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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-02-07 11:31 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME 005

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the any event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: spiders, aphrodisiac and truth serum effects, public nudity, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, social pressure, and animal sacrifice.

If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.

FAQSETTINGCALENDARRESERVESAPPLICATIONS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin.

Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards reemerging after a long winter. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, will lead people towards the first signs of civilisation, the cabins of those who choose to live beyond Rubilyskoye's formidable walls.

In the forest, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.



Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. It's already full of people who appeared in the village just as you did today.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time asking questions in the common areas. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. Maybe you'll get lucky and run into someone who has decided to move out? (Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements; at this point, many characters have used activity rewards to move to accomodation outside the boarding house.)


Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with a breakfast of thick grain porridge and caramelised bananas from the new peaks; these NPCs can also answer any questions about the situation. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. Gossip about new arrivals spreads quickly, and Rubeans who run businesses or train trades are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing, being offered work, asking questions over breakfast, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



HEARTS FESTIVAL

New arrivals to Rubilykskoye will find themselves strongly encouraged to participate in the current zadza purging festival, and will be assigned either a collar in leather or iron based on their Niez or Wilk mark, or a wrist-strap or manacle that suits the attachment of a leash for those with a Diabel or Skala mark.

Characters are encouraged to embrace this temporary designation as a sign that they will be good citizens; those who object or ignore their designation may find the NPCs try to helpfully guide them, express displeasure at "Void-Touched" who won't assimilate, or in rare cases exert social pressure, coercion, violence or shunning to ensure compliance.

Throughout town various NPCs have set up tents and booths to host myriad performances, workshops, demonstrations, and food stands for their celebration. The foods were made using some of the new flora that have brought back from the peaks. Characters can get their hands on the following heart-themed foods from the second day of the festival onwards:

  • HEART-SHAPED COOKIES: eating these intensifies body heat, making characters a great cuddle buddy for the cold weather and likely to strip down, feeling overheated even in a snowdrift

  • BEEF HEART STEW WITH DUXELLES: eating these fills those who consume it with confidence, making them more solicitous and dominant

  • LIME-GLAZED GOAT HEART SATAY: eating these intensifies sensation, making characters more sensitive to both pain and pleasure

  • CINNAMON GLUWEIN: drinking a cup of this hot beverage will make characters especially honest

The nature of the booths set up for performances, workshops, and other goods focuses around the festival's dominance and submission themes. These persist throughout the day regardless of the hour or the audience, so very few people can be found consistently at their places of work during the day this week. In addition:
  • Skala and diabel NPCs may offer to share their partner(s) with the Void-touched, or ask to share theirs.

  • PIOTR, a farmer, brings tools over from the farm including bridles and saddles, which can be found at a booth near some hunters who've made anal plugs that end with real animal tails, as well as muzzles.

  • The cages from the Moot Hall have been moved into the streets, and people are allowed to move freely in and out of them. One of them has been covered in curtains to function as a glory hole booth.

  • Some niez and wilk NPCs line up near the main event stage and kneel to offer themselves as human furniture.

However, characters may also come across some carnival games operated by NPCs who are eager to help the Duchess find her heart! Some involve slaughtering livestock by removing their hearts—rest assured, these livestock were already on the menu, but their ritual sacrifice will now involve the cutting out of their hearts. Cut out an animal's heart yourself, or just attend the show! Many of the townspeople will get into it, painting their faces with animal blood or drinking from it.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try reacting to being assigned a dominant or submissive role, scenes where your character is starting to feel the effects of the food, watching (or participating in) a performance, or joining in on a gory animal sacrifice. NPCs that are usually welcoming may strongly pressure even new arrivals to participate in their cultural festivities.


the fathomless dark

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.


Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you — people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!


HIDING INSIDE EACH OF US

Uh oh spaghetti-os.

The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.


Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

someone else transforms
Poor Merta Chesnokov, the usually stalwart older woman who mans the Apothecary, has been beset by unusual requests in addition to her regular demands, not to mention sweating blood. The festival, a rash of skala blood flu, and a little extra town chaos in January, has brought a high demand to her little shop. Now there's also a local fashion springing up for teas and herbal remedies sourced from the recently revealed tropical mountains.

