driftfleet | video but mostly audio (LEAVE THE KIDS AT HOME WE WERE NSFW)

[Happy V-Day, everyone! Sam has been unfortunately busy this weekend. You know, working at the bars, getting convinced by certain stoner semi-angels to partake in a quick bar-hop. Or three. Or five. Also, what the fuck was in that Space Race drink? Because he felt just fine after the first hour, but then he went down like a sack of potatoes.

The black screen leaves a lot to the imagination, so far. Sam gives a tired, hungover groan and slaps around for the built-in alarm he'd set in the communications device, which is probably murderous on your guys' ears at first. When he grabs for it and peers to look at the time listed, the broadcast gives a good look at him in all of his glory -- who knew someone could have so many hickeys at once?]

Wha...

[He stares up at the ceiling, blinking wearily. This isn't... the ship...

But surely nothing crazy happened, he thinks. Just drank a little too much. He's usually super chaste and all, and it's not like he'd...

And then three blue arms reach out from the right side of the bed, curling over his chest.]

Awake already, gangly human...?

[And another copper-skinned arm reaches to pet his hair from his left. A few interesting memories resurface from the night before.]

Surprisingly durable to make up for your poor tolerance to alcohol, mmhmm.

[Sam's eyes widen rather comedically as he shoots up from the bed, dropping the video feed flat on its face again. The sounds of him shuffling back sounds close to the microphone, and there are quite a few giggling ladies, and it really makes you wonder how many are actually fitting in that bed. Judging from the way Sam is tripping over his words, he's probably floundering. Let your imaginations be your guide.]

Jesus -- what the -- I, um, sorry. I -- Wow, right. I should, should really be -- ohmygod, uh. You guys were all great, seriously, but I... Have a shift in three hours... I should...!!

[More giggling at the sound of rustling pants.]

Wow, Sam, you've gone so red; I didn't know humans could change colors! What a fascinating species.

[One of the human girls in the crowd laughs aloud.] Nah, he just goes from animal to nervous school boy in one morning flat.

Thank you for your time, ladies--

Don't you want to stay for breakfast? I know how to make pancakes!

That's really nice but--[He's just about now realizing that the feed is going, and he's too distracted to notice that he's about to trip right over someone's body on the floor.]--OOF!!

[The video THUDS, pointing at a wall. This is the most PG feed detailing a NC-17 night ever. A familiar voice -- the source of Sam's tripping -- smacks his lips while a background cacophony of the gals and guys littered around the room gossip and giggle and exchange ship names. Sam is dumbstruck.]

How many people are there?!

Ah. Morning, Sam.

Cas!?

Slow your roll, buddy, there's plenty of time for round two and three--

Ugh... Not this again...

--or four or five...

M'gonna be sick...... What was in that Space Racer...

[This is the worst.

Happy Valentine's Day.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... What?

[Dude, I'm too hungover and focused on fifty million people looking at my shame to piece that together right now.]

[Slowly. As if speaking to...well a super hungover person. ]

Did you knock any of them up?

What? No, of course not! Jesus.

[He rubs a hand over his face, looking a bit paler.]

I'm not like that.

Luckily for you I know you enough to find that statement somewhat believable.

But right now, the number of barely dressed lady aliens suggests otherwise.