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Tim and Jools
Jan. 17th, 2010 12:51 pmAfter exhausting his paint ball supply, Tim comes into the bar, careful to stomp the snow off of his boots. Intending to stop off at Bar for a drink, he’s instead distracted.
By himself.
No, that’s ridiculous. But whoever he is, he looks like he’s in a bad way. Tim carefully approaches his double, who seems to have passed out on one of the sofas. And not in a, 'I think I rather fancy a nap right now' sort of way.
“Oi, mate,” he says cautiously. “You all right?”
He waits a few moments, and when the guy doesn’t respond, Tim rubs his knuckle into Jools’ sternum, and doesn’t stop.
“Come on. Wake up,” Tim coaxes.
Jools finally stirs, trying to push Tim off, but Tim doesn’t stop until his eyes are open.
“You all right?” he repeats.
Jools just shrugs.
“You got a name?” Tim tries.
Jools tells him, and then cringes, his own words buzzing in his skull.
“You’re looking pretty poorly,” Tim says, concerned. “You got a room here?”
Jools nods, and starts to fall back asleep. Worried about what might happen if he does, Tim lightly slaps his face – not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention.
“Stay with me,” he says. He starts digging through Jools’ pockets, eventually finding what he was looking for – a room key. “What room you in.”
Jools mutters something about a fire extinguisher. After a few moments trying to figure out what to do, he leaves Jools where he found him, and rushes over to Bar. After ascertaining the location of Jools’ room, he leaves a note behind.
“Come on, mate,” he says, hefting Jools up to his feet. “Get you off the floor.”
Tim supports Jools’ weight as he takes the boy upstairs, eventually finding the room next to the fire extinguisher. Opening the door with Jools’ key, which he slides back into the kid’s pocket, he leads his double over to the bed, lying him down on his stomach. He then takes off Jools’ shoes and jacket – both of which are soaked – and sets them near the foot of the bed, before letting himself out.
By himself.
No, that’s ridiculous. But whoever he is, he looks like he’s in a bad way. Tim carefully approaches his double, who seems to have passed out on one of the sofas. And not in a, 'I think I rather fancy a nap right now' sort of way.
“Oi, mate,” he says cautiously. “You all right?”
He waits a few moments, and when the guy doesn’t respond, Tim rubs his knuckle into Jools’ sternum, and doesn’t stop.
“Come on. Wake up,” Tim coaxes.
Jools finally stirs, trying to push Tim off, but Tim doesn’t stop until his eyes are open.
“You all right?” he repeats.
Jools just shrugs.
“You got a name?” Tim tries.
Jools tells him, and then cringes, his own words buzzing in his skull.
“You’re looking pretty poorly,” Tim says, concerned. “You got a room here?”
Jools nods, and starts to fall back asleep. Worried about what might happen if he does, Tim lightly slaps his face – not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention.
“Stay with me,” he says. He starts digging through Jools’ pockets, eventually finding what he was looking for – a room key. “What room you in.”
Jools mutters something about a fire extinguisher. After a few moments trying to figure out what to do, he leaves Jools where he found him, and rushes over to Bar. After ascertaining the location of Jools’ room, he leaves a note behind.
“Come on, mate,” he says, hefting Jools up to his feet. “Get you off the floor.”
Tim supports Jools’ weight as he takes the boy upstairs, eventually finding the room next to the fire extinguisher. Opening the door with Jools’ key, which he slides back into the kid’s pocket, he leads his double over to the bed, lying him down on his stomach. He then takes off Jools’ shoes and jacket – both of which are soaked – and sets them near the foot of the bed, before letting himself out.
