Techno Tunes' Apartment (Invite Only; Zeig)

[Tymiko]

(Description and such to be added when I'm not feeling so lazy...but it's not all that great. 'Rundown' might be the best word. XD Despite his assumed name, Tech works graveyard shifts at a convenience store earning minimum wage and thus has barely enough to pay rent he splits with a roommate he's not fond of. Luckily, said roommate is almost never home, but when Tech is, due to his late night work, he's usually sleeping.)

[Tymiko]

Techno Tunes was relaxing at home on one of his rare nights off. However, he wasn't in a particularly good mood due to the smell of cigarettes that lingered around the apartment thanks to his good-for-nothing roommates less-than-healthy habits. Tech would have put on a fan to air the place out, but it was too loud for his favorite hobby, which consisted of his humming and singing certain music notes while attempting to compose his own written sheets of music. 

Thus, a somewhat irritable Tech could be found lounging on the threadbare couch in the cramped living room of their tiny apartment, tapping a pencil to his head as he tried to come up with the next few notes of his song while ignoring the lingering odor of secondhand smoke.

[Zeig]

"You're a sweet, rocking filly with some sweet, rocking flanks! I wanna take you home and make you scream my name, oh baby -"

Buck, when did Wicked Rhythm's apartment get so far away. The song fell off his lips as Inkbrand's eyes narrowed, roving around the apartment complex he suddenly found himself standing in. Suffice to say, the salt was doing its best to make thinking the most difficult thing in Equestria - and after a night of partying like the one he was metaphorically limping away from, that was exactly how he liked it. Still, this didn't look like Wicked's place…buck, he was more salted up than he'd thought. But at least he was still rational. With a mental shrug, Inkbrand started forward, eventually stopping when he came to a somewhat familiar door on the ground floor. To his extreme annoyance, the door was locked, and remained that way even after the grey Earth Pony had glared at it for a good minute or so.

…Well buck, Wicked was going to make things difficult for him tonight, the little nag.

Not like that was going to stop him, there was a window right - oh, there. Inkbrand furrowed his eyebrows at the window as if it were personally responsible for his problems - namely, making it rather difficult for him to break into his friend's apartment. The window was higher up than Inkbrand remembered it being. "You think that's gonna," Inkbrand muttered darkly to himself, though a sharp smile lit his features when he caught sight of a trash can nearby. With a bit of pushing, grunting, and general complaining about life, Inkbrand was balanced on top and pushing open the window.

"You bucking nag, since when do you lock up before midnight," he all but hollered as he ungracefully clambered into the window, legs scrunched up painfully. "If this is about that time you lost our bet and had to wear a dress, you'd better believe I'll - buck!"

The loud exclamation was all Inkbrand had to get out as he face planted straight onto the floor, limbs askew. It seemed to take a while to straighten himself up, but eventually, the stallion was sitting on the floor, rubbing at his snout with one hoof. "Rot," he groaned, not bothering to heave himself upwards just yet, "why the buck did you move your…couch?..."

'Uh…huh?'

That, wasn't bucking Wicked Rhythm staring at him from the couch that was moved into the center of the room.

It was entirely easy to see, since Wicked Rhythm was probably the most butch mare he'd ever met in his life - so butch that she was easily mistaken for a stallion by near everypony she met. The mare sitting on the couch, however, was just about the opposite, all slender limbs and slim figure. Oh rot, had he interrupted one of Wicked's partners? But then where was the Pegasus herself? The only mare in the room would probably know the answer to that, and Inkbrand opened his mouth to ask her.

"Well hey there, baby. You look like you could use some ink branded onto you."

Wait, buck, that wasn't what he wanted to say. No wait, yes it was, because there was a mare sitting all lonesome in a small cramped room with no other stallion in sight, and Inkbrand finally got it together enough to wobble to his feet, cocky leer firmly in place on his lips.

Oh hay yes, it was going to be one of those nights.
 

[Tymiko]

Tech wasn't sure why he bothered even trying to concentrate. Even with the window shut, he could hear somepony stumbling around outside and yakking away. It almost sounded as if they were talking to themselves. Not that this was something all that unusual with the neighborhood the apartment was located in, but why did this stranger have to be so loud? Though Techno waited patiently for them to pass, the persistent fool only seemed to get even nosier. What in Celestia's name...? 

He had to do a double-take when he caught a glimpse of movement at his window. His ears perked and green eyes widened. Was it a potential burglar? Did they think the place was empty? He supposed it would have been on a usual night if he'd gone to work... Oh, this was bad. This was so bad. The intruder was attempting to get in and Tech didn't have the first clue how to react. 

