sommeil d'or

Send a '↺' to have my muse temporarily lose all memory of your muse.

Paula calmly made her way down the stairs, a sigh escaping her mouth. “Jesus, Paulie. Maybe you shoulda checked the tea b’fore checkin’ the drinks.” Of course, she was a bit drunk too, but not as drunk as the other McCartney. “Never moind, we can try again t’morrow, I guess.” Stifling a cough prompted by the smoke, she started her way upstairs.

Rolling his eyes in irritation with the other’s finger pointing commentary, Paul muttered a small note under his breath before heading to the incredibly cramped sitting room, giving a couple windows a budge upward to release some smoke. “Wasn’t checkin’ the drinks, but that’s a better assumption, I s’pose,” he huffed, which something that was practically a whisper before slumping against the sofa, extending his legs comfortably out affront himself and fixing his eyes on the television screen. At least that was something to relax his high pulse rate. 

Paula took a quiet seat at the other end of the couch. “Ah, well, still, three hours is a relatively long time, eh? Anoth’r ten minutes an’ the entire place would’ve gone up in flames.” The Beatlette rashly imitated a fire with her hands. “Quite unfortunate. Eppy would be rather angry at us both if that happened.”

"Hell, I'm Sure Brian isn't happy with a melted kettle and ruined half of the stove, either way," Paul complained before sinking more-so into the back of the sofa, doe eyes fixing a bit lower in a half-focused daze. Really, Brian was much easier on the boys than most people would be, so that set McCartney at ease over-all. 

"Paul? Are you alright love?" He scooted up to the edge of the seat and examined his younger mate. "Love.. did ye pas out while I was gone er somethin?" He held the ciggie in his lips and took the younger...

Open || Amnesia

"Aww McCartney, I didnt mean it baby look 'ere c'mon!" He teased like the cheeky arse that he was. He smiled sweetly though. He took another drag and blew the smoke away from Paul this time. "If you're so tired go to bed, silly. I don't care at all. I'll just be in here eating peppermint candies and drinkin' tea~!" He chuckled. It was a great idea. He took one last long drag off the cigarette and snuffed it in the ash tray. "But seriously, if you're sleepy you can go on, that's what the bed is for lovie, it is a bit late anyway."

All the pet-like names his bandmate was throwing at him somewhat confused him. Was there something going on between the two? Not anything that was obvious, at least, but John sure made it look that way. Paul really wasn't tired, but if it gave him an excuse to sleep off the blank walls that surrounded his thoughts, then it'd be good enough. Paul stood up and toed his boots off, making his way for the bed across the way. "Ah-, might as well just give it up,.." the Beatle murmured to himself before turning on his cotton covered heels. "I've got no memory, I think. I 'aven't got the slightest who you are, or who I am, or where we are, or why-- please just fill me in, mh?"