Post by Fusae Umezono on May 25, 2009 23:20:26 GMT -5
((tag Hiroki for some wonderful shoving into the tv~))
It was one thing to go out drinking late at night -- Fusae'd had a rough day to begin with, between those highschool kids pestering her whenever they could and then that Nametame guy creepily hanging around for a bit before hightailing it away from her -- it was another thing entirely to decide to stick around the bar even longer in the vague hope that the rain would peter out by the time she was done (and the rain was the only reason she stayed in this crap-ass bar to begin with; Inaba was painfully lacking in appealing places to get drunk off your ass). Maybe after this beer... maybe after the slice of pizza... Oh, look, it still hadn't let up, but that was okay because she was only halfway through her third beer so it could wait.
It turned out that the rain still hadn't let up by the time she had been kicked out at closing time, which by that point suited her that fine. The hood of the light jacket she wore was more than enough to keep her reasonably dry a bit more than a drizzle, while she swerved along the side of the roads and walkways to avoid the worst of the puddles. Kind of hard to care about getting rained on when you were well into the realm of tipsy and needed to focus on walking in a straight line; seriously, the sheer fact that she had made it this far into the shopping district from the bar was a miracle in itself. The very idea of reaching her front door, without much more damage than a slight tinge of a headache that would explode into a lovely hangover the next day... that was absolutely phenomenal.
"Fuck my liiiiife," she muttered under her breath (or at least thought so, she tended to be a fabulously deaf drunk at the best of times) as she fumbled the key in the lock. ...Waaait, turn it the other way, give the door a good kick to loosen it up a bit, and then put some shoulder into forcing it open. And so what if she was a bit too intoxicated to remember to lock the door behind her? (or even put much effort into closing it at all?) Inaba was pathetically sleepy compared to Osaka: she hadn't even had any guys try and pick her up on the streets on the way home, hadn't heard sirens or shouts or even so much as a backfired car. Really, an unlocked door to a garage tucked behind a steak stand in the shopping district... who would bother her?
It was a comfort to her at least. Really, worrying was for people who had something to lose, and currently Fusae was working at her cousin's stand and living out of a modified garage. Couldn't get much lower than that.
It was one thing to go out drinking late at night -- Fusae'd had a rough day to begin with, between those highschool kids pestering her whenever they could and then that Nametame guy creepily hanging around for a bit before hightailing it away from her -- it was another thing entirely to decide to stick around the bar even longer in the vague hope that the rain would peter out by the time she was done (and the rain was the only reason she stayed in this crap-ass bar to begin with; Inaba was painfully lacking in appealing places to get drunk off your ass). Maybe after this beer... maybe after the slice of pizza... Oh, look, it still hadn't let up, but that was okay because she was only halfway through her third beer so it could wait.
It turned out that the rain still hadn't let up by the time she had been kicked out at closing time, which by that point suited her that fine. The hood of the light jacket she wore was more than enough to keep her reasonably dry a bit more than a drizzle, while she swerved along the side of the roads and walkways to avoid the worst of the puddles. Kind of hard to care about getting rained on when you were well into the realm of tipsy and needed to focus on walking in a straight line; seriously, the sheer fact that she had made it this far into the shopping district from the bar was a miracle in itself. The very idea of reaching her front door, without much more damage than a slight tinge of a headache that would explode into a lovely hangover the next day... that was absolutely phenomenal.
"Fuck my liiiiife," she muttered under her breath (or at least thought so, she tended to be a fabulously deaf drunk at the best of times) as she fumbled the key in the lock. ...Waaait, turn it the other way, give the door a good kick to loosen it up a bit, and then put some shoulder into forcing it open. And so what if she was a bit too intoxicated to remember to lock the door behind her? (or even put much effort into closing it at all?) Inaba was pathetically sleepy compared to Osaka: she hadn't even had any guys try and pick her up on the streets on the way home, hadn't heard sirens or shouts or even so much as a backfired car. Really, an unlocked door to a garage tucked behind a steak stand in the shopping district... who would bother her?
It was a comfort to her at least. Really, worrying was for people who had something to lose, and currently Fusae was working at her cousin's stand and living out of a modified garage. Couldn't get much lower than that.