After another failed tisane test drive, and the third customer asking for a new kind of aphrodisiac to add to their festival food, she was seen tossing down her work knife with uncharacteristic frustration, and taking an "early lunch" that she didn't return from that night. Though her children, friends and employees reach out to her, there's no sign of her until you stumble upon her in the woods.

Merta overboils with her suppressed fury as her body distorts and her flesh blackens and crusts. Her attempts to hold off her transformation have failed, and Merta turns into a Smoldering Skink, a large repillian creature whose thick scales hold back her magmatic insides. The noise she makes is an unhearthly hissing scream like a boiling kettle, and she attempts to vent her pent-up stress by wildly attacking everything in sight. Immediately, the surroundings catch aflame! There will be a small fire eating at the dead wood of a long winter if it's not put out, but your first priority might have to be fielding a stampeding lizard with massive teeth and burning hot scales...

(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)


you waited too long
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
seastag: (pic#16992930)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-10 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ A golden princess, her princess, more lovely than Parisa understands. Gala doesn't realize the glimpses of Gilia that Parisa gets from her, that she's gazing into her mind and memories at all, admittedly, so there's no defense in place, not there.

There, it's just her princess.

It's just her yearning, a feeling that's followed her for years, a feeling that's threatened to swallow her whole for nearly as long, and an ache she fears she won't ever be able to dull. An ache she's tried to be rid of anyway. It would be easy to blame the swirling effects of what she's indulged in for the state of her now, eager not only to please but to dedicate herself to the first woman who, for whatever reason, just fucking chooses her.

But it wouldn't be entirely true. The truth is...

Gala's heart aches more now than before, broken in new places. She isn't a jealous woman, it isn't even jealousy, exactly, that plagues her now, just- finding her princess here, with three partners she's fallen for in less than a year, knowing still she can never be one of those lovers lest she break her pact to protect her, restricted by duty and culture, is more than she can bear. Touch-starved and desperate for someone to look at her, only her, if only for a night, leads her so easily to Parisa now, happy on her knees before her, obedient and wanting, breathing in every word as though the sound of her voice sustains her very being - is it any wonder, then, when Gala parts her lips for her? When the tip of her tongue moves to taste her? When it turns into a kiss, delicate against her fingertips? ]


It's yours, my artist. My body.
pharmacy: (057)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-10 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
I said you could put it in, not-- [ He stops short with a disgruntled little hum as her hands settle on his shoulders. ] Look, I could just--leave, if you're all revved up to go, I don't have to be here.
madaboutit: (Anim head shake no)

[personal profile] madaboutit 2024-02-10 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh, thank fuck.

The woman isn't familiar, but the fact that she's been in Gilia's service is a relief on multiple levels. Gilia will be safer, and it will be good for her to have someone who can truly understand her in ways that bring her comfort. There's the echo of a nod while he's adapting to the new information. But then she makes her query, and he stills.

Now that...that's a complicated question.

One with a relatively simple answer, even if it's one that only skims the surface.]


Most folk call me Sweeney.
ghostface: the red road (2014) (pic#16564424)

[personal profile] ghostface 2024-02-10 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
oh, in that case, ladies first.

let me guess, chopped up into little pieces? set on fire to unspoil my spoiled soul and body? strung up with my guts all out? take your pick, charles baudelaire. if you surprise me, i'll cut off my dick and mount it for you.
minuteofangle: (023)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-10 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
I can make a minute or two between the orgies and ritual bloodletting. What’d I call you?
minuteofangle: (032)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-10 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
awfully judgey for a stalker, aren’t you?
pharmacy: (019)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-10 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
"You're first home here. You'll probably end up sharing a room for...I dunno, I stayed with my roommate for about three months before I worked out a new space with my boss." He gestures loosely down the way. They aren't far, but--she'll see that soon enough, and the distance isn't the most important thing to pass along. "It can get a little tight, but it's nice. There's always food--not a lot, but it's always there. And there's always people. 

