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He tries to look angry, but fails and starts laughing too. "I'm pantsless in a cemetary. I'm...superb. I didn't pack any clothes either....I'm a little cold." It's hard for him to sound sad because of how hard he's laughing. |
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Nichole walks over to Sam, linking one leg around his. "You know... The best way to generate body heat is to lay against somebody else naked..."
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Sam looks around. "In a...cemetary? Isn't that kind of...you know, disrespectful? ....and totally metal.." he says, kissing her passionately. As he's kissing her, he remembers he has no pants on and begins laughing again. "Sorry, it's just......this is way too funny." |
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Nichole can't help but laugh as well. "I feel like this is one of those things that could only happen to you, Sam..." She says, looking at him with love in her eyes.
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"Losing my pants in a graveyard? Just an everyday occurance for Sam-Man, Canadian superhero!" He looks around them. "This is actually really cool and creepy. Wanna explore?" |
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"Of course," Nichole says back, taking Sam's hand and walking with him. "God, look how old some of the graves are..." She says, pointing out one of a person who was born in the 1800's.
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Sam leans over and reads the tombstone. "R.I.P. Orville Dunworth - God Grante That He Lye Stille....what the fuck, did he die before english was invented?" he muses. A gust of wind blows through the cemetary and he shivers, his legs freezing cold. He shuffles a little closer to Nichole. |
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Nichole giggles and wraps her arms around Sam, trying to warm him up. "You poor thing..." She says, grinning up at him. "I bet you could fuck me on top of one of these tombstones... Wait, would that be psudo-necrophilia?"
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Sam thinks. "I would imagine it would be uncomfortable and a bit eerie. Plus, it's the kind of thing that gets you eaten by zombies in horror movies." |
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Nichole looks a little disappointed, but then shrugs. "Fine then... I guess you're afraid!" She walks over to another large tombstone, and bends over exaggeratedly so that her back is arched in a sexual pose.
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Sam looks around nervously, shuddering. "Can we at least find a tomb or something covered? This wind is getting real bad." |
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Nichole grins. "You want to go inside a mausoleum? Kinky!" She looks around the cemetary until she finds one in the distance. "There we go!"
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Sam follows Nichole and shakes his head. "You're going to be wishing you would've listened to me when we're getting eaten by zombies. You'll rue the day you didn't listen to Sam Fischer!" he shakes his fist in mock anger. |
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"At least we'll die doing something we love," She says back, coming up on the mausoleum. She jiggles the door to it, but there's a rusty lock on the front. She sleeps off her shoe and rams it into the lock, causing it to fall off. "We're in!"
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Sam opens the door and peers in. "Any ghosts in here?" he says, and hearing no reply, he walks in. He begins to deathgrowl in the darkness, "Satan, our unholy lord, we beseech thee! Let us have awesome sex in this den of darkness!" |
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"Ooh, you know how sexy I find it when you talk like that!" Nichole says, jumping up and wrapping her legs around Sam. She turns to one of the tombs next to her. "Don't look, you pervy dead body," She says to it with a wink.
OOC: I'm probably going to go to bed soon, so this is a good place to stop! YAY! Night, hun.
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ooc: night! don't let the bed bugs bite.
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Nichole wakes up on the floor of the crypt, her skirt pulled down to her ankles and her shirt off. Standing over her was the caretaker. "Um... Hi!" She says, trying to use her charm on him.
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Sam wakes up and sees Nichole and the Caretaker standing above him. "Uh....hi," he says, standing up and pulling his ripped pants on. "So, caretaker...ever had sex in a graveyard?" he says, praying that the caretaker didn't take his statement as a pick up line.
ooc: sorry about my absence. i'll probably be gone most of tomorrow - it's the final heave, i'm gonna officially move into the new house. wish me luck! |
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And then this time, Nichole woke up in jail. "I guess having sex in a graveyard is illegal in the state of Michigan... Thanks, al-Qaeda!' She moans, rolling over in her prison cot, and falling on to the floor.
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