The police! He could call the police. But no, then they'd ask for all his personal information and after all the trouble he'd gone through purchasing his current identity from that shady info broker and trying to lay low, there was no way in hay he was going to do that. 

Um...what did he have to defend himself with? His pencil? A lamp? Was he even strong enough to lift said lamp? Should he have just pretended he wasn't there and let them take what they wanted, or did he have the guts to stand his ground? 

It was a minute or two of this frantic thought process before the pale apricot earth pony realized the lunatic seemed to be talking again. Yelling, even. But to who? Him? 

Peering up over the edge of the couch, he tried to get a better view of the crazy pony. Nope, he was absolutely certain he'd never seen the psycho in all his life. Perhaps it was one of his roommate's friends...? But wouldn't he have mentioned him dropping by? Unless this idiot had just decided to drop by on a whim. 

No burglar in their right mind would have made so much noise trying to break into someone's apartment, right? Assuming this pony was in their right mind... How had he reached that window from the outside in the first place?! 

The tattooed terrorist seemed incredibly unstable in more ways than one. Involuntarily, Techno Tunes found himself worrying that the strange pony was going to fall, but by then the intruder had already fallen inside. It was better than him tipping off whatever he'd been standing on outside, but Tech was still somewhat concerned about his potential injuries after having landed flat on his face. 

Still too shocked to really react, the couch question went unanswered as the pale apricot pony ducked back out of sight, sinking into the couch as much as he possibly could. Maybe if he just lay there quietly, the strange stallion would get bored and go away. But no such luck. 

It seemed that in Techno's attempt to get a better look at the gray earth pony, he had caught sight of him. Worse yet, he'd started trying to strike up a conversation. Drat, what now?! "I-I'm sorry?" he stammered, his high voice soft as he tried to maintain an outwardly calm demeanor. Tugging his silver bangs absently, however, as was his nervous habit, he could already feel the heat rise to his face as it flushed furiously. "...Ink?" 

Though the intruder was...actually rather attractive in some deviant, rebel punk sort of way, Techno was not about to admit this to anyone, including himself. He'd been there and done that; been lead on and let down by exactly this one's sort. Besides, in the state he was in, the stranger seemed like he would have flirted with anything that moved - female, male, or otherwise. Whether or not he was the same way when he was in his right mind remained to be seen, but Tunes was also familiar with the fact that flirtation did not always signify interest. 

Clearing his throat and sitting up, he tried to gather his wits back about him, but the crimson hue of his face refused to fade. "Excuse me, but I'm not sure I understand your business here. Are you a friend of my roommate's...?" he asked, his intonation hinting at contempt for the stranger's unexpected presence.

[Zeig]

What, friend, roommate? Why was this mare so bucking hard to understand? She needed to learn how to speak plain pony or something, Inkbrand thought rather mulishly as he ran a hoof through his messy hair.

Oh wait a second, that's right. This was Wicked's place. So technically, Inkbrand supposed that made him a friend of a friend of hers, even though he hadn't known Wicked was shacking up with some pony. Apparently one that shared her looks to an extent, now that Inkbrand got a closer look at her. While still leagues more feminine than Wicked Rhythm on her best days, the mare was missing the soft curves of a real smoking hottie, causing Inkbrand to mourn for just a moment.

The moment passed quickly however, because, again. Mare. Couch. Eager for some of 'ol Inkbrand.

"Forget about your roommate," the grey stallion declared loudly, promptly making himself comfortable on the couch without so much as an 'excuse me', "that's not important right now. What is important," he continued, words not quite slurred but rather heavy, "is that I'm here, and you're here, and this couch is looking mighty comfortable, don't you think?" Inkbrand leaned in to nearly brush his nose against the mare, completely at ease invading her personal space as a heated smirk crossed his face. Oh sure, they tended to protest once or twice, but once they got revved up, it was easy as one-two-three.

Though, maybe he'd overdone the salt tonight. Inkbrand was finding it harder to keep up this flirtatious game, his smirk falling into a sudden and wide yawn. It would be a while yet before he passed out, but it was definitely on the to-do list. Amongst all the different things that could happen when a pony got salted up, Inkbrand had always been one to start out very hoofsy, loud, and rambunctious - he'd had to pay off a few bar bills after causing some fights quite a few times - before he eventually mellowed out for a while, followed by a quick face-planting onto whatever ground he happened to be standing on. Sometimes, Inkbrand wished he were the type of pony to party out loud, straight until they keeled over cold…but hey, getting all chill and relaxed wasn't a bad way to pass the night either.

…Buck. Now was not the bucking time to be reminiscing on a night long past. With a mental shake of his head, Inkbrand focused back on the other pony, only now realizing he'd essentially plastered himself against the mare.

