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oo3. i'm gonna drink myself to death
back; harder and harder to breathe
[ locked to RED Pyro

[Goddammit, why does he keep waking up in unfamiliar beds? With the grace of a wingless bird, he slings his legs over the side of the bed and gets to his feet. His eyes scan the room and find very, very odd things: a candle lit dinner, a mini bar, a giant, red, lush bed...

Oh jesus. That's not who he thinks it is, is it? And in this place of all places? This looks like a, a...

His first instincts throw him at the door, but no matter how he pulls and tugs and smashes into it, it won't budge. And man, is he starting to sweat. What the fuck is he wearing, anyway?

Oh, god. A tux. What the fuck is wrong with this fucking town?]

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Sorry... [She drinks the dregs and tosses the bottle. Pyro tries to sit up but ends up falling over the other way. She's on the floor now.]

Well, there's th'alcohol, I don' think that's'll be runn'n' out soon, think. Other, there's the bed'n'windows, 's it.


Mmn. [Pyro just makes a gurgling noise.]

Maybe we oughta call't'a night 'r'somethin'.

[Slumps against the wall, sliding a bit.]

Night, Red.

Night, Blue.

[She passes out.]

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