Who: Su Li and Anthony Goldstein What: Some talking and complaining, and Su's hidden bottle of scotch whisky. Where: Su and Anthony's apartment, in Su's room. When: Evening, after this and this. Rating/Status: PG-13 for possible language and slander? Closed.
It wasn't often that Su indulged in things like naps. She often felt much too busy, and even when she knew she wasn't, she had a talent for finding some way of effectively busying herself. The idea of sleeping in the middle of the day felt somehow blasphemous to Su. Today, however, somehow seemed a different case. When it came right down to it, this weekend had been exhausting. Between the auction at Underground, and a visit with her family all day on Saturday, Su had had a difficult time getting out of bed that morning. Still, she had managed to make it through a busy day of grocery shopping and errands. By the time she made it home, though, her eyelids were feeling heavy and she didn't think she would have the energy to bother with a failed attempt to cook herself some dinner.
Instead, she'd given into temptation after all - after changing into something much more conducive to an early-evening nap, Su had hopped into bed and was just about to doze off when she heard a familiar sound. Pansy the Pug had found her way into the bedroom and was sitting resolutely near the foot of the bed, whining and barking to be lifted up. Su grumbled and tried throwing a pillow at the dog, but it missed and Pansy only carried on. Eventually Su had grabbed the dog and tossed her onto the bed, where she had fallen quickly asleep, snoring and twitching with some sort of canine dream.
For her part, Su was now thoroughly awake again, the plan to nap having utterly failed. The journal, at least, had provided some sort of distraction. But Anthony seemed to be having a difficult time dealing with the latest drama generated from the Parkinson-Corner dilemma, and to be quite frank it was something Su never grew tired of complaining about. After writing Anthony an invite to join her - completely ignoring, as they always did, the fact that it would have been much easier just to open the door and have a normal conversation - she tossed the journal aside and rolled over to open a drawer on the bedside table. As she was extracting a mostly-full bottle of scotch, Su her the door creak open more and smirked at her flatmate.
"Look what I've found," she said, waving the bottle triumphantly. "We won't have to wait til Tuesday to get pissed and complain bout bad friends after all."