love me / spin the bottle

[emil]

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      LITTLE PISTOL

UNDER THE SKIN, AGAINST THE SKULL, THEY PUT A LITTLE CHIP SO THAT THEY KNOW IT ALL. I THINK I MIGHT BE SCARED OF THE WORLD AND THE WAY IT MAKES YOU FEEL AFRAID, AND HOW IT GETS IN THE WAY.

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The Pitt, while the idea of it was rather fun (to him, at least), lacked quite a bit in fun things to do other than slap some poor fucks around from time to time. Half of the members had sticks up their asses; at this point, the only reason he stuck around was purely the heat and the fact that a lot of the guys here were more than somewhat attractive. It was unfortunate, though; he spent so much time simply laying in the sun that he never got the chance to flirt with that cute collie, or the big guy he took quite a liking too.

At that moment, as the crisp fall air filled his lungs, the large wolfdog found himself lying among a particularly large pile of empty beer bottles. "Fuuuck," he breathed, rolling to his side and stretching out his long limbs. Had he really drunken that much? Eugene barely felt buzzed; after growing some, he probably needed much more liquor to even think about getting drunk. Which sucked, because even with his large stash of it, he likely didn't have enough to last him more than a day or two. The male heaved out lightly and stood with only a slight wobble. He took in his mouth a full bottle and trodded into the main area of the camp.

As he slumped to the ground and promptly swallowed half the bottle in a single gulp, Eugene thought on what he could do to pass the time. Most games were a bore unless they involved kissing or fumbling around in a dark closet for seven minutes, and while that definitely would have been fun, there seemed to be a bit of a lack of closets in the fortress. Ah, but what there wasn't a lack of was bottles. Lantern-like eyes turned down to the one he held, and upon finishing the last drop, the slightly tipsy demon sat up and barked out,"Hey hey, spin the bottle, anyone?"

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Butch hadn't had anything to drink for a while. Wasn't like he knew where to go for it, and now that he was stuck here as a slave, he kind of assumed sobriety was required. Bummer. A good bash was sorely needed- the folks here were mostly wet rags whose definition of fun wasn't in Butch's dictionary, and never would be. He couldn't see the fun in beating someone to an actual pulp. Sure, fights could get the blood pumping, and Butch hadn't ever backed down from one yet, but the kinda shit he saw couldn't fall under the category of "fight." That meant someone was giving as good as they were getting, yeah? Not here. Pounding on a punching bag had to be more satisfactory than some of the poor bastards Butch had seen, and he always told himself he'd never turn out like that, no way in hell. He'd rather die in the heat than become some kinda ragdoll with no spunk left in him, and he'd say he was doing a pretty fine job at keeping his head low while still getting in his kicks every so often.

Butch wondered if anything'd be different, now that Val was here, except he was still a slave, wasn't he? Just one a little less lonely than before.

It gave him a renewed boldness, though, so he didn't even bother checking if slaves could have a blast spinning a bottle. Tsuyu was an ice-cube, anyhow, and if she snapped out of her funk, the first thing she'd do probably wasn't going to be yanking on the collar of her least favorite slave. Probably. Predicting that lady was like guessing what color marble was gonna fall out of the bag, so with a mental "fuck you" to Froggy, Butch sauntered over to Eugene with an easy grin. "So you stuck around, dreamy. You must've flipped your lid a long time ago." He settled down across the bottle. "I think we could make a game of just the two of us, dig?"

[; albion]

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BENNY G.

"careful kitty cat, don't wanna overstep your place again, do we?" benny practically purred in amusement as he strolled toward the little set-up. his voice held a mix of malice and humor, though the man himself wasn't in the mood to reprimand and bark at slaves right now. he had gotten a good cat nap between shifts, and felt more energized than he had been most nights. clear of any "visions" this fine day. maria had given him a break for once.

he settled himself across from  the two and curled his patched tail over his paws, tipping his chin up with a smug smile. "now, sharing is caring. we can all have a little fun with eugene!"

