Drinking Games


Who: Camber and any others who want to join in
When: late
Where: That damn room.

Cam was lying on the couch; two hours of restless frustration after talking to Everett had uncovered nothing but that creepy-ass mask, her roommate's hidden stash of cheap Polish vodka, and two layers of skin off her knuckles from trying to take out various surfaces.

Well, her roomie wasn't going to miss the vodka.

She was exhausted, and pissed off. Everett wasn't talking, which meant he was probably drinking. She really wanted to go to sleep, but she wasn't sleepy, although she guessed the scientists would probably have something to say about that sooner or later; she strongly doubted that they all fell asleep every night out of their own volition. She'd pulled too many allnighters and kept nocturnal schedules for long enough that she didn't particularly believe her internal clock had started shutting down at midnight.

She missed Jesse. Which was stupid, but mostly she just didn't want to be alone right now and Jesse was, well, good for that in a variety of ways. She'd have taken "stupid banter". This trapped business sucked. The computers were quiet: Everett wasn't talking, which meant he had probably fucked off to go get drunk somewhere, and Brett was sort of a man of few words, and she felt like she'd bothered Bri enough today.

But she was bored, and lonely, and trapped-feeling, and if she'd actually been in Chicago she'd have gone out to go see some loud local show, preferably at some tiny bar where half the regulars spoke mostly Polish and looked a little confused about what was going on, but that was that and this was this.

She went to the monitors and typed the same message to each computer.

All right, bitches. I'm bored and I've got vodka. Go pick your poison, I don't care if it's soda.

Oh, and you have to tell me when you drink or it's no fun.
Never have I ever...been arrested.

(Oh, and I'm drinking on that one. See how this works? Your turn.)

 - .

Brett heard the sound from the computer and headed over to check, anticipating an update. It took him a moment or two to figure out what he was looking at and he had to laugh a little, though it was laughter born of being far too fucking tense all day. He massaged his temples for a moment, then shook his head, heading back to 'camp'.

Half a hour later and there was nothing. He was alone, it was too quiet. None of the computers were saying shit - and anyway, there were only two he wanted to hear from, and one of those wasn't speaking to him. He knew there was alcohol in with the food stores they'd given him. Brett only drank on occasion, because he hated the thought of humiliating himself even more than he already did just by being what he was now. But nobody could see him here. Hunting out the bottle of Jack, he headed back to the computer, taking a swig from the bottle, before tucking it down at his side so he could message back.

Drinking there.

He sent that, pausing before writing anything more. He knew this game, he knew how it worked. Did he really want to give that much information about himself out? Even if it was a fucking good way to get drunk? He took another swig from the bottle and shot off another message. Never have I ever got a tattoo. Drinking. That was a safe, obvious one.

 - .

Got about a third of a bottle of scotch in here. Need to make it last to keep me awake, so I can keep Eris awake, so you can let Brett know. Speaking of, she just checked in a bit ago. I mention how much I hate this shit? I skipped a drink there, got a clean arrest record. So let's see. I've never... smoked dope. Yeah, drinking there. Who's with me?

He hit send to bounce it back to Camber, sighing a little. Lying was no good, but a promise was a promise. Now all he had to do was stay awake all night to keep the cover up.