Searching & Drinking

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Insanity, Apr 25, 2013.

  1. "Dude," Camden had to speak rather loudly to be heard over the loud music, "God-I'm glad I finally found you. Do you know where anyone else is because it's late and we should really go before all of the murders start coming out. It's almost four in the morning. I saw Emory making out with some guy in a corner earlier but I haven't been over there since then. He might still be back there. . . I haven't seen anyone else. What about you?"

    It's not that Camden didn't like parties and clubs but he had drawn the short straw and was designated driver meaning it was his job to tell everyone when it was time to go home because if they waited another half hour he was going to be too tired to deal with them all and might just fall asleep at the wheel.

    He was pretty sure that Emory almost had when he was the driver because he was just too sweet to ask them to leave before they wanted to.

    It wasn't like they had a lot to worry about for the next day, though. They were all living in a large mansion for the summer and they were just partying every night.

    That was fine for Camden, he was a pretty relaxed person. He always had been.

    Emory was a lot different. He was very fragile. He cut for years because of his parents but he moved in with his uncle and got clean and now all he had were the scars. He hated his scars, he constantly wore long sleeves or thick bracelets to keep people from seeing them.

    Emory was very insecure. That's why he felt the need to find the first strong looking guy who seemed interested in him at a party or bar and use him as protection all night.

    [This isn't supposed to be some. . . kidnapped person roleplay or whatever just friends at a club.

    Emory is my second character in case that wasn't clear.

    Emory is gay, Camden is bisexual but to be honest I'm pretty bad at M/F relationships.

    Cursing is fine.

    Drama is good in this.

    Romance but fade to black for explicit business.

    18+ for characters

    No talking animals or zombies.

    Check the OOC thread for plot and stuff.

    That's all, for now.]
  2. "What?" Torval asked, leaning in closer to Camden to hear over the noise. "Already?" He put a hand up to push the shaggy red hair back from his face, looking up around the club again and taking in the change of patrons. "Damn. Guess so."

    He'd lost track of time tonight, maybe because he'd been partying harder than usual tonight. Normally Torval was the sort to hang out around the bar and be casual, but tonight he'd been dancing and throwing himself from one cluster of people to the next like there was no tomorrow. Maybe that was catching up to him, now that he was standing still, because he didn't protest. "Yeah, sure." He gave his head a shake, closing his eyes agains the lights as he leaned it back for a moment. "I think I saw Nate out on the floor." Tory tilted his head back down to look at Camden again, and grinned slightly. "Want me to grab him?"
  3. "I'll get him," Camden sighed, spotting Nate through the crowd, "Can you go get Emory? Then meet me at the doors. I have my phone on me in case anything happens. I'm not sure how drunk Emory is but you'll probably be able to at least drag him to the doors--he's tiny."

    Camden had seen how active Torval had been that night and he didn't want him going out on the dance floor and getting caught up in the music. He would deal with Nate and stick Torval with the task of pulling Emory away from some drunk alpha-male. He probably wouldn't get punched in the face. . . hopefully.
  4. If anything, Tory's grin widened as Camden took on the prospect of Nate. It's not that Nate was unpleasant, it was just... well, from the vigorous way he was dancing and grinding, he wasn't going to want to leave for hours yet.

    "Sure. I'll just toss him over my shoulder," Torval said. It was a joke, but he probably could if he wanted to; he'd played soccer back in high school, and he still had most of the muscle from it. The real problem would be whoever Emory'd hooked up with tonight. "Seeya there." His fingers lifted to brush back his hair again, and then he went off to the corner to look for Emory, turning this way and that to shoulder his way through the crowd.

    Out on the floor, Nate gyrated to the sound of the music, ignoring everything except the blonde girl he seemed to be hitting on. There was always someone, with Nate. She wasn't the first tonight, and to judge from the toss of her head as she talked to him, she wasn't going to be his 'last' tonight... unless Camden had something to say about that. Thus far, Nate hasn't noticed Camden approaching - in fact, he's just turned to present the back of his head and his gel-spiked hair in that direction. It seemed the blonde had decided to flee, and so he's in pursuit. Better catch him fast...
  5. Camden managed to grab Nate's upper arm before he could go any further. He began dragging him off of the face floor, rolling his eyes.

    "You were never going to score with her, anyways," Camden assured his friend, "Time to go home, I'm tired. Plus, if I leave you here you'll probably leave me here next time it's your turn to be designated driver and I don't want that to happen."

