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Of Scotch And Fashion Footwear

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Kestrel's Apartment - This small apartment is sparsely furnished, tending more toward function rather than any real semblance of comfort or appearance. Two tiny bedrooms, if one can call them that, adjoin the main room. It actually looks as if someone simply walled off part of the original space for them, though at least it can be said that they did a halfway decent job. Instead of doors, heavy curtains in a dusty, faded dark green have been hung in both doorways. The only actual door in the place aside from the main entrance leads to a cramped bathroom. A battered card table and folding chairs sit pretty much snug up against a small kitchenette, while a workbench that's seen better days sits off in a corner. A nondescript couch that might have been orange at some point in its life occupie

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Drunk people say the darnedest things...

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2008.1

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Of Scotch And Fashion Footwear

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Kestrel's Apartment - This small apartment is sparsely furnished, tending more toward function rather than any real semblance of comfort or appearance. Two tiny bedrooms, if one can call them that, adjoin the main room. It actually looks as if someone simply walled off part of the original space for them, though at least it can be said that they did a halfway decent job. Instead of doors, heavy curtains in a dusty, faded dark green have been hung in both doorways. The only actual door in the place aside from the main entrance leads to a cramped bathroom. A battered card table and folding chairs sit pretty much snug up against a small kitchenette, while a workbench that's seen better days sits off in a corner. A nondescript couch that might have been orange at some point in its life occupies the middle of the room, with a makeshift coffee table made of cinderblocks and heavy boards in front of it. Next to the workbench, more bricks and boards make up a set of shelves. Gunfire can be heard throughout the apartment. Gunfire and lots of yelling. Yup, Kes has the holoviewer turned up way too loud, and is slumped over on the couch, one hand hanging off that contains a half-empty bottle of scotch. Her boots and jacket are in a careless pile on the floor. She's asleep, despite the racket. Hey, at least it can't be heard out in the hallway. Well, there's the familiar sound of the key turning in the lock, "Damn, got ourselves a war goin' on in 'ere," Shep states as he enters, closing and locking the door. He looks to Kes, "Even got casualties, damn." Kestrel jerks awake with a snort as a grenade goes off on-screen. "Whafu...?" she mumbles sleepily, peering muzzily at the screen. "Whozere?" It hasn't occurred to her to look at the rest of the apartment, apparently. Sleepy or drunk -- you make the call. "'S jus' Shep," the big Solan replies as he moves towards the bedroom, "Thought we lost yah after 'at last artillery strike," "...Wha?" Kes asks, finally looking toward Shep -- though she misses him by a bit since he moves away and all, and ends up looking at nothing but empty space. She blinks blearily and holds up the bottle to peer at it, squinting intently. "...Mus' be drunker'n I thought." Notably, she hasn't sat up yet. "Naw, yah jus' took a big blow ta yer 'ead, big chunka metal came crashin' down." Shep replies from the bedroom, "Yah don't 'member?" Kestrel eyes the bottle again, and shakes her head. "Bottle woulda been broke if I took shrapnel," she points out, to nobody in particular. Suddenly, she laughs. "M'fuckin' talkin' ta m'self." Laughter continues, and she flops back down limply. "Ain't shrapnel, wasa big beam type thing," Shep replies, coming out of the bedroom sans combat gear, "Must 'ave amesia 're somethin', took a nasty blow 'ere," "...When I talk ta m'self, th'voice in m'head sounds a awful lot like Shep," Kes mumbles, then snickers. "'At's kinda funny. 'Ey, me what sounds like Shep, quit fuckin' with me, wouldja?" she addresses rather loudly to the apartment at large. "An' make th'room stop movin' while yer takin' requests, too." Shep moves over towards Kes, peering down at her, "Yah at least 'member the part 'bout 'ow the Nall're layin' seige ta Tee-Kay, aye?" he asks. Kestrel squints up at Shep, one eye nearly shut. The blue one, actually. "...Oh. Yer home" she observes, then giggles. "Sorry, Sarge, sorta started withoutcha." She stumbles over the phrase, repeating it slowly to herself a couple of times before she gets it right. "'At's lossa... 