Flint (pollux_flint) wrote in oblivion_rp, @ 2010-02-20 01:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-12-28, danny, flint |
Who: Danny and Flint
When: after 3AM, December 28th 2009
Where: Flint's room: F Deck - 6270 - Soteria
What: What do you do with a drunken sailor photojournalist?
The power came on -- with a vengeance, he would think later -- and Flint woke up. When he'd stumbled into his room in the midst of a ship-wide blackout, he didn't think to make sure all the light switches were in the 'off' position. No, he was far too busy struggling out of wet clothing after his unplanned... swim. The normally meticulous Flint had thrown everything in a heap on the floor, tossed the ruined book angrily into a corner, pulled on something to sleep in and just crashed into bed.
When the bright lights all-too-cheerfully woke him, he hadn't been asleep long but he knew once he fell out of bed and clawed at the wall to turn everything off... well, that was it. He was awake. After a half-hour of tossing and turning in clear denial of this fact, Flint gave up and he snapped on the bedside lamp, the mosaic shade casting soft colors on the wall.
His leg ached and all he could smell was chlorine. Served him right. If he hadn't just stalked off to bed, if he'd paused to think about the power outage and the book and his clothes, if he'd just taken a deep breath and a shower then, he could still be asleep now. No such luck. Best to proceed.
He'd just finished a long blisteringly hot shower and had wrapped a towel around his waist when he heard something that didn't fit in with a cruise ship in the early hours of morning. Not these early hours, anyway. This wasn't a sound like another shower running or the mechanics of a huge ship propelling its way through the ocean -- in fact, he'd been surprised by how quiet things could be. No, this was easily qualified as noise and when he figured out where it was coming from, he decided to go look.
Clearly, the lesson of thinking first was not sinking in for the tired introvert. He walked to the entry of his stateroom clad only in the white towel, grey hair mussed and dripping. And, against his usual better judgment, Flint opened the door.