Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
"Don't fink it's really a case of 'wanted to' so much as 'ad to," Trevor explained, a small smirk playing at his lips. He struggled out of the blanket and started patting himself down, searching for a cigarette.
Rolling off the couch, he hopped in place as he attempted to untangle his feet from the blanket. "Shit," he laughed, "I've ever...never done that. 'Aven't 'ad a boss though." Once he was totally free of the blanket, Trevor stood up straight and looked around, forgetting why he had stood in the first place. He scooped up his mug to sip coffee as he tried to figure out his new vertical position in the world. "There's worse things to do. You aren't fired, right?"