InsaneJournal

Who: Sungmin Jang and Locke Cole
When: Wednesday evening
Where: Gramercy Park Hotel, Manhattan
What: Drinks, drinks, drinks - boys' version? XD
Rating/status: TBD

Sungmin was, he felt, a pretty smart guy. Overall, at least. He did well in school, he was doing well overseas - had been doing well - and it hadn't taken him long to figure out that the New York he'd landed in wasn't the one he'd been aiming for. After an initial period of panicking and frantically trying to call his parents, who were probably infants at the oldest (and how weird was that to think about?), he'd decided to try and ride this out. Stranger things had happened to people, right?

Right?

Well, maybe not, Sungmin told his beer. He'd thought all of the shit that had gone down with his family had been pretty strange - he'd never have thought his grandfather capable of murder, even indirectly, or that his mother would ever pull a gun on anyone - but he almost missed it now. Just in case this was punishment for his lack of filial piety, he swore to God every night that he'd forgive his father and go home to make amends right away.

Since God didn't seem to be listening, Sungmin also swore the same thing to alcohol, which seemed to respond much more quickly.

He'd learned fairly quickly to stick to hotel bars. He was even more out of place here than he had been in the 21st century, but at least at a hotel, the other patrons assumed that he was just a traveler: a wealthy tourist perhaps, or maybe the son of a diplomat - which was nearly true. At places like these, with their muted lighting and discrete bartenders, he could wallow in peace. He was going to have to start cutting back, though. His money was running low, and while he could occasionally win himself some free drinks (probably through the novelty of a drunk foreigner with horrible English), this wasn't a sustainable lifestyle if he didn't want to live on the streets.

And that was just unfathomable.

He'd been trying to save money, sort of. He spent his days looking for jobs, but the time period seemed to be against him. Or maybe it was his English ability again. Or maybe it was the way he still balked at doing certain menial tasks, even for money. He'd have to get over that soon.

Tomorrow sounded good.

Tonight... tonight, he'd just nurse this beer for as long as he could so he'd have enough money to have a place to sleep for the next night, even if he really just wanted to down a few shots of soju to put his head into a nice fuzzy place where he wasn't trapped in a strange city in a strange time period.

Sigh.