© LEXASPERATED

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Great, another alcoholic to worry about. No, that — that's a little inconsiderate of him, maybe. There's something about the smell of alcohol that still makes Val want to knock it out of everyone's hands, though he'd had a few adventures with it himself. He prefers cigarettes even though they'll rot his lungs one day. When he smokes, problems float away with the clouds. When other people drink, it just seems to start more issues, but maybe that's just for them. Butch is drinking away his history and Eugene... maybe he has a good reason. Val doesn't know anything about him, just enough that when the stranger sways and slumps to the ground, he lifts his head to offer something between a disapproving frown and a scowl. Then more people join and his expression turns even more towards a scowl. (Because surprise of all surprises, he doesn't like anyone here.) He tries to go back to the book underneath his paw, some dusty novel he'd found half-buried in a corner. He doesn't wanna hear their flirting, but he doesn't want to move. Looks like he loses either way — something about the way everyone talks pisses him off and there's no way to avoid that sort of thing.

"If you wanted someone that cared about your opinions and feelings, you picked the wrong guy," the canine finally comments blandly, golden-brown eyes firmly on Benny. Butch? Caring about what the world thought his place in the world should be? Nobody could make him. The fact that people here thought they could was hilarious. They would be hilarious if it weren't for the darker aspects of this place that have him worrying after the collar around his throat. The sooner they left, the better, but that as an option didn't seem completely viable. One day they would figure it out. For now, Val focuses mostly on the game. He closes his book with that same tired irritation on his features, though he refuses to stand and join what they're doing fully. "If there's going to be any 'sharing', maybe you three should find another place to be."

[COSMIIX]

[glow=black,1,400]A BEATING HEART OF STONE, YOU GOTTA BE SO COLD TO MAKE IT IN THIS WORLD — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Walking over, the striped hybrid made his way over with his mixed gaze locked onto the trio. Nowadays, he felt like he was slowly growing distant but he thought he was possibly was homesick or something. Once an NPC had told him that they often questioned if he was alive, of course, he was alive. What kind of stupid question was that? He found a place near Benny not really liking some things about how the situation was being handled but the former leader would flick his ears back with a faint smile "Well, while you two are bickering. I'm just gonna go ahead and play," Quill was a coy one, he would spin one of the bottles watching it for a moment before touching it with a single metallic claw watching as it stopped on Eugene. The direhound watched Butch, Benny, and Val for a moment before he would aim to give Eugene a kiss. It was not short lived though once he finished would he glance over to the other three with a grin on his maw "Y'all gonna play or gawk around and fight like a bunch of magpies?"

[emil]

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      LITTLE PISTOL

UNDER THE SKIN, AGAINST THE SKULL, THEY PUT A LITTLE CHIP SO THAT THEY KNOW IT ALL. I THINK I MIGHT BE SCARED OF THE WORLD AND THE WAY IT MAKES YOU FEEL AFRAID, AND HOW IT GETS IN THE WAY.

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It wasn't long before others began to gather, the first to approach being Butch; the hound couldn't say he was disappointed to see him first. He returned the grin smoothly and tipped his head coyly to the side, tail wagging slowly as he practically cooed,"I certainly wouldn't mind playing with just you sometime soon, かなり少年." A bit unfortunate, really, that others had interrupted so soon. Eugene hadn't even managed to snatch a quick kiss, but there was always time for that later, especially when it looked like Butch would be sticking around.

He offered a small frown to Benny at his quip to the collie. Overstep? All the guy was doing was flirting, there was no harm in that. Gene huffed out in mild annoyance and glanced to the slave—fuck he hated that word—before looking back at Benny with a quirked brow. "Aw, don't ruin our fun before it's started, Ben! He didn't do nothin' wrong." The wolfdog murmured, though his frown broke into a lopsided grin after a moment. "Certainly enough of me to go around, though, eh?"

To Val's first comment he merely smiled; he didn't know Butch well at all, but it was easy to tell he didn't quite give a shit about anyone with a rank above slave. All he cared about was getting by without getting a yank on his chain, and Eugene could respect that. At least he wasn't a total dipshit just asking for a beating, or someone that stuck to the shadows and cowered each time a mere dweller passed. "Not a lot of fun in playing if not everyone can get involved." He barked. "You're welcome too, if you can manage to get that stick outta your ass." A light smirk to him, and then he turned to Quill; while he hadn't managed to catch what the larger hound had said, he did manage to catch his lips, somewhat to Eugene's surprise. Even so, he reciprocated what he could before it ended, and sat there with a bit of a dumb expression until it slid into a smug little smirk.

