Post by sinclair on Jul 2, 2012 22:24:55 GMT -5
[style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#D6E7AB;line-height:7px;margin-bottom:5px] [/style]
[style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#F2B661;line-height:7px;margin-top:5px] [/style][style=font-family:tahoma;font-size:10px;line-height:11px;text-align:justify;width:330px;padding: 5 0 5 0]Bright sunlight beamed through the window, striking the woman's face with a vengeance. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, Sinclair groaned. Why the hell was the sun already so high? Her alarm clock should have gone off by now. Katrina's goinng to kill me, she thought, vaguely concerned. She hates it when we're late. Ugh, dealing with the moody nurse was going to be such a headache. Feeling unusually reluctant to get out of bed, the woman turned her face and pulled the blankets closer around her. She did not want to get up.
Speaking of headaches, her head was killing her. It was like an aggravated Sandslash decided to have a field day in her skull -- not to mention the fact that her stomach wasn't agreeing with the rest of her body. Sinclair found that odd -- as far as she knew, she just never got sick.Her pride refused to even acknowledge the possibility. With another groan and a few silent swears, Sinclair rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.
... Waaait a minute. The brunette took a deep breath. This wasn't her pillow. It smelled ... different. With a gasp, the woman pushed herself up and looked around, eyes wide. The blanket-that-was-not-her-blanket slid off, and the woman noticed, for the first time, something that should have been obvious from the beginning, if not for her raging headache and angry stomach.
She was naked.
"What the fuck is go -- aaaah." She raised a hand to her forehead, the Sandslash once again attacking her cranium as she screwed her eyes shut against the sunlight. Suddenly, her symptoms began to make sense. Of course Sinclair wasn't sick, she was just hungover. Allowing herself a stream of swears, the woman examined her unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like she was in someone else's bedroom -- the implications of which she absolutely did not want to consider -- in someone else's bed -- maybe she had just borrowed the room temporarily? -- with no clothes on.Sinclair had no explanation for that.
Now that she had her bearings ... somewhat, a whole slew of questions presented themselves to her addled brain. One, where was she? Two, how did she get here, wherever she was? And three, where the fuck were her clothes? Sinclair decided her first plan of action was to find something to wear. The rest of her confusion could deal until she got clothesand maybe some painkillers for that godawful headache. Her eyes landed on what she assumed was a dresser. "Place to start," she grunted. The woman stumbled out of bed, disoriented, and nearly threw up as the room spun in circles around her.
Staggering toward the dresser, she began to roughly pull out every drawer within reach. Sinclair didn't give a damn that she was making a mess; she was sure that whoever owned this room would be more than willing to forgive her once she found her damn gun. Clothes flew everywhere, and she grabbed a pair of black boxers. Pulling them on with some difficulty, she figured that wearing something was better than being butt-naked. Next order of business was ... "Shirt," she spat. The woman reached out and grabbed the nearest top.
Before she could put it on, she heard the door open behind her. In an attempt to preserve what was left of her dignity, Sinclair pressed the Staryu Wars t-shirt to her chest and spun around. If only she had found that gun.
"Who's there?" she demanded.[/style][style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#F26161;line-height:7px;] [/style][style=font-family:tahoma;font-size:10px;line-height:11px;text-align:justify;width:330px;padding: 5 0 5 0]notes um lol hi.
tags michael![/style][style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#E03D5D;line-height:7px;] [/style]
[atrb=width,5] | [atrb=width,110][style=width:100px;height:100px;border-radius:100%;-moz-border-radius:100%;-webkit-border-radius:100%;background-image: url(http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h113/planarpotence/Icons/Hungary/194.png);] [/style] | [atrb=width,110][style=width:100px;height:100px;border-radius:100%;-moz-border-radius:100%;-webkit-border-radius:100%;background-image: url(http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h113/planarpotence/Icons/Hungary/194.png);] [/style] | [atrb=width,110][style=width:100px;height:100px;border-radius:100%;-moz-border-radius:100%;-webkit-border-radius:100%;background-image: url(http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h113/planarpotence/Icons/Hungary/194.png);] [/style] |
Speaking of headaches, her head was killing her. It was like an aggravated Sandslash decided to have a field day in her skull -- not to mention the fact that her stomach wasn't agreeing with the rest of her body. Sinclair found that odd -- as far as she knew, she just never got sick.
... Waaait a minute. The brunette took a deep breath. This wasn't her pillow. It smelled ... different. With a gasp, the woman pushed herself up and looked around, eyes wide. The blanket-that-was-not-her-blanket slid off, and the woman noticed, for the first time, something that should have been obvious from the beginning, if not for her raging headache and angry stomach.
She was naked.
"What the fuck is go -- aaaah." She raised a hand to her forehead, the Sandslash once again attacking her cranium as she screwed her eyes shut against the sunlight. Suddenly, her symptoms began to make sense. Of course Sinclair wasn't sick, she was just hungover. Allowing herself a stream of swears, the woman examined her unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like she was in someone else's bedroom -- the implications of which she absolutely did not want to consider -- in someone else's bed -- maybe she had just borrowed the room temporarily? -- with no clothes on.
Now that she had her bearings ... somewhat, a whole slew of questions presented themselves to her addled brain. One, where was she? Two, how did she get here, wherever she was? And three, where the fuck were her clothes? Sinclair decided her first plan of action was to find something to wear. The rest of her confusion could deal until she got clothes
Staggering toward the dresser, she began to roughly pull out every drawer within reach. Sinclair didn't give a damn that she was making a mess; she was sure that whoever owned this room would be more than willing to forgive her once she found her damn gun. Clothes flew everywhere, and she grabbed a pair of black boxers. Pulling them on with some difficulty, she figured that wearing something was better than being butt-naked. Next order of business was ... "Shirt," she spat. The woman reached out and grabbed the nearest top.
Before she could put it on, she heard the door open behind her. In an attempt to preserve what was left of her dignity, Sinclair pressed the Staryu Wars t-shirt to her chest and spun around. If only she had found that gun.
"Who's there?" she demanded.[/style][style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#F26161;line-height:7px;] [/style][style=font-family:tahoma;font-size:10px;line-height:11px;text-align:justify;width:330px;padding: 5 0 5 0]notes um lol hi.
tags michael![/style][style=width:340px;height:7px;background:#E03D5D;line-height:7px;] [/style]