Send me a “Who?” and my Muse will forget yours.
White spots danced about Ramsay’s field of vision, blurring and obscuring his surroundings in a way that was more than a little unnerving to the bastard. He blinked instinctively and then winced in pain, as the slightest facial tic seemed to be capable of aggravating the swelling pain that now resonated from his temples. Like any bewildered animal, he reacted violently, staggering backwards and barely catching himself on the door frame, dirty nails digging into the wood.
As his sight slowly returned, he noted that he was likely in someone’s home, though surely not his own. It didn’t feel familiar in the slightest, from the shabby upholstery to the quaint smallness of it all to the smell of the place. Not to mention the stranger slouched in a ratty armchair who was currently eyeing him from across the room. Ramsay met his gaze with a careful stare, brow creasing in cautious distrust.
”…who the fuck are you?”
Will your Muse try to make them remember? Were they trying to get this to happen?
Having to take a few short cuts home (mainly through a few neighbors gardens), Robb managed to arrive home earlier than he ordinarily would have. Unsure as to whether anyone else would be home before he was and wishing dearly he’d just told Ramsay to bugger off in the first place, he climbed the stairs to his room and entered, closing the door behind him. His voice was low when he spoke, just in case anyone else was home as he took off his jacket. He brushed a small leaf off of the fabric.
“Didn’t wank on the bed, did you? I mean I didn’t give you very long to do it so if you did…”
Contrary to the threats made mere moments ago, Ramsay was very much fully clothed and lounging comfortably on Robb’s bed when the younger man burst through the door red-faced. Should he have been slower in his return home, it may have resulted in Ramsay making good on the promise, given its unsavory nature and his proclivity for actions of that sort. It would’ve been a reasonable enough excuse, in his mind, to warrant…well, no, there was really never any call for jizzing on someone’s sheets. Not that common courtesy mattered much to the bastard.
He greeted Robb with a vague half-nod, too preoccupied with studying the room in its entirety to shift his attention to its other occupant or to bother answering his question. Hooded eyes drifted past the dresser, glanced cursorily at the sparsely decorated walls, settling finally on the cracked window.
”Certainly took you long enough.”
(sms; bolton) ok two it is
[text: dogbreath]: good boy.
(sms; bolton) im not going to be there in two
(sms; bolton) be realistic
[text: dogbreath]: then i guess i’m going to have a wank on your sheets.
(sms; bolton) dont touch anything i’ll be like five more minutes
(sms; bolton) why me
[text: dogbreath]: make it two. i’m getting bored.
[text: dogbreath]: because you’re fascinating.
(sms; bolton) top of the stairs, first door you come to
(sms; bolton) dont go rifling around i have personal stuff in there
[text: dogbreath]: so i see…
(sms; bolton) yeah well
(sms; bolton) youre really creepy but let’s not resort to name calling
[text: dogbreath]: fair enough.
[text: dogbreath]: which room is yours?
(sms; bolton) theres a bigish rock next to the fence in the front garden
(sms; bolton) keys under there
[text: dogbreath]: you’re so predictable.