Post by Michelle Mackenzie (Admin) on Nov 19, 2015 22:53:19 GMT 1
Mitchell Rein stared down at his small glass, cupped between his hands.
The shot was wasn't from a alcoholic bottle, though he wish it had been.
The wind howled outside, and the halls whilstled through the small gaps of the Windows.
The black leather sofas and black glossy tables stood out in the center of the triangular room.
The rest of the room was filled with every colour you could think of.
"Same again, Andrew," Mitchell grumbled.
He watched as his friend downed several shots of peach flavoured vodkiss.
"You're missing the fun," George slurred, singing along to a tune that only he could hear.
"I highly doubt it," Mitchell replied, observing his friend.
"I don't. I'm having a great time, and look like a god." George cheered.
Rein almost laughed. "My friend, my only friend, you look like hell. Your clothes are practically falling off you. Your grey trousers and yellow buttoned shirt does not go well. Your eyes look so blood shot that I am suprised they're not bleeding, and your shoes... When did you take them off?" He asked, suddenly noticing his socked feet.
Rein sighed, knowing all to well how bad he looked. Neither of them had any hair left to lose. He was now so thin that his face looked gaunt. His own suit was scuffed and his top button had fallen off.
"At least I don't look like I am wearing the only clothes I own- you look like a homeless drunk."
Rein laughed, he had to or else he would cry.
"That, my friend is a half truth. I am indeed a drunk- my house is still in one piece though, unless this storm blows it down."
The shot was wasn't from a alcoholic bottle, though he wish it had been.
The wind howled outside, and the halls whilstled through the small gaps of the Windows.
The black leather sofas and black glossy tables stood out in the center of the triangular room.
The rest of the room was filled with every colour you could think of.
"Same again, Andrew," Mitchell grumbled.
He watched as his friend downed several shots of peach flavoured vodkiss.
"You're missing the fun," George slurred, singing along to a tune that only he could hear.
"I highly doubt it," Mitchell replied, observing his friend.
"I don't. I'm having a great time, and look like a god." George cheered.
Rein almost laughed. "My friend, my only friend, you look like hell. Your clothes are practically falling off you. Your grey trousers and yellow buttoned shirt does not go well. Your eyes look so blood shot that I am suprised they're not bleeding, and your shoes... When did you take them off?" He asked, suddenly noticing his socked feet.
Rein sighed, knowing all to well how bad he looked. Neither of them had any hair left to lose. He was now so thin that his face looked gaunt. His own suit was scuffed and his top button had fallen off.
"At least I don't look like I am wearing the only clothes I own- you look like a homeless drunk."
Rein laughed, he had to or else he would cry.
"That, my friend is a half truth. I am indeed a drunk- my house is still in one piece though, unless this storm blows it down."
