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Jul. 6th, 2016 09:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebloodtraitorSirius had never once in his life considered the notion of celebrating American's Independence Day. He hadn't even been certain what such a celebration would entail until he'd been at the festivities.
Hot dogs, apparently. It involves a lot of hot dogs.
And fireworks, he'd found, as the sun set and the sky turned black.
The mood of the party had shifted at that point as well, going from the rather wholesome, carefree atmosphere similar to the carnival of only weeks ago into something... well, a bit more sinister. Somewhere in the fray, Sirius had lost track of Kieren, had found himself swept into a mess of rather boisterous and clearly very drunk Americans plying him with cup after cup of alcohol all whilst cheerfully calling him all manner of derogatory British things.
Sirius hadn't minded. The drinks were free.
It's late now, however, and Sirius is very drunk and, he realizes, has not a clue where Kieren's run off to.
He blinks down at his phone for a moment, frowning at the tiny buttons swimming across the screen before tapping out what he can only hope is a legible message.
The reply he receives moments later is rather short. Curt.
Sirius hiccups, brow furrowed.
He's too drunk to attempt apparating so instead he walks. By the time he's stood just outside Kieren's door, he's nearly sober. He lifts a hand, knocking quietly as he leans forward to rest his forehead to the wood.
"Kieren. Kiiiiieren. Kieren, it's late, babe. Open up?"
Hot dogs, apparently. It involves a lot of hot dogs.
And fireworks, he'd found, as the sun set and the sky turned black.
The mood of the party had shifted at that point as well, going from the rather wholesome, carefree atmosphere similar to the carnival of only weeks ago into something... well, a bit more sinister. Somewhere in the fray, Sirius had lost track of Kieren, had found himself swept into a mess of rather boisterous and clearly very drunk Americans plying him with cup after cup of alcohol all whilst cheerfully calling him all manner of derogatory British things.
Sirius hadn't minded. The drinks were free.
It's late now, however, and Sirius is very drunk and, he realizes, has not a clue where Kieren's run off to.
He blinks down at his phone for a moment, frowning at the tiny buttons swimming across the screen before tapping out what he can only hope is a legible message.
The reply he receives moments later is rather short. Curt.
Sirius hiccups, brow furrowed.
He's too drunk to attempt apparating so instead he walks. By the time he's stood just outside Kieren's door, he's nearly sober. He lifts a hand, knocking quietly as he leans forward to rest his forehead to the wood.
"Kieren. Kiiiiieren. Kieren, it's late, babe. Open up?"
