[wild child] Tommy/JoJo

[Joucho Ayatsuri]

The scene was foggy, clouded with mist so that it was impossible to see anything in front of you. It was creepy, perhaps more like a nightmare than a dream. A girl walked through the fog, her hands trailing gently behind her, allowing the fog to gather around them and then swirl away, forever lost from their warm life source. The girls footsteps were steady, even, confident, but her eyes showed a different story. They were clouded, muggy, black and grey swirled together to form the colour of intoxication. Even in her dream, Joucho was drunk, though her drunken dream self wasn't as bad as the real, full on drunkedness. The girl in the dream stopped dead, having seemingly hit an invisible wall...

Heavy eyes snapped open, the irises completely white. For a moment they stayed that way, no colour at all. When at last her vision cleared, the swirls of the previous nights intoxication set in. She was lain down, though the bed beneath her was awfully hard and uncomfortable. For a moment, she thought back to whom exactly she had gone out with last night. Tommy. A sigh of relief washed through her, but it was immediatly replaced by confusion. If she had been with Tommy, then this was Tommy's room. But since when was Tommy's bed this hard, and Tommy not there? Because there was definatly no boiling-hot Tommy beside her. It was then that her eyes adjusted to the darkness, black and purple coloured eyes gazing at the panels on the ceiling.

She could have sworn the ceiling was not that close when she had fallen asleep. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows knotted together, her mouth crunching up to form a neat little 'o' shape. It was an effort to lift her hand, but when her hand hit the flat panels of the bottom of Tommy's bed, her confusion only deepened. So she had figured out exactly where she was, but why on earth was she down here... underneath Tommy's bed. A small chuckle escaped her, perhaps an after-effect of the alcohol she had comsumed.

"What the--- Tommy?"

She muttered gently to herself. With a neat little side-shuffle, she escaped the grubby underside of Tommy's bed, not looking back. There was probably something nasty down there that she didnt want to know about, and as it happened, Tommy wasn't in his bed. A small groan escaped her as she glanced down at her ruined outfit. The heel of one of her shoes had snapped off, so she kicked them off. She wouldn't be using them again. The short-short were no where to be seen, and she stood in a pair of lacy red boxers, hers for once. Her top was completely ruined, ripped at the side. Shaking her head, she wondered what on earth they had got up to last night.

Padding slowly through Tommy's room, her head banging with a headache, she began to search for him. Well he definatly wasn't under the bed. She took slouched steps towards the shower cubicle attatched to his bedroom. She hoped that Cal was already out, because there had been a few times that they had almost been caught by the energy-junkie that Tommy shared his room with. Surprise Surprise, Cal wasn't there, but neither was Tommy in the bathroom. A small chuckle once again took her as turned around. She was cold, so what better to cover up with than one of Tommy's shirts. JoJo crossed the room quickly, throwing open the door to reveal... Tommy.

"So thats were you are... Had a good time in Narnia??"

Her teasing tones filled the room as she reached up and took one of Tommy's shirts. She quickly put it on, then slumped down on the floor, head cocked to the side as she gazed at Tommy... he seemed to have passed out in the wardrobe. What on earth they had got up to last night, JoJo didnt even want to imagine.

[Tomoru Akarui]

[Joucho Ayatsuri]

Tommy seemed to have passed out in a stranger place than JoJo, and she couldn't help but giggle as he came round, muttering about Narnia. So he must have heard him when she'd asked him about it a few moments before. A small smirk flashed over her lips as he crawled out of the wardrobe in his boxers. She considered moving to get out of his way, but the sheer effort it would take to actually move was over-whelming. She stayed where she was.

"Well I think it looks a whole lot sexier on me, so I'm keeping it"

She declared, a wicked grin on her face. She glanced at him as he padded slowly across the room, in much the same fashion as she had done moments ago. When he got to his drawers, he pulled out a pair of jeans and pulled them on. A sigh escaped her as she slipped back, laying on her back beside the wardrobe. It was far too much effort to move, so it was all the better that she didnt. His question perked up her lips again as she twisted around to look at him, now in the classic model pose with her body curved, legs curls up against her. A giggle and another sigh, before she gave her memory a good kick.

"I'm not too sure actually. I remember coming to yours to tell you about Damien and him being his fucky self. Then you decided it would be a brilliant idea to go in to Eastwood and unleash our sexiness on the world below... Between your smoldering looks and my sexiness, im sure we should have pulled last night. But I woke up under your bed and you weren't there... You know the rest..."

She prattled on though her head was beginning to pound famously. She crawled forward, dragging herself towards the bed. Once she reached it, with an inhuman effort, hauled herself up on to the bed. Once there, she collapsed face down on the bed with a 'harumph' and lay unmoving. That had sure been a wicked night out, even by Tommy's standards...

[Tomoru Akarui]

Tommy grinned down at the girl as she struck a pose - he wasn't even sure if she was aware that was what she was doing, but conciously or not she still managed to pull it off. That was just what she did really, she looked sexy. It was part of the essence of Jojo. She wasn't all that sexy when she was puking up though, she'd have to work on that one. Most of the time though, 99% of it she had the sexiness down to an art. He could almost think he trained her, himself. Tommy's relationship was, as he always claimed, closer to platonic than anything romantic. There was no romance between the pair, though there was a smattering of one-night stands. And copious amounts of alchohol.

"Never said you couldn't keep it... Besides, it will return to my bedroom floor sooner or later."

He replied smoothly, or it would be smoothly if his throat wasn't so dry. The words were rough and huskier than normal, a cobination of dehydration and the just-having-woken up issue. Fairly standard, nothing a decent cup of strong black coffee couldn't handle. Or two... He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a headache rising, creeping up into his skull. No doubt it was armed with a hammer, or something equally offensive to better his head with. Just great. That coffee would definatley be in order, or maybe they just needed to get drunk again... Hair of the dog and all of that? Tommy shuffled towards his bed, and near collapsed onto it, though he was careful to avoid breaking any part of Jo in the process. He nudged her sideways, creating a little more space for him as he settled down beside her.

"Damien... Yeah, I think I can remember you ranting about that. Lots of swearing and evil black eyes... But why didn't we pull?"

He questioned, staring up at the ceiling with a slight crease between his brows.

"Not that I should be pulling, seeing how I have Dori and all. Not my plan to start a torrid affiar with some cheap tart I picked up from wherever were. But still, I would have thought -or wouldn't have thought if you consider the circumstances- we'd have ended up with someone. And, I have to ask... Why the wardrobe of all places?"