Bailey Kinlan (soldierofsass) wrote in reality_dome, @ 2014-04-24 21:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | bailey kinlan, tristan moore |
Scaly Welcome
Characters: Bailey, Tristan
When: Wednesday, 10am
Location:Cabin 5
Warnings/Rating: Lizards. Snakes. Rated: scaly with some mild expletives.
Summary: Bailey is doomed to wake up with quite a hangover and only some new scaly friends to take his mind off that headache.
Status: Complete
His face was damp.
Before he even got around to opening his eyes, that was the first thing Bailey noticed. He also had the feeling that he was incredibly late for work and had had more drinks at the bar last night than he generally allowed himself the displeasure of. To make matters worse, the pressure behind his eyes and the gentle buzzing feeling in his brain were promising to turn violent at any sudden movements. Bailey wanted to groan, but he was afraid that would alert his body that he'd regained consciousness and needed to be punished.
Gingerly, still refusing to open his eyes, Bailey shoved the heel of his hand across the corner of his mouth, wiping away the drool that had pooled there in his sleep.
This was promising to be one hell of a morning. He didn't even want to guess how many calls from his boss he'd slept through already.
Blinking a few times, but still not quite getting the hang of focusing, Bailey flailed one arm out blindly, trying to grab his lamp. He snatched for where it approximately should have been, then swore sharply as his hand hit the edge of the nightstand.
Bailey stopped flailing. His nightstand was round. This wasn't right. And there was sunlight streaming into the room where his curtains should have been literally stapled to the walls to prevent that damned Florida sun from invading his life. No stapled curtains. No Florida.
He'd signed a contract, hadn't he?
Bailey groaned in earnest this time, pressing a hand to his forehead as he slowly, carefully sat up. He needed a glass of water. He felt like hell. Poking around for what little he remembered bringing with him and looking around was going to have to wait. First step: hydration. Next step: coming up with a strategy for walking off this show a rich man. And possibly orienting himself.
In retrospect, he felt that the strategizing should have come before contracting, but that glass of water was calling his name too loudly for regrets to assault him just yet.
Bailey padded halfway to the door before he saw the flash of green in the corner of his eye. He froze, moving just his eyes to try to see what it was and where it had gone. Even without catching sight of it, he knew what it was. You didn't live in Florida without getting a second sense when it came to knowing when there was a reptile around. Every summer Bailey had accidentally squashed more than a few in the door, and it seemed like every other day he had to brush one of the damned things off his shoulder. He was used to them whether he liked it or not.
Or he had been. The more he thought about them, the tighter that knot in his stomach pulled.
A rustle made him spin to look at the floor lamp in the room. The sun was hitting it just right to make it the perfect warming area for lizards. Five lizards.
Without warning, one of them inflated that bit of skin at its throat that had always creeped Bailey out the slightest bit anyway.
"Shit."
Bailey took a step back, glancing around quickly to make certain he didn't step on one as he continued a low string of, "Shitshitshitshit."
The door. He just needed to get out of this room.
Bailey lunged for it, forgetting about the fragile state of his brains at the moment and ignoring how his stomach lurched nauseatingly. He tugged it open, slinging himself into the living area and pulling the door shut sharply behind him. He stayed pressed against the door, wide-eyed as he waited for his heart rate to slow down.
"Shit," he said again, just for good measure.