[There's a passel of teenagers surrounding the sleeping drunkard. Seventeen-abouts, and here was all the evidence you needed that twenty one still should be limit to legal vice: they were stacking a house of cards on the lush's back.
Hilarious, but awful. Objectively awful. The guy's been so still the paper's not given so much as a chilly quiver.
Richie'd finished a date about half a pint ago. Local girl. Most of the refugees ran too raw, too strange a tapestry laying out their histories to make him try getting further than dances at the Gala. She'd enjoyed herself but had early work the next morning, and left him to finish his beer solo. If it hadn't been for Miss Doe Eyes and her sweet lips on his, he might have spotted the nonsense before they'd gotten out of hand.
Richie watches them place a card at the top, frowning. One of them is pulling out a pen and takes the business end to the man's cheek.
Enough.
He strolls over, face set in mild-mannered niceties. When he hits the table the hoodlums look up. He gives them a grin and sticks a finger in the middle of the masterpiece.
It flops down around the drunk's sleeping form, smothering his face and censoring the freshly drawn dick.].
3
Hilarious, but awful. Objectively awful. The guy's been so still the paper's not given so much as a chilly quiver.
Richie'd finished a date about half a pint ago. Local girl. Most of the refugees ran too raw, too strange a tapestry laying out their histories to make him try getting further than dances at the Gala. She'd enjoyed herself but had early work the next morning, and left him to finish his beer solo. If it hadn't been for Miss Doe Eyes and her sweet lips on his, he might have spotted the nonsense before they'd gotten out of hand.
Richie watches them place a card at the top, frowning. One of them is pulling out a pen and takes the business end to the man's cheek.
Enough.
He strolls over, face set in mild-mannered niceties. When he hits the table the hoodlums look up. He gives them a grin and sticks a finger in the middle of the masterpiece.
It flops down around the drunk's sleeping form, smothering his face and censoring the freshly drawn dick.].