(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
As he suspected he would, Jim caught Sherlock's - heh, Rory's - stupid bloody cold. He went to bed angry, frustrated, and sick to the back teeth of this entire bloody bar.

He wakes up with a Welsh accent, a body that feels weirdly exhausted, and a whooooole lot of surprise at finding himself in a bedroom that is not wallpapered in Laura Ashley, cluttered with years' worth of books and theatre junk. Gethin has never set foot in a room so opulent, and so incomprehensible to him. He spends a good hour looking at the clothes, the books, the...frankly pornographic, yet extremely beautiful...photography on the wall of the library (the centrepiece of which involves his own face, and the blurred figure of a much taller man in the background. He doesn't look at it for long.) Everything is very, very weird.

In short, Gethin Roberts does not have a bloody clue what's going on. But at least there are clothes he recognises - comfortably 80s in style - and if the cold he's got means he can't go searching Jonathan out, at least there appears to be a...bar, downstairs?

What. The Actual. Hell. 


[OOC: getting in under the wire! Open until the end of March. :)]

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

'Yeah, of course.'

There does seem to be something going around, and he knows Emcee was recently shot. He should definitely rest up.

'It was really nice meeting you. Good luck, okay? Stay safe, if you can.'

[i_am_your_host]

"Likewise," he replies with a nod and a small but warm smile, "and thank you, I will. I wish you the same as well."

He takes his thermos of tea and begins to head off when he adds, "Perhaps we'll meet again some time."

And with that he turns toward the stairs. A part of him still nags at him, making him wonder if for all this time, he'd been talking to Jim. But he doesn't dwell on it. A long nap in a warm bed is in order.

[ooc: This was fabulous. Thank you!]

[just_cant_lose]

[OOC: it was perfection, thanks so much for tagging! <3]