InsaneJournal

Sirius padded out from the kitchen, still dressed stubbornly in his 'The Clash' t-shirt and his old 'lucky' boxers (the ones with the bones on them). It was an outfit which Rose had seen him dressed in several times before. Only it wasn't the same now, because today he was a few inches shorter and quite a bit thinner. He also did not have the right anatomy to fill a pair of boxers, but exactly the right anatomy to stretch his shirt. Which was annoying. In his hands a lit cigarette dangled, along with a bottle of vodka that he held out to the blonde girl sat on the sofa. Because some things never change.

"Stop laughing," he told her, slinging his new body down on the other end of the sofa and squirming uncomfortably, a disgruntled expression splashed across his (her?) face. "This is a fucking nightmare. How can you stand it?" He groaned, taking a final drag on the cigarette before leaning forward to stub it out in the overflowing ashtray. The flat was slowly going back to its usual (disgusting) state after Pete's attempt at tidying, but there were very few patches of bare carpet remaining. So it wasn't all bad.

"Honestly," the animagus grumbled. "If I don't wake up tomorrow with a cock I'm definitely killing myself."