[OOM] Oswin, Moriarty and Poker.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty's room is - much as someone would expect. There's a bed, a desk with an array of soil samples and various examining equipment (as well as a pile of unmarked papers) and a few large armchairs and a leather sofa set around a coffee table.

Moriarty holds open the door for Oswin, before setting the bottles on the coffee table and taking off his coat, hanging it up by the door. His boots are deposited beneath it. After all, it's rude to wear a coat and boots inside.

"I hope you don't mind losing too much," he says cheerily.

Comments

[souffle_girlek]

Yeeeeup, stealing the bed. She rolls her eyes at him (and immediately regrets it as that as it makes the room infinitely more spinny).

"I will concede the point that I'm probably not the most ambulatory of people." AKA a superlightweight, who has no business drinking rotgut. "But I'm not the one who got used as a punching bag. I can take the sofa."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"You are my guest, and a lady, and I would be completely remiss in letting you take the sofa. It's one night, and it's not as if the sofa is made of punching, I'll be fine."

[souffle_girlek]

The 'and a lady' bit earns a somewhat indignant face, but she does realize that this is one battle she's going to lose - and horribly, if she keeps at it.
"Alright, alright. If you insist." She concedes, with moderately more grace than she possesses physically, at the moment. "Thank you."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"It is no problem," Moriarty says levelly, and after a quick glance around for a suitable blanket, finds one situated in an open box in one corner of the room and grabs it.

[souffle_girlek]

She looks unsure but... he's right, she is a hazard to others stumbling around the halls like this. And if she does decide to leave anyway, she wouldn't put it past him to try and follow, and the whole point was that he sleep at some point, so... no. So she picks up her discarded sweater and shrugs it on, meandering in a weaving sort of way bed-wards.

At least, she tells herself, that this way he's less likely to see the blush she can feel burning across her cheeks.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

If he did, there would totally be at least a little bit of crowing. Because that is a victory of a sort, he feels, even if it's unintentional.

He is, to his credit, asleep not all that long after he's on the sofa. It's a curious sprawling kind of sleep, with his arms wrapped around the blanket.

[souffle_girlek]

She grins when his breathing evens out, glad in that - it's not fair that he should seem worse after the case with the baddie who wanted to hurt him and his brother than during. When she falls asleep, it's curled into a little ball of Oswin, huddled against whatever the world wants to bring on tomorrow.