'liter... lit... er... lossa ess sounds all inna row, it is." She scoots down toward one side of the couch a bit to leave Shep room to sit. Sheppard does sit, "Aye, 's is," he replies, "So yah don't 'member nuttin'?" he asks. "Don' 'member nothin' bout no Nall," Kes mumbles, halfheartedly trying to crawl into Shep's lap. She gives up when she's close enough to lay her head down on his leg, though. The bottle gets dragged right along before she makes a shaky attempt at setting it on the table. "Better not be no Nall. If 'ere's Nall, m'gonna kill me some 'Kari-cursed Nall. Make me a fuckin' new pair'a boots." "Can't believe yah don't 'member, we drove back 'ey're first attack, still shellin' the upper city," Shep replies as he looks up, "Lost Tam in 'at first battle, aye, can't 'member at all?" "NALL BOOTS," Kes insists, then snickers. A second shaky attempt is made to set the half-empty bottle on the table. This one misses too. Well, at least she doesn't drop it. "Fuckin' Nall boots... hell yeah." Sheppard pats Kestrel's head, "Aye, Nall boots," he replies, "Nah, 'ere ain't no Nall invasion, was jus' fuckin' with yah, 'cause it was fun," Kestrel lets her hand drop to the floor again, and looks up at Shep, confused. The scotch bottle makes a 'thunk' as it hits the carpet, but doesn't break -- nor does it fall over completely. Yay for the chance placement of hands. "...Y'mean... I can't make me a pair'a Nall boots?" she asks, clearly disappointed. One might even say heartbroken. "But... I wanted 'em. 'Ey'd be green, y'know. Like a Nall." "Yah can still make Nall boots, 'em materials jus' wont be as easy ta getcher 'ands on, see?" Shep replies. "But I want Nall boots now," Kes whines, frowning. She again tries to get that bottle onto the table, this time clearly frustrated with the effort. "...Wanna shoot somethin', too..." "Kes, yer so drunk Ah don't think yah could aim yer gun inna right direction," Shep replies, "So don't worry 'bout no shootin'," he watches her efforts to get the bottle on the table. Kestrel snorts. "Could still outshoot you, hoss," she slurs, finally getting the bottle onto the table. Almost onto the table, anyhow. It rests about halfway off the edge, her hand just sort of draped over it, and teetering dangerously. Sheppard moves his hand to gently push the bottle all the way onto the table, "Betcha could, but don't think yah could make a clean kill now, an' 'at's jus' not like yah, is it? Yew gotta reputation ta live up to, aye?" "...Prove ya wrong," Kes mumbles, trying to haul herself up toward where her jacket is. That is to say, across Shep's lap. She gives up after a couple of tries though, a sigh given. Total progress? Maybe a foot. "...Why's m'gun gotta be so damn far 'way?" she asks nobody in particular. "Someone broke in 'ere now, be pretty well screwed..." Sheppard pats Kes, "Ah got it covered, don't yah worry," Shep replies, "Yah ain't gotta worry when Ah'm 'round, an'...what's the words...other way 'round, too," Kestrel stops to think about it, raising her head a bit. "...Somethin' 'bout versus," she offers, nodding. She sways a bit and lays her head down again with a groan. "Shep, tell th'Nall ta stop makin' th'room move..." "Stop makin' the room move," Shep says to no one in particular. "...Didn't work," Kes says, shifting so she's laying on her side, facing the holoviewer. Somewhere in there, it seems to have turned itself off. "Wait, mebbie it did..." She frowns and rubs at the side of her head. "Had somethin' I wanteda tell ya. I fergit. Bri said I oughta 'member but I fergit." "Well, maybe when ya get all sobered up yah'll 'member, aye?" Shep replies. Kestrel shrugs, as best she can while laying on her side, anyway. "Mebbie," she replies, sleepily. "Was sorta... wossname... 'mbarassin' an'... an' such..." She seems to be fading out a bit, here. "Aye, well 'en, yah don't gotta 'member if yah don't wanna, letcha tell me inna mornin', aye?" Shep replies, content to just sit there with her it seems. "Kay," Kes mumbles, then curls up in a ball. "Yer too... too nizetame," she continues, a near-incomprehensible slur. Sheppard remains where he is, "Ain't too nice ta yew, only jus' nice," "...Love you," Kes mumbles, words slurred so badly they're near unrecognizable. Come to think of it, she could've just as easily been saying any of a number of phrases containing four-letter words considerably nastier than that one. Still, suspicion exists. Sheppard sits there for a bit, watching Kes. He gets up after a bit and gets a blanket to drape over her. Kestrel simply curls up more under the blanket when it's draped over her and snores quietly, apparently finally having passed out again somewhere along the line.