Not sober. Last night wasn't what I expected at all. I hurt. I ache. I crave. I have been denied, been unfulfilled, been frustrated. So frustrated.

Torian... behave. No fresh cuts, you lucky bitch.

Puppy... amusingly enough, no, you didn't fulfill your gasped, growled, purred promise last night. Not enough cash in the bank, hm? We'll talk. Last night was.... interesting. And I remember enough of it to want a nice, long, chat with you. Skeletons in the closet, little one.

Becca... sorry we've been spectacularly bad at being in touch, this is likely to continue for at least a week. *sigh*

I'm going back to my lime froth.

Oh, and Scott of the red hair and godzilla obsession? We need to talk.