text;

[rudeandginger]

For anyone who needed me-





I'LL BE AT THE BAR











[ooc: Turlough maybe be starting to become a familiar freckly face at the shadier bars in town, above ground and under. Please do come find him/judge his life choices.]

Comments

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[minigolfandsushi]

[Peter is sulking with a drink at some seedy bar.

Why is he sulking? Who knows. But he's sulking. And drunk.

So really, nothing new.]

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[rudeandginger]

[Turlough's night is still young, nursing his first drink as he slides in next to Peter at the bar, not saying anything just yet.]

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[minigolfandsushi]

'Ello Gingah.

[He shouldn't have said that. He remembers Ginger's bloody corpse, sprawled across the floor, her face frozen in fear. That had been the worst part -- her face. She should have been angry; she should have been cursing him to high heaven. He could deal with her anger and her hatred, but her fear ate away at his insides.

He guzzles down the last of his drink and signals the bartender for another.]

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[rudeandginger]

You looked like someone walked over your grave for a minute. I didn't come here to hang out with miserable sods, you know.

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[minigolfandsushi]

[Peter ignores the jibe about his feelings. Bitch don't talk about his feelings.]

Came here to get fucked then?

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[rudeandginger]

[Turlough downs the rest of his drink before he turns around, giving Peter an obvious once-over.]

It's certainly possible. Why, is that an offer?

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[minigolfandsushi]

Mostly a statement of fact. People go to bars for two reasons: to be miserable or to get fucked.

[Peter leans waaaaaaaaaaaaay into Turlough's personal space and checks him out.]

But if you're game...

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[rudeandginger]

[Oh please. Invading personal space is his specialty.]

It's a rare occasion when I'm not game.

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[minigolfandsushi]

That so.

Well then. [He quickly downs the entirety of his new drink.] How do you like to play this game, eh?

[eyebrow waggle]

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[rudeandginger]

There's a loo behind the dance area. Or the booths have curtains.

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[minigolfandsushi]

Kinky. Let's go with a booth.

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[rudeandginger]

Alright.

[Turlough downs the rest of his drink and strolls casually over to the nearest booth.]

You know you look a lot like a friend of mine.

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[minigolfandsushi]

You're friends with the Doctor?

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[rudeandginger]

I traveled with him. Another version of him.

[He loosens his tie a fraction and slides into one of the velvet-lined booths near the back wall. They have something better to do than talk about old friends, don't they?]

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[minigolfandsushi]

Oh good. For a second I thought this was gonna get awkward.

[Small talk, sweet talk, who cares? He reaches out to rub Turlough's crotch.]

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[rudeandginger]

[Oh, excellent. He likes forward. Turlough clambers onto his lap, using more strength than his skinny frame would suggest to pin his shoulders back against the booth wall.]

I don't do awkward.

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[minigolfandsushi]

[Peter arches an eyebrow.]

Sex in a bar booth doesn't count as awkward?

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[rudeandginger]

It's not awkward for me.

[He grinds down into his lap a little more.]

And it doesn't feel like it is for you either.

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[minigolfandsushi]

[Peter lets a happy little groan and grabs Turlough's non-existent hips.]

Good point.

[That said, he leans forward to nibble on Turlough's collarbone.]