!INBOX // EUDIO.

[medals]

VIEWING CONTACT JEMINY [ WALKER, JEMIMA ] ( AUTOMATED MESSAGE ) jem here. leave a message, ta. [ text | email | voicemail | videochat | visit ]

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XMAS

[prettier]

[Good morning, Santa's been! Please enjoy waking up snuggled against the body pillow that's been smuggled into the bed during the night.

There are also some chocolates - three boxes stacked on the bedside table, containing assorted alcoholic centres.]

[medals]

i love you

[medals]

i hope some of these chocolates are mint because i have hangover breath

[prettier]

Freddie Baxter is taking a screencap.

Might help with the hangover, but not like that. I've got toothpaste I can squeeze into some nutella if you're desperate.

[medals]

don't screencap my shame you utter cretin

[medals]

could you bring me some mouth wash and a bowl actually

[prettier]

Seriously? Can't you just swallow it.

[medals]

swallowing it's bad for you

[prettier]

That's one I haven't heard before.

Jesus.

[Hear a door slamming and feet padding into the bathroom, then towards her door, which opens.]

I'm just going to dump this and leave. I haven't had my morning shag yet, you'll put me right out of the mood.

[medals]

[there are three lumps in the bed: jem, her new favourite pillow and somewhere, buried under the covers, is petre. jem hangs loosely near the edge of the bed, covers all kicked off and looking vaguely grey, though also vaguely happy. ]

Didn't think anything could put you off shagging.

[prettier]

The wrong kind of bodily fluids, apparently.

[Freddie gingerly approaches the bed, bowl held out. He's managed pants for this excursion from the bedroom but that's all.] That bad?

[medals]

Can still sort of taste last nights dinner and I feel like I probably smell like gin.

[from a distance, close up: the kind of hangover that requires a sweat room and then six bath bombs. ] But the actual hangover hasn't hit yet, so.

[prettier]

So lunch is going to be fun.

[Here, take your sick bucket, woman. Freddie gets close enough to examine her condition for himself.]

...I can run you a shower if you like. I've got five minutes.

[medals]

[small grabby hands as she takes it and then, head lolling somewhere on the mattress,] Wouldn't dream of keeping you from your morning shag. [#stilldrunk]

[prettier]

Yeah well, he's making himself beautiful, first.

[ie: John's wandered into the bathroom, probably for a piss, and doesn't yet know Freddie's awake or making plans.]

Could take a while.

[medals]

Mmm. Has to carefully trim his nose hairs. Or somethin'.

[there is a lot of twisting on Jem's part as she seeks out parts of the bed that are especially cold: a grunt comes from somewhere under the covers, which probably means she just heeled petre in the groin, but it's christmas. who cares. ]

You look horrifically and unfairly fine.

[prettier]

I'm always unfairly fine.

[He puts a hand out, waiting for Jem to finish wriggling before testing the heat of her sweaty forehead. The third lump in the bed gets a mildly concerned glance when it doesn't stir after being kicked.]

He's not dead, is he?

[medals]

Course he's not dead, he's immortal.

[a suspicously quiet immortal, but nontheless. ] And I've got a hangover coming, not the flu.