"Void-touched, is what they call us. The people pulled from our own dimensions. At the boarding house, you're gonna make friends, and you need friends.
pharmacy: (054)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-10 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
you like them sweet and stupid, got it

lol no my mom left when I was little, but I was pretty close with her sacred heart medallion
idk like a security blanket or sth
pharmacy: (149)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-10 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
Suspicious ass. Suspicious acting, as he sets his drink down. Suspicion nursing, with as wary as he is of just shaking hands. The question saves Ransom from being teased about it, redirecting Quentin's slightly toasted energy to something more productive. His eyebrows jump conspiratorially. "I mean like...fuck-or-die heavy duty. I mean like you can't--you can't think unless you've got your hands on someone. Like it's impossible to come down for--I dunno, depends on how much you have, but I mean heavy duty enough."
dynatox: (terry // 054)

[personal profile] dynatox 2024-02-10 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
Terry's hands are scarred and callused and he's something of a well-bred gentleman himself, so he thinks nothing of it.

"It's in pretty deep," he says, "I just have to massage it out and then I should be able to take hold of it. This'll hurt a bit."

It'd be easier if he had tweezers, but he'll make do.
dynatox: (terry // 115)

[personal profile] dynatox 2024-02-10 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
I could run circles around these youngsters.

[ And by his tone, he's not kidding. He's cocky enough to think he can get the upper hand on most of them. ]
dynatox: (terry // 053)

[personal profile] dynatox 2024-02-10 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
Terry's pleased with that response, but he doesn't show it. It'd look strange if he were too pleased about this.

"We're pretty close, it won't be much further to walk," he says, "I'm Terry, by the way. Praetor of the City Watch."
veraz: (hair back; sun in eyes)

[personal profile] veraz 2024-02-10 05:14 am (UTC)(link)
"Most people don't know it, unless they've been familiar with Boston, I guess." Now she's babbling, she should maybe slow down or something.
veraz: (hair back; :/)

[personal profile] veraz 2024-02-10 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
He ducks into the water, obscuring himself from Marta's line of sight after he pulls away; gives her time to roll her shoulders back and lift her chin. Take in the details of unfamiliar materials worked into unfamiliar patterns and motifs. Part of her brain wants to ignore it; Marta is well aware that she's been actively losing her shit because of what she couldn't ignore.

But.

If Ransom is here she has to pay attention. Has to be present, in this reality. She can't just check out.

Marta frowns. Ransom has reemerged, water clinging to his eyelashes. Staring at her.

This unfairly pretty trainwreck of a man.

She has no idea what her face is doing by the time Ransom has nudged her closer, but she scoots up against him without a moment's pause. She trusts him; he doesn't like that.

"It's like... a fairytale."

The old world kind. From back before satellites, and ordinary people believing they knew everything about anything.

"I did not fuck up your life the first time." Nothing in Marta's body language changes; she's deflecting with the truth, in the way she does. "You have to stop blaming me for Harlan's schemes. It's like he was asking to become a murder mystery."
gunshooting: (10)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-10 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
Look at that. Fabric that isn't see-through.

But still, she hesitates to take it.

"You aren't going to need it?"

Where is all this kindness coming from?

He's just a man, she knows. Maybe he'd come from the kind of ordinary the rest of Hawkins had enjoyed until the moment the seams holding the world together split just enough to let the Upside-Down come leaking through. Maybe this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.

Still, when she reaches out to catch hold of the hem, it's not to tug it from his grip. Only test the fabric between her fingers while she waits for his answer.
gunshooting: (9)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-10 06:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Why not go first?"

Flat, stubborn.

Is she interested? Maybe. Not necessarily in the acts themselves, but the reasoning behind them. All these villagers, their expectations. Nancy has questions, and she couldn't tolerate sitting on her heels waiting for answers to come to her. There wasn't another option open to her in the immediate, even if she's starting to think that very few of those answers are going to be found here in the midst of this festival.

But even so, even if this isn't a trial, even if it isn't Hawkins, she knows better than to step into a cage and put herself at the mercy of someone else's good graces.
dadyl: (o50 ;; twd: daryl dixon)

[personal profile] dadyl 2024-02-10 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
They do that too.

[ Fifty (stupid name, he thinks) deserves to know that detail as much as any new arrival but if anything, the herbs they slip into the food and drinks here make the requirements of their stay go down easier. Certainly for Daryl. ]

But just to get people to fuck. They got one thing on the brain here. That and the Duchess.

[ There's sharpness in how he says her title but Daryl doesn't linger on it. He puts his knives away and then eyes the man. ]

You takin' a turn?
gunshooting: (1)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-10 06:55 am (UTC)(link)
With a hand hooked around Quentin's waist, Nancy allows him to steer. Considers the time he's talking about. Months and months of stability, in a place that feels both familiar as home and as strange as one of Mike's campaign settings.

