It's been a long time since we rock and rolled [complete] Who: Molotov (molotov_coqtiz) and Brock (brock_samson) What: Molotov has no more cigarettes or food, and Brock has a headache. When: After this thread~ Where: Molotov's room Warnings: Possibly some makeouts (fingers crossed!), maybe some stabbin'.
Brock had never been in the other wing of this godforsaken building before.
It was pretty much the same as the wing he lived in, everything bright and pristine, smelling of fresh paint and the distinct, complete absence of dust. He really didn't know if there were maids or if it was part of the 'magic' or whatever of this stupid place, but he really wished that it would clean his room as well; he was getting tired of keeping everything neat and tidy in a place in which he didn't even plan on sticking around for very long anyway. It reminded him too much of home.
After going up the elevator to the nineteenth floor (which he was a little nervous about; Molotov had the tendency to kick him out of windows, and that was a long drop), Brock rubbed the back of his neck somewhat nervously -- though he didn't know why -- and went over to the room in which Molotov told him she was living. Keeping his muscles coiled, ready to leap out of the way or grab for his knife, in case she was going to attack him or had hidden a dinosaur in the room or something, Brock knocked on the door to room 1917 B with the back of his hand, the other hand gripping a carton of cigarettes.