other side and he braced the glass, forgetting about the beer in his waistband as it clunked against the glass.  "Sweet sweet cold," he sighed.  A blink, oh that's right, he was supposed to be getting beers for Yavul.  "Ok, Coyote Man, pick your poison. And hell, I'll throw donuts in with bargain as well. You won fair and square."

Offline nephero

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #8 on: November 09, 2017, 07:54:50 pm »
If the street was full of stray rocks or turtles, they must have been invisible. Yavul was, luckily enough, not already too far gone to have his reaction time turn to complete shit, and so it was only with a slight delay that he realized Grisham had even stumbled at all.

"Slight" meaning "very" delayed, because his hand moved to steady Grisham long after he'd already steadied himself, a good amount of the Hellion's weight now shared between them for his efforts. Not that Yavul was complaining, even if that meant more mud transfer, and even if the hot night air felt just that much hotter. Gods both, it was really one scorcher of a week wasn't it? Blazing hot.

That or he was just that side of tipsy. Either was a good excuse, and either was what he was sticking with.

Hastily getting back on the original train of thought and praying to Luck his face didn't look as warm as it felt, Yavul licked his lips before pulling them back in a grin.

"The tunnel itself'll be mostly see-through, with like, colored rings an' such, an you wanna aim for whatever color the randomizer picks." He snorted, ducking low at the offended growl once the whole 'shuffleboard' analogy caught up to Grisham, laughing all the way out from under Grisham's arm to saunter through the storefront. His laughter didn't subside any when the other Pilot promptly raised his muddy arms, clearly cooling off in the initial jet of air conditioning without a single care in the world for appearances.

Which was absolutely hysterical, because what a sight they must have been. Grisham more so, being that it was not at all hidden that the only clothing was his boots and underwear, and while Solarta was not exactly known for its class, even that was pushing it.

Yavul liked that. No need for pomp or circumstance, just two idiots getting beers at way late o'clock.

He snorted again as Grisham all but melded with the freezer doors, snickering and shaking his head even as he walked a few sets down and pulled out his brand for the evening. And another for later. That one, at least, would be on him to pay for, and hey, the more the merrier.

"Ooooh, donuts, too? Oh, Dyna, Dyna, Dyna, you do know how t' treat a guy." He grinned at the other man, settling the two six packs in the crook of his arm even as he continued to scan the shelves. "Well shit, here I am bringin' nothin' t' this picnic. Oh--!"

Something had caught his eye. Something glorious and golden and just within peripheral view, and Yavul stepped around Grisham to grab the box up from the general grocery portion of the store. Held it aloft, and shook the box of Rinkies to better catch Grisham's attention.

"Special limited edition packaging. Le gasp, cei doub!"

Offline Lion

Re: Like some kinda greyneck slip-n-slide [Lion!]
« Reply #9 on: November 11, 2017, 01:07:30 am »
He could take losing a bet with a great deal of grace. He could take losing anything with a semblance of humility even if it meant a great deal to him. Grisham never did have a lot of dignity, it was a technicality that often kept folks from being too conservative and doing whatever the hell it was they wanted to do. Grisham did what he wanted, and right now he clearly wanted to lose and buy Yavul some goddamn beers.

It was fiiiiiine.  And he had to admit, he really wanted to get shitfaced and stuff himself full of pastries and other convenience store goodies until he puked it all up and passed out. The weekend would be over sooner than he thought, so it was better to make the most of every waking moment, he thought.  Waste not want not.

Grisham had meant to stay by Yavul, he'd meant to really. But those freezers felt so goddamn nice against his hot and boiling skin. If he couldn't crawl out of it, what the hell else was he supposed to do? Solarta was just a cess pool of recycled swamp ass farts, but the one - strike that - two good things about it were Yavul and this freezer right here.

Until -

"What?" His eyes saucered and he had to blinked three full times before he actually focused on the thing in Yavvy's hand.  "Is that what I think it is?"  Grisham couldn't stay by those freezers anymore and like a moth to a lightning lamp, he dragged his feet over and half stumbled into the other man, grabbing his wrist and holding it closer to his face.

"Yavul, they only made about 5000 of these before taking it off the market. Limited Edition Butterchocotoffeena nacinnacreme Blast. Oh my goodness. You're so awesome to find these, I could kiss you!" Grisham grinned and since Yavul had his arms full, Grishm went about taking all the limited edition Rinkies he could stuff into his arms, as well as a gratuitous box of donuts, for variety, and stacking them on the countertop.

The clerk just stared at him, eyes getting wider. "You uh, gunna eat all-a that?" he asked, ringing up each item. Grisham pursed his lips and looked over to the beer in Yavul's arms.

"I think you'd just better ring up those Rinkies, amigato."  He winked at the clerk and once that junk was paid for, he gathered it all up in a timely well formed stack. Beers on the bottom, and split each stack between the pair of them.  Eugh, he had to walk out into those hot farts again. Nevermind that, they had about 18 packs of Rinkies to get through.

They just couldn't get through those doors fast enough, and Grisham maneuvered behind Yavul to nudge his hips forward with his own, pushing him out the door, and letting it ring-ding shut.

"Just when I thought this night couldn't get any better," he snorted and preemptively started to bite the plastic at the package closest to his mouth. Nope nope. It was probably better if they waited until they got back to the apartment. "Yavul, where you get such a good eye for detail? I wouldn't have even seen those damn things. You got some of those laser-focused ocular devices. Just honing in on all sweet meats."

 

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