Alana C. Banks (notallwhowander) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2017-08-18 18:41:00 |
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Lana was no stranger to couches. She was, however, a stranger to cold, and her bare ass being frozen. More asleep than awake, she tried to tug the thin fabric over her rear end, and succeeded not at all. Shifting against the couch, she lifted her arm to grope along the back of the couch, feeling for a blanket. All things considered, people usually had the air on because it was usually hot out - even in December - and if she was couch surfing, they usually gave her a blanket. But they also usually didn't give her some backless, thin thing. Groaning, Lana buried her face against the couch cushion, abandoning her blanket quest. Come to that, whose couch was it? The weather had been reasonable, and she'd planned to stay outside again - there was a little covered bridge thing that was usually pretty quiet at night - so why was she on a couch? Whose couch? Opening her eyes, she pushed herself up slowly and blinked a few times. It was dark, though there must've been a light on somewhere because she could see shapes. A table. Another couch. Some chairs. Wow. Whose house was this, really? Lana made some effort to get off the couch, and it was about then she noticed she was tied to something. In the dim light, she followed the line of the IV line up to the bag on the stand. "Are you keeping me alive?" She whispered to it. Probably. Wasn't that was those things did? Keep people alive? Wait. Was she dying? Oh man. Maybe she was. Reaching again behind her, this time she felt along the small of her back but ... no, no holes to extract kidneys. No real pain either, except for the little prickly at the back of her neck, and the dizziness from - she guessed - moving too fast. "Fuck," she said quietly as she sat on the edge of the couch. So she was still cold, mostly naked, possibly dying, and she had no idea whose couch she was crashing on. Seemed kind of par for the course, really, and that thought startled a laugh out of her. The sound was obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room though, and that only made it funnier. Clapping her hands over her mouth, she felt the IV line smack her cheek, and she snorted into her hands. What the hell even? It probably wasn't funny. She should probably actually be be really fucking concerned. But right now, everything was kind of funny to her. Who did this? Where was she? "Come on, skinny man," she said to the IV hanger. "We're going to go find out where we are. Or at least whose house this is." She could do that at least, right? Managing to find her feet, Lana squinted as she stood up, looking around the dim room curiously before she reached out to hook her IV'd arm around the pole of the stand, heading in the better lit direction. She was shortly rewarded with a kitchen, and she nodded. "Breakfast, skinny man?" She asked the IV stand. Could she have breakfast? She had to assume she'd been invited here, and whoever had invited her was probably okay with her eating their food, right? "Or clothes," she said as she tilted her head. Maybe clothes? No one wanted to see her skinny ass, she was pretty sure. But where were clothes? Where were her clothes? Were there borrowable clothes? She'd seen stairs, but without actually knowing whose house this was, she wasn't real keen on poking into bedrooms. Still, exploration of the kitchen brought her eventually to the utility room, and that had clothes in boxes. Finding a pair of sweats that fit her at least solved the bare ass situation, though without removing the needle from her arm, she was going to have problems changing tops. Still, everything was covered, so ... breakfast. With an arm still hooked around the IV stand, she moved back toward the cabinets, rifling through them for something she could eat without cooking. Finding some Pop-Tarts, she took a packet of them and settled down at the table, unwrapping her breakfast even as she looked curiously around the place. |