Winn Schott (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-03-18 06:31 pm
winn) wrote in driftfleet2017-03-18 06:31 pm
07 - video
Who: Winn Schott + you = awesome
Broadcast: yup!
Action: Tourist!
When: now!
[ the feed opens with a profile view of a sleeping winn. on his face, you can see an elaborate sharpie painted mustache (courtesy of opal) and from the ceiling right above him hangs a plastic flamingo in a coat and plastic sunglasses (courtesy of cisco).
to anyone who's been by to see him lately, it's a very familiar scene. but seconds into it something that hasn't happened in about two weeks begins to take place - movement. with a soft groan, winn reaches a sluggish hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the light. the hand then seems to decide that scratching above his upper lip is better use of its time and skills. slowly, his eyes blink open, struggling to adjust, to focus.
and then they do. on that flamingo.
he yelps, jumping up in bed, tearing the flamingo off its strings and throws it across the room, where he proceeds to stare at an off frame army of (four) flamingos. rubbing at his temples he mutters just loudly enough to be captured on film ] So Cisco's still here...
[ that seems to remind him of something, and with a sharp move his still sleepy mind can't seem to properly cope with, grabs at the communicator and misses. next attempt brings it into his hand and you finally get a close up of that glorious mustache.
he frowns into the camera ]
Of course it's rolling... [ his voice is raw, lips chapped, and he clears his throat in an attempt to bring back his usual volume ] Hi - Fleeters - if we're still calling ourselves that - Winn Schott here, back to the world of the conscious - if you recognize me check in and tell me how long I've been out - Kitty - you better still be here. [ because unless you call him within the next 10 seconds he's calling you as soon as he cuts this feed and if you're not there he will freak. he rubs at his painted mustache again, not quite realizing what's bothering him, and with a small tired smile fumbles to shut the broadcast off. ]
Broadcast: yup!
Action: Tourist!
When: now!
[ the feed opens with a profile view of a sleeping winn. on his face, you can see an elaborate sharpie painted mustache (courtesy of opal) and from the ceiling right above him hangs a plastic flamingo in a coat and plastic sunglasses (courtesy of cisco).
to anyone who's been by to see him lately, it's a very familiar scene. but seconds into it something that hasn't happened in about two weeks begins to take place - movement. with a soft groan, winn reaches a sluggish hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the light. the hand then seems to decide that scratching above his upper lip is better use of its time and skills. slowly, his eyes blink open, struggling to adjust, to focus.
and then they do. on that flamingo.
he yelps, jumping up in bed, tearing the flamingo off its strings and throws it across the room, where he proceeds to stare at an off frame army of (four) flamingos. rubbing at his temples he mutters just loudly enough to be captured on film ] So Cisco's still here...
[ that seems to remind him of something, and with a sharp move his still sleepy mind can't seem to properly cope with, grabs at the communicator and misses. next attempt brings it into his hand and you finally get a close up of that glorious mustache.
he frowns into the camera ]
Of course it's rolling... [ his voice is raw, lips chapped, and he clears his throat in an attempt to bring back his usual volume ] Hi - Fleeters - if we're still calling ourselves that - Winn Schott here, back to the world of the conscious - if you recognize me check in and tell me how long I've been out - Kitty - you better still be here. [ because unless you call him within the next 10 seconds he's calling you as soon as he cuts this feed and if you're not there he will freak. he rubs at his painted mustache again, not quite realizing what's bothering him, and with a small tired smile fumbles to shut the broadcast off. ]
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