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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:15:25 GMT -5
"Well...yeah, I guess we did," she replied, after a moment of exaggerated thought complete with her finger to her temple.
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Post by Everyone Else on Dec 28, 2009 22:22:38 GMT -5
::Derek pointed his finger at her accusingly.:: "You're drunk."
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:23:53 GMT -5
She pointed an accusing finger back at him. "So are you."
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Post by Everyone Else on Dec 28, 2009 22:25:29 GMT -5
::Derek made a surprised face, before he chuckled.:: "You're right. But I can walk home."
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:26:05 GMT -5
"I...can't," she said, having to think hard. "Gotta call somebody. Can't drive."
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Post by Everyone Else on Dec 28, 2009 22:29:38 GMT -5
::That was a logistics problem they had failed to consider when starting this night. Derek reached into his pocket to fish for his cell phone.:: "Do you need a phone?"
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:31:24 GMT -5
"Nuh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "I've got mine." She searched through her purse for several minutes, finally pulling out her phone. She held up a finger with an exaggerated wink and dialed Pietro.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Dec 28, 2009 22:34:50 GMT -5
::Pietro had been working out in the gymnasium, but he had taken to keeping his cell phone with him after Rossignol had lost her powers; it was for additional precaution. When the call came in, he set the weights down and answered,:: "Rossignol?"
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:36:13 GMT -5
"...Pietro?" The word came out sounding more like 'Pet-ro.' "I...thhink I need help."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Dec 28, 2009 22:38:28 GMT -5
::Pietro frowned to himself upon hearing Rossignol's voice. First, she knew how to pronounce his name properly and failed to do so. Second, she explicitly said she needed help. He rose to his feet and was halfway to the foyer before he asked,:: "What happened?"
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:40:13 GMT -5
"I'm...kinda drunk," she said, trying not to laugh because Derek was making faces at her. "Drivin's no good."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Dec 28, 2009 22:42:44 GMT -5
::Pietro paused by the door when he heard that and his frown deepened. She was not supposed to drink, certainly not to this extent, certainly not alone. This also presented a greater problem, because if he tried to run her somewhere while she was drunk, she likely would vomit, and could likely choke on her own vomit; unfortunately, he had learned that lesson early in life. He spoke flatly,:: "Where are you?"
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:44:52 GMT -5
"Off The Wagon," she said, without clarification.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Dec 28, 2009 22:46:06 GMT -5
::Fortunately, Pietro had no sense of humor and assumed it was a literal name of the tavern.:: "Which is where? Westchester? The Village?"
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Post by Typhoid on Dec 28, 2009 22:46:46 GMT -5
She had to think through a haze. "Village. Yeah."
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