Feb. 3rd, 2013

grand_fallguy: (too early)
The road to hell was paved with good intentions, that's what they said. well Tim didn't know about that, but this hangover seemed to be a good metaphor for that. Some well meaning Fae had slipped some human spirits into the course of drinks the night before. Elven wine didn't come with hangovers.

By the time Tim stumbled from his room into the kitchen, it was much later than he usually liked to get up. Even on a Sunday. Actually he kind of liked the city on a Sunday. It was quieter than usual.

He drank five glasses of water, and one super sized cup of coffee before he felt awake enough to even think about what had gone on the night before.

There had been a few things being celebrated. Apparently the Fae were as passionate about Hurling as the Mortal world was about Football, and the local team had won the Hidden World Cup. Then there was toasting the marriage of Tim's mother and Faust, then something about the Superbowl.

"Hey." Neil yawned, coming in looking disgustingly refreshed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Weren't you supposed to catch a train up north? Something about a big party or something way up in the ass of nowhere Scotland?"

"...Fuck."

[For the girlfriend.]

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