"I'm sorry," she offers in response, followed almost immediately by, "You've been here alone?"

This isn't a trial. The feeling wasn't right for it, she knows. But the question comes regardless: he'd been alone here, without anyone to rely on, in case of—

Something. Nancy isn't certain what. She isn't even sure it's not an unfair assumption, thinking the worst is lurking just beneath the surface of this party around them.
gunshooting: (4)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-10 06:59 am (UTC)(link)
Warning acknowledged, as unneeded as it might be. Nancy glances through the open door as well, shakes her head. Pivots away from the topic into an introduction imparted under excessively strange circumstances.

"I'm Nancy," she offers, crossing her arms over her chest. The fabric of the robe shimmers under that tiny movement. "Is anyone you recognize here?"

There's always a chance she was just the first to make it to the boarding house. That there are familiar faces, they just haven't arrived yet.
drysdale: (greatnews084)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-10 07:14 am (UTC)(link)
"You think I don't know I gave the old bastard exactly what he wanted?" he snaps, though it's tempered by weariness. He doesn't want to talk about Harlan, or even her part in it, which — there's plenty he could say, plenty he knows about her regrets, that he could rejoinder with just to hurt her. But it's not why he'd asked.

He's just trying to distract her, he guesses. His body is slightly tense against her side, around her shoulders, but it has been since he came in, and how would she be able to tell the difference anyway?

"A fairytale. So, what, Fate with a capital 'F'?" She must know what he'd think of that idea, so he only bothers injecting it with minimal scorn.
Edited 2024-02-11 22:10 (UTC)
dadyl: (o12 ;; twd: daryl dixon)

[personal profile] dadyl 2024-02-10 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
There's never any telling who anyone is here, not until they reveal themselves when the stakes are at their highest, but the way this stranger greets his dog has Daryl slow to reach for dangerous assumptions. He sees the look on his face and he can't help but give the two of them a minute. Daryl would never have been able to smile like that on his first day here, he isn't about to break it up now that he's seen how welcome her attention is.

He'd brought the runt home with him for much the same reasoning. Forget everything practical - dogs are just good for the lift.

"Yeah. Guess she is now." He makes a clucking sound at her with his tongue when she tries to jump again, at least scolding her for that much. "She wouldn't have made it through the cold snap at the lodge, so I brought her home." There are more reasons than that, many more, but that had been the first one. "We're tryin' to get her answerin' to Ginger."
drysdale: (greatnews312)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-10 07:40 am (UTC)(link)
As suspicious of that as anything else. He's a believe it when I see it, and even then kind of guy, and—

"So far it's sounding to me like someone built a castle on an island to play out their elaborate fantasies. Granted," Ransom gestures at the whole goddamn ass castle, "it's impressive, but it's also complete bullshit."
unorthodoc: (pic#16676192)

[personal profile] unorthodoc 2024-02-10 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ To House's ears, Gotham reads like Chicago, which doesn't really surprise him given the scars and muscles. It's clear this guy grew up in a tough place, which also explains the question.

House shrugs and reaches down to start the golf cart's engine again.
]

Just don't turn into anything horrifying on the way into town. I just had this thing serviced. And when you get into town, if anyone mentions a stolen goat, you don't know anything about it.
unorthodoc: (pic#16473912)

panfandom rp brings us many blessings

[personal profile] unorthodoc 2024-02-10 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
I'm good.

[ The big guy is clearly uncomfortable, which means House is even less likely to take the hint and leave. In fact, he resumes eating his nuts -- ironic -- and apparently settles in to continue observing the scene. The town slut in question seems to be wondering what the problem is. House meets her confused glance and shrugs as if to say, I don't know, maybe he's a dud.

Helpfully, he leans forward again, to impart some important advice.
]

Don't stop on my account. Her husband likes it when she has an audience. [ He waves over at the man in question. ] So does she. Pretty good, right? She likes it when you slap her ass. Go on. Don't be shy.
lazarused: (Default)

[personal profile] lazarused 2024-02-10 11:57 am (UTC)(link)
I’m pretty sure you did.

[He leans in a little.]

You’re famous.

[it should be noted that he is backing up without lifting his knife.]