    The large guy that Emory was making out with was sitting in a chair, Emory in his lap and their drinks off on the table beside them. The man tasted like smoke and alcohol. Of course, Emory didn't mind the alcohol part at all but the smoke was kind of gross. Oh, well, if this guy saw his scars he would probably think that he was gross, too. So he wouldn't complain at all, not even in his head.
  6. "Hey!" Nate jerked his arm against Camden's grip, but didn't manage to break free. "What's your proble- oh." He rolled his eyes right back. "It's you. Well, it's not like you'd know, when's the last time you got any?" Another roll of his eyes, but at least they were making progress off the dance floor. "Yeah, but at least I wouldn't wuss out early. Come ooon, there's still a party here." He gave his arm another tug, trying to resist despite his general scrawniness.

    Torval glanced this way and that, checking in on various of the quiet nooks before finding the right one. There ya go. He frowned briefly, then shrugged to himself as he sidled past someone headed to the bar and stepped up to the pair. "Yo, Emory." Torval tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. "Time to go."
  7. "We're going home," Camden replied firmly, easily dragging Nate to the door and holding him there while he waited for the others. Camden was lucky that he enjoyed working out. He was plenty strong enough to overpower Nate, "And I just got some last week. When was the last time you got any?"

    "One more hour," Emory mumbled against the guy's lips. He didn't actually know his name. . . not that it was a problem. He was pretty sure that it started with an H, though, so there was that. . .
  8. "I'd be getting some now, except for you..." whined Nate. Not that the girl was anywhere to be seen, anymore, but not like that ever stopped Nate. He was always sure it was someone else's fault, not his - girl, guy, whatever, it didn't matter. He slumped back against the edge of the door, rolling his eyes at Camden again. "Fine, whatever. So can we go?" Nate looked back into the club again, willing the others to appear.

    Further in, blocked from Nate's view by many bodies, Torval shook his head. "Nah. Now." He unhooked a hand from his belt, reaching for Emory's shoulder. The big guy he more or less ignored, as interchangeable as any of the others Emory had hooked up with for the night. "Come on."
  9. "We're waiting for the others," Camden replied, knowing that Nate was already aware of that but feeling the need to say it anyways, "Torval went to go get Emory so as soon as they get here we can leave. Anyone else who was hoping to get a ride home can walk or take the bus."

    "I don't wanna go yet," Emory practically whine. He had been having trouble sleeping lately and he was hoping to wear himself out more so that he didn't have to deal with the whole sleep issue.
  10. The fact that Nate already knew that was the reason they were waiting did nothing to stop him from sighing dramatically as Camden said it. "Well, uh, next time, why don't you get them first instead of making me wait?" Because (to Nate's mind, at least), he's the most important person in the room. He closed his eyes, just so he didn't roll them again, and waited ungraciously.

    Torval frowned, his hand closing on Emory's shoulder. "Yeah, too bad. The bus sucks this time of night." Not that he thought Camden would actually leave them, but he wasn't going to let Emory make excuses to stick around on his own. He pulled the other toward him, glancing up briefly to the burly guy whose lap he was taking Emory from. "Sorry, man." No apologies to Emory, though.
  11. "Because I thought that it would take longer to get you and not as long to get Emory," Camden grumbled, checking his watch. He just wanted to go home and crash. He was tired and sober and neither of those two things were very good.

    Emory drunkinly grumbled something, smacking Torval's hand off of his shoulder and stomping towards the door. He did not enjoy being pulled away from a makeout session. Especially not when he was drunk.
  12. Nate opened his eyes, just to glare at Camden. "So next time, get him first. It's not like I'm some whiny kid who doesn't listen." He was, of course, but since when did he ever admit responsibility for things like that? He closed his eyes again, heedless of the fact that Emory was approaching, and slumped back against the wall.

    Torval trailed after Emory, watching him to make sure he kept going the right way. Well, that went... okay. On the bright side, the big guy hadn't tried to punch him, and Emory was, in fact, headed for the door. He glanced over to Camden as he caught a glimpse of him over the crowd, and lifted a hand in a brief wave when he thought he could catch the other's eye.
  13. Camden spotted Torval before he could retaliate against Nate. That was probably a good thing because he didn't want to be fighting with Nate the next day. Camden was tired and Nate was probably really drunk and neither of them should probably say much to one another at that time.

    Once Emory had reached the door Camden grabbed Nate's arm once again, pulling him out to the car and putting him in the backseat. He would have let him walk himself but he seemed tired and he didn't want him to fall down and hurt himself. Emory slid into the seat next to Nate, settling in and closing his eyes. Once he got out of the loud, tense atmosphere of a club he typically relaxed and sometimes fell asleep.