"Well," he hummed, drawing his tongue over his jaws. "I suppose that's one way to start us off." Gene thumped his paw lightly on the ground and eyed Quill for a moment before settling a claw on the bottle. "Ready, boys?" He tapped it once, twice, then gave it a spin, and smiled as he watched it begin to slow.

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]"Kanari-what now?" He had no idea what that meant, but Butch was pretty certain it wasn't an insult. What would Eugene insult him for? He'd seemed to like Butch well enough, treated him better than some of the other people did. Case in point. Benny's chastisement had the collie sneering and shifting so that his long fur draped slightly over the shape of the collar. Wasn't like it'd change anything, but he wasn't going to cower under the damn thing, especially not for this bozo. He was all fluffed up and ready to rattle with him when Eugene did it for him. Nice as he'd been so far, he hadn't been expecting that, and Butch gave him a look like he'd grown a coupla new heads before shrugging it off. No point in- how'd the phrase go? Looking a horse gift in the mouth? That didn't seem right. Whatever. He wasn't gonna take it for granted. "What a square," he snorted, blue eyes rolling off Benny dismissively.

That he could get in trouble for, but it was nothing new.

His head perked up when he heard Val's voice, tail giving a single wag. He'd seen him reading over there a little while ago, but hadn't bothered him on account of knowing the guy got his panties in a twist whenever somebody interrupted his book-time. The little scars on his ears weren't just from outright picking fights with him. "C'mon, Nosebleed, don't be a drag. It'll be a blast." Stick up his ass, huh? He'd said that to him before, except for some reason, Butch didn't like hearing somebody else aiming it his way. That was Butch's job, yeah? "He ain't that way- he just likes his books, is all."

Of course, then the bastard had to join in and play. The one who'd chased Butch down the day he tried to run away, and his mouth took on an unhappy frown. Game wasn't looking like so much fun anymore, and he held still when Quill got up to go plant one on Eugene, staring murderously at the ground. "Get bent." If he got Quill on his own turn, he'd smash the damn bottle over his head and make a break for it. Val was smart enough to pick up on cues- he'd follow him. Then they could both cut out.

He forced his expression to even, watching the bottle as it spun, and when it finally slowed, it was pointing his way. Smirking, the collie padded around the glass, and made to try and kiss him straight on, but got his cheek at the last second. With a glint in his eye, he sauntered back to his spot. "No fun in getting straight to it." Butch gave the bottle a nudge, willing it to not land on Quill.

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]To be honest, Val zones out pretty quickly after he's said his piece. Though Quill gets a sharp yet painfully bored glance at his comment, it doesn't hit him too hard. The dog is quickly back to reading the book he'd closed, attention snapping from one monotonous word to the next as if his life depended on it. In truth, his life may not, but his sanity sure does. At least this way whatever's fighting to crawl out from underneath his skin dies down a little. Whatever he'd thought of Eugene drops a little further at what he says, the whole thing managing to pierce his concentration enough that his ears pull back towards his head (he's not — irritated, it's something else maybe), though the expression recovers quickly. Really, he'd played this game enough times back home to know for sure that there's not a stick up his ass, but thinking about sharing that with these sorts of people has him feeling gross down to his core. No matter how they talk, how they act, they're still living in a group where some people live their life in collars, and they're still not doing anything about it. (Guess he's not any better, huh?)

Butch makes it a little better. It doesn't really show on his face, still a bit of a clean slate when it comes to emotions, he glances up with a slow roll of warm amber eyes. Just to make sure he catches it. Yeah, he liked his books. Definitely more than he likes slavers. He won't say it though, just in case someone in this place is rubbed the wrong way.

The subtle amusement changes to concern within a moment as the collie's expression darkens at Quill's entrance, but he goes back to ignoring everything quickly enough. If it was bad enough, Butch would have walked away. Or started a fight or something. (Unless he was really that into Eugene?) Which — maybe, though he glances up to see a kiss on the cheek and tries not to huff with laughter, because whatever front Butch puts up, Val's pretty sure he knows just how many times he's been that close to someone's mouth. It's funny, then it's not, and he's back to reading. Trying to. But the spinning of the bottle draws his eyes up again, just in time to watch it stop... right on him. He's technically not a part of this game, not in the circle, not wanting to be a part of the circle, but it's right in the gap between two people. Val clears his throat and looks back to the book, no longer absorbing the words on the page. Some story that's as dusty as the pages; he stopped caring a while ago. "Spin again, Butch-man."