*Posting Note: Due to facilitate easy writing Kjartan's thoughts will be in plain English, his speech accented"

[b]Kjartan Reinhølt[/b]

Blue eyes blinked groggily at the sky, and then squinted fiercely at the sunlight that danced across the scarred face. Kjartan was intensely aware of how much his head hurt and threw a muscled arm across his eyes to block out the sun all the while muttering under his breath. It took him a moment, perhaps it was the hang over, he wasn't sure, but he was suddenly aware of the smell of crushed earth and grass, and the unmistakable sensation of damp turf beneath his bare back and shoulders. 

An idle thought flashed through his head as he lifted it slightly so that he could see through a narrow slit between his arm and his cheek, the lads would never let him live this down if he'd passed out on the rugby pitch. He was flat on his back, right knee in the air, kilt falling around his waist and he supposed it was a good thing he was wearing rugby shorts underneath or he'd be showing the world "the goods". 

Through the gap he could now see a pair of tight blue jeans and black boots. Whoever this person was happened to be facing away from him and he smiled slightly at the curve of her backside as it strained against the jeans. He'd certainly woken up with less attractive women and not been able to remember the night, his initial concern was if he'd used protection or not, I he already had a half dozen illegitimate children running around the Commonwealth nations. 

The thought was abruptly cut off as the person of his attention began to talk to someone else nearby and he raised his head some more to see a pathetic looking little fellow on the grass. His gaze shifted to the right and he saw more people. Now he was confused. He laid his head back down on the grass with a slight groan, maybe if he went back to sleep they would all be gone by the time he woke up and he wouldn't have to speak with any of them. That would probably be best. Yes, he'd do that.

His eyes flew open quite suddenly. He'd been at a fund raiser, now he remembered, and it hadn't been just ANY field he'd been on. It was a Team Scotland fund raiser and the team had been at Balmoral Castle to meet the Queen. He'd been one of the first selected to meet her because of his military service. Now he was worried he had passed out on the grounds of the castle. He sat up abruptly, his head spinning so hard he almost vomited. For a horrifying moment he thought he would but it passed swiftly and he staggered to his feet, eyes racing around as he turned quickly about him. No castle. No guards. In fact, beyond the people lying about in the grass with him, there was no one he knew at all.

"Thank ze gods..." He muttered out loud and allowed himself to sink into a crouch, head in his hands.