    Camden got into the driver's seat, starting the car and waiting to make sure Torval was ready to go.
  14. Torval glanced to Nate, giving him a nod. Nate ignored it, though he complained as Camden dragged him off, shoving and elbowing at him. Fortunately he was drunk enough to not be very effective at it, and he got shoved into the car, where he slumped in with his head against the window. "Ugh," Nate said. "It's not even light out." If he had his choice, that's how late he'd stay out every night - even when classes were in session.

    Torval ignored him, sliding into the passenger's side seat and tossing on his belt. He let out a yawn, leaning back against the chair, then glanced to Camden with a nod. "All right, let's get this party started."

    "I wish," Nate chimed in from the back seat.
  15. Emory shushed them, shifting into a more comfortable position and putting his head in Nate's lap, his eyes remaining closed.
    "Mmm--everyone should be quiet," He slurred, "M'tired."

    Camden just rolled his eyes. His friends were practically children. Well--Torval was okay, at least. He pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the house. He was just glad that it wasn't a very long trip. He wasn't sure how long he could deal with those two in a confined space when they were drunk.
  16. Nate barely even responded to Emory's head in his lap. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he opened his eyes, staring out the window at the passing streetlghts. "Don't see why," he belatedly replied to Emory's comment. "It's not so late." His voice was quiet, though, not likely to be much of a disturbance. He just had to have the last word, that was all. As they went around a curve, his hand drifted down, ending up resting lazily on Emory's shoulder. It stayed there, like moving it would take too much effort.

    Torval glanced back at them briefly, then forward again, shaking his head. He looked sideways at Camden, quirking his lips and lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "It's not far," he said in unconscious echo of the other's thoughts, then put his elbow up against the window, leaning his arm on the pane as he relaxed back, keeping his eyes open despite the tiredness that had been creeping up with that yawn before.

    The streets were quiet - those bars that closed at midnight had already emptied out, and the late dancers - most of them - were still at the clubs. At least they could make good time, and actually arrive back at the mansion before dawn. This time.
  17. Camden was glad when he finally reached the mansion and parked. He checked the backseat, noticing Emory's chest slowly rising and falling in a similar rhythem.
    "Emory's asleep--who wants to carry him in?" He sighed, unbuckling and getting out of the car. He figured that it was probably going to end up being him. Emory wasn't that heavy but still--it would be extra effort. He put his keys in his pocket so he wouldn't lose them, closing the driver's seat door and waiting for the others to get out.
  18. Torval glanced back again. "I'll do it," he said, then paused as if the words had surprised himself. It wasn't like he usually volunteered for that sort of thing. If he was asked, sure, but he didn't go and volunteer. He undid his belt and slid it back slowly while he thought over whether he wanted to change his mind, and then he shrugged again. "Why not? You drove." He shrugged, opening the door and turning away rather than watch Camden's reaction, and went back to open the back door.

    Nate had half-dozed in the car - or maybe he'd just been dazed - but he, at least, woke up as the car came to a stop. "Finally," he muttered, just as if he hadn't been the one complaining about them leaving the club in the first place, and opened his door... only to look down and notice Emory, still asleep on his leg. Nate rolled his eyes, then looked up as Torval leaned in and tried to get Emory lifted. "Well, go on," he said to Torval in a demanding tone.
  19. Emory made a small mewing sound in his sleep, clinging onto one of Nate's knees when he felt arms trying to pull him away. Nate provided an extra amount of heat and Emory was feeling rather cold. It might be summer but for some reason Emory found it kind of cold when the sun wasn't up. Plus, since it was summer he was wearing a tank top so his arms were covered in goosebumps.

    "Thanks," Camden murmured, leaving Torval and Nate to deal with Emory as he shuffled up to the mansion and unlocked the door. He was exhausted and his head hurt from all of the noise. He just wanted to get some sleep--and maybe grab a beer or something first.
  20. Which, really, meant leaving Torval to deal with it, because Nate was so ready to be gone. He reached down and started peeling Emory's fingers back from his knee. Torval gave him a dubious glance, and Nate just rolled his eyes. "Come oooon," he said.

    Torval shook his head, and sighed as he leaned in and put his arms around Emory's middle more securely, holding the smaller boy in a sort of cross between a hug and a carry. His own body was warm, enough bulk to hold the heat instead of being scrawny and thin.

    Nate pulled away as soon as Emory was lifted, darting away to the door and following Camden in. Torval's progress was necessarily slower, having to adjust Emory's position and move carefully. Emory might be light, but human bodies could be awkward to carry.