Seamus Finnigan (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} openbottle) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Seamus stepped forward and squeezed Dean in a birthday hug. Probably the fourth or fifth of the day, but who was counting? "Mmhmm," he lilted. "You love me, that's what it means."
He nodded seriously as he started to head for the door, dragging Dean with him. The sooner they tackled the stairs, the sooner they could collapse onto the bed (or, for Seamus, the couch). "I'll get fancy hats for next time," he promised. "Or I'll just transfigure something." They gained the narrow staircase, Seamus pausing just before they pushed through the wards to his own flat to ward the building in general. He might have had to make two attempts at the complicated magic that kept everything safe, but that didn't mean he was drunk.
He sniggered at Dean's attempts to comprehend and grabbed Dean's hands. "Stop that. You look daft. Up you go. I'll follow. Catch you if you fall and all that." He waited for Dean to go ahead, then tried a more comprehensible explanation. "Drumming on regular drums. Not steel drums, I don't think. Those big -" He made a motion for 'cylindrical' with his hands. "You know? And they put paint on the top, and you hit the drum and the paint goes everywhere." He mimed paint splattering, even though Dean was ahead of him now and couldn't see. "It looked fun."