[i]“Your muscles… are so tight, Master Thunderhawk.” “I know. I work hard, that’s why.” “You need to relax more… ease all of the tension, Master Thunderhawk…” “I know…”[/i] Thunderhawk leaned back into the plush leather sofa, his body sinking as the warm, soft delicate hands of the three women surrounding him continued to work their magic. A blonde in stunning red silk lingerie tended to his feet, working her thumbs, fingers and palms around his calfs and heels, gently caressing each of his toes in turn. Another beautiful woman beyond belief, with black hair and garbed in a loose fitting, pristine white robe that left little to the imagination caressed and massaged his shoulders, firmly pressing her fingertips across his shoulder blades, slowly kneading and working out all the knots and pent-up stress that the ranger had obtained. Ahh… this… this was the life… [i]“Would you like any more, Master Thunderhawk…?”[/i] Another gentle, soothing voice asking, belonging to a third woman, clad in nothing more then black underwear with an elegant fluffy scarf trailing across her body, covering and obscuring all the details just so. She poured more beer into his glass. [i]“No… no I’m good…”[/i] Thunderhawk replied. [i]“Not even… a kiss…? ♥”[/i] The woman leaned in low, pulling at her scarf and wrapping it around his neck, pulling him in closer… and closer… and closer… [b]HRK!![/b] "OH MY GODS WHAT THE FUCK CHIRPS" [img]http://i.imgur.com/k4gahzg.png[/img] [b][u]Los Paraisos: Streets: Alleyway[/u][/b] Thunderhawk was rudely tugged out of his pleasant reverie by something so soft snared around his neck and choking the ever living daylights out of him. His head popped out of the haybarrel first, his eyes bulging in fright and his mouth screeching as Aria gave another tug on her scarf, tightening the noose, before relenting once she saw the damage she was committing. She didn’t want to ruin her scarf. “WHAT THE FUCK CHIRPS???” Thunderhawk gagged and spluttered as the strangling hold tightened, and his body slowly returned to its senses. The sense of pain, grogginess… blurry vision, slowed reaction, incoherency and memory loss… he knew this sensation all too well. A sensation that he once actually embraced, but now… now he was brought to an all consuming panic. No. No, no, no! He… had a hangover, didn’t he? Gods no, no, no! And this… this was one of the worst ones he could possibly imagine! His skull felt like it was splitting. No! No this wasn’t right! It wasn’t right!! And then his eyes centered on Aria, and what she was wearing. She was wearing HIS clothes. His clothes? Why on Ddaear was she wearing his clothes? What the hell had happened last night that would have made her want to wear his- Wait. Wait wait wait please no, don’t tell him they had…! Aria was a fine woman. Beautiful, in all respects, a gorgeous looker with a body Thunderhawk was sure to die for. He, and many other men would kill to be with her, and so the thought of spending an evening with her… it wasn’t a bad one, even despite Aria’s less then award winning personality. But… that was the confusion and confliction arose. He should have been happier. Snarky and smug even. But he wasn’t, and the fact that he wasn’t also contributed to his mental aguish, because he couldn’t believe that… that his hopes and efforts the last few months were actually genuine. Hopes and efforts that had now been shattered into pieces. Since leaving the Pride, Thunderhawk had tried to change. To become a better man, after much self-reflection and the aid of Tiberius. His goal was to go sober and to leave women alone. And one night – LAST night – that all fell apart. But… but whilst the hangover from hell was true, it didn’t mean that the other part happened. She was wearing his clothes and was in his dreams but… but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Especially if he was still wearing his suit. His body lurched forwards, stumbling out of the haybarrel and landing hard onto the floor. He quickly stood up again, noticing first Aria’s reddened face, before looking down at his body. He wasn’t wearing his suit. [i]He wasn’t even wearing her clothes,[/i] the next best hopeful thing. He was wearing [b]absolutely nothing[/b] but her scarf around his neck. Thunderhawk screamed, running as far and fast away from the demoness who had ruined him, his body becoming a flashing streak with her fluffy feathers trailing behind him. --- [img]http://i.imgur.com/QLodCtj.png[/img] [u][b]Los Paraisos: Pellagio: Room ???[/b][/u] Don almost fell backwards and cracked his head on the sink, stumbling back in such surprise once a groggy voice emerged from his right in the bathtub. His eyes bulged wide and his sight shook from Selan to the distant mirror hanging above, back to Selan again. He… he didn’t know what to do! The first thing that came to Don’s mind, that urged his body to move into action, was to make sure that Selan was okay. For whatever reason, she had been sleeping in the bathtub and had just banged her head against the faucet… two things that should not be happening. She looked like an absolute wreck- her dress and makeup besmirched and in tatters. He wanted to rush over and comfort her, ask her if she was okay and do everything he could to help. But… he had a problem. He had a big, big problem. And… and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let Selan see him like this. He just… he couldn’t. And then a stroke of genius flashed through his brain. His hand snagged two of the nearest towels, and he wrapped one up around his head. As he jumped back to his feet, and inspected himself in the mirror, he nodded with satisfaction. Selan shouldn’t have been able to see anything. And with the other towel… he draped it around Selan’s arms and shoulders as he lifted her up, up out of the bathtub. “Selan… are you… are you okay?” Don asked, pain striking his face at the thought that something bad might have happened. What… what had happened last night? He guided her out of the bathroom, and into the hotel room’s plush living room. Easier said then done considering how groggy his own body felt, but he knew he had to get her out of there and onto somewhere softer to sit. The sofa here, or even one of the beds would have worked. But they only made it halfway through the ravaged, torn up room before they were stopped in their tracks by an unexpected sound. Don slowly turned his head towards it, his eyes growing wider, and wider, his mouth dropping lower, and lower. No. No, no, no, no, nononononononononononononononononononononono This couldn’t be real? Could it? This was a dream still. It had to be a dream. Because if it wasn’t… [hider=If it wasn’t…] Lying in the middle of the floor, nestled in a small basket and wrapped up in blankets, was something very small and cute making a lot of noise crying. [img] http://i.imgur.com/Z9Zf5ms.png[/img] Had the stork came early and delivered Don and Selan a baby?![/hider]