eames (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
signatures) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2011-06-30 08:01 pm
signatures) wrote in tampered2011-06-30 08:01 pm
[ OPEN ]
When; Midnight, the 29th into the 30th.
Rating; R...? I'm so bad at rating things. Drug use, obviously. Also inevitable nudity, I think, with this group.
Characters; Eames, Dulcie, Angela, and any other of the counsellors that want to join them! Posting order is up in the air. WHATEVS. GIVE NO FUCKS. Whomever. Go for it. Threadjack. Make with it.
Summary; Poetry reading. Book club. Every other metaphor under the sun for toking up behind the canoe shelter.
Log;
[ Eames feels more than a little ridiculous, waiting behind the canoe shelter as the watch on his right wrist tells him it's getting closer to midnight. Next time, he really ought to pick the location for himself, rather than out on the beach - though, granted, he supposes the sand would be well enough of a guard against Saya, who'd rather not sink with her heels in any sort of soft ground. He has to wonder if this is anything near normal, for camps, but then decides he doesn't particularly care. Between this and the occasional bout of cards with Rupert, Eames is having an easy enough time settling on with his community service. He either has the best parole officer and judge combination or potentially worst - but it benefits him, so he can't complain that perhaps in the grand scope of things he got off a little easy.
But money laundering isn't exactly all that serious, is it?
Right.
Anyway.
He shuffles on his feet, sandals hanging from two fingers of his hand tucked beneath the thong of them. Toes digging into the soft sand, still retaining the heat of the day, he waits for the others to arrive. More importantly, Dulcie - but anyone else was a welcome brand of company, anyway, so long as they were the proper sorts of counsellors. Or, at least, knew how to keep their mouths shut. ]
Rating; R...? I'm so bad at rating things. Drug use, obviously. Also inevitable nudity, I think, with this group.
Characters; Eames, Dulcie, Angela, and any other of the counsellors that want to join them! Posting order is up in the air. WHATEVS. GIVE NO FUCKS. Whomever. Go for it. Threadjack. Make with it.
Summary; Poetry reading. Book club. Every other metaphor under the sun for toking up behind the canoe shelter.
Log;
[ Eames feels more than a little ridiculous, waiting behind the canoe shelter as the watch on his right wrist tells him it's getting closer to midnight. Next time, he really ought to pick the location for himself, rather than out on the beach - though, granted, he supposes the sand would be well enough of a guard against Saya, who'd rather not sink with her heels in any sort of soft ground. He has to wonder if this is anything near normal, for camps, but then decides he doesn't particularly care. Between this and the occasional bout of cards with Rupert, Eames is having an easy enough time settling on with his community service. He either has the best parole officer and judge combination or potentially worst - but it benefits him, so he can't complain that perhaps in the grand scope of things he got off a little easy.
But money laundering isn't exactly all that serious, is it?
Right.
Anyway.
He shuffles on his feet, sandals hanging from two fingers of his hand tucked beneath the thong of them. Toes digging into the soft sand, still retaining the heat of the day, he waits for the others to arrive. More importantly, Dulcie - but anyone else was a welcome brand of company, anyway, so long as they were the proper sorts of counsellors. Or, at least, knew how to keep their mouths shut. ]
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Who said I wanted to watch? [She shrugs.] You've seen two of them going at it, you've seen them all.
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[The joint gets passed to her and she quietly takes a pull, holding it out to him.]
Though, if I did watch you two, I'll be mentally measuring who's bigger than who.
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[He takes the offer and his second toke of the night, settling back on his elbows.]
I reckon we're around the same height.
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I wasn't talking about the vertical.
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Well, there are beds there and I'm kind of tired of having to sneak behind the mess hall for some privacy.