"Woah, sorry about that," the grey Earth Pony said cheerfully, without an ounce of apology in his voice as he made no move to extract himself from the other. "Hope you don't mind me crashing until your roommate gets back…where's Wicked keep her salt stash anyways?" Inkbrand questioned suddenly, pulling back from the mare slightly to eye the apartment as if the magical white cubes might spring out from a hiding place. "Buck, I wouldn't mind a beer either." the stallion wheedled, throwing one foreleg around the mare's shoulders and leaning in close, as if she were a long time salting buddy rather than a potential quick grab.

Buck. That was the only downside of getting really salted up, he tended to lose his game rather early on. But hey - either way, his night ended in bliss, and his mornings usually ended in trauma from either a pounding head, or a mare pounding away at his head. So it seemed an even trade off, to him.
 

[Tymiko]

The pale apricot pony promptly moved as far to one side of the couch as he possibly could. Not to make room for the couch-crasher, but rather to keep as far away from him as possible without getting up. He couldn't leave the premises just then, much as he would have liked. That would have just let this creep realize how much he was getting to him. No, this sort, if Techno wasn't mistaken, was the kind that had to be dealt with firmly and by holding one's ground. Somewhat like a primitive, territorial display, considering their minds weren't likely to be much more complex. 

"Eh...?" At the gray stallion's bold statements, though, Tech's outwardly calm facade was starting to slip, his complexion growing rosier with every new implication. He swallowed hard and tried once more to communicate. "Y-Yes, it was quite comfortable...right up until you sat down your tattooed rump on it and decided to make yourself at home," he said in a mostly steady voice, keeping his head high and trying to meet the other's gold gaze. 

Drat, but what if he took that the wrong way? Techno looked away quickly, averting his emerald gaze before realizing that could have been taken the wrong way, too. Drat, drat, DRAT! Oh flying mother of manticores, he was TOUCHING HIM!! When and how the hay had he gotten so damn close?! Tech gave an involuntary whimper in distress, wondering if he was going to faint from the sheer rush of blood to his ruddy face. 

Just then, though, the impertinent delinquent miraculously decided to back off, his apparent fatigue getting the better of him. Maybe he would fall asleep soon and Techno could toss him back outside into a dumpster where he belonged. Yes, this was a good plan...if an overly-hopeful one. Once again, no such luck. 

"..." Was he apologizing? The words had been said, but the tone and actions that followed were not consistent with them. "A-actually yes, I do mind," he began, though he wasn't sure that would, in any way, deter the flagrant fool. "This is just a wild guess, but I'm thinking you might have the wrong apartment. I'm not sure who you're talking about, because I don't know any 'Wicked'," he stated, gaining confidence as he spoke. He just needed to take charge and straighten this hooligan out. Yes, simple as that! 

...But no, the gray pony wasn't paying attention again. He seemed to be distracted by a craving for salt and beer. Techno rolled his eyes. "At the moment, I think those are the last things you need..." he muttered, just starting to relax his tense body before the nuisance was touching him yet again, making him jump slightly before going rigid. Alright. That was it. 

Leaping off the couch in an agitated whir, Techno Tunes turned to address the strange stallion. "Listen, you!" he cried, pointing a firm hoof at his addressee. "I don't know who you are or where you came from or why you think you can just come crashing in through people's windows at this hour of night, but you're obviously not right in the head!" He stomped his hoof back down. 

"My roommate is out. He likely won't be back until morning, but his name isn't 'Wicked' and he sure as hay isn't a 'she', so I sincerely doubt he's the pony you're looking for. Even so, had he been, his absence doesn't give you any right to help yourself to whoever else is around while you wait. I don't appreciate the ridiculously untoward advances you're making when I don't even know you or your name!"

[Zeig]

Inkbrand never pouted, because he was a stallion, but his lips seemed to make a good attempt to it as he rubbed one hoof against his right ear, put out by the sudden loud noises the mare was making. Figured Wicked's live-in mare would be all prissy and high-strung, she liked them like that.

Though, now that his head was beginning to cool off a bit from the immediate after effects of a hard salting, Inkbrand could make a little sense of the angry words tumbling from the mare's - stallion, even? What the buck, another girly looking stallion? Manehatten was just full of 'em - mouth, causing him to glance around the apartment once again. No wonder everything looked a little strange, and no bucking wonder why the door had been locked up. This wasn't Wicked's place at all!

'Oh, rot. Whaddya know.'

Somewhere along with this newfound revelation, Inkbrand was aware that he was literally trespassing into some pony's home, and he'd be lucky if he could get the buck out before the sirens came blaring around the corner. But even that thought was curtailed as Inkbrand let out another yawn, followed by a light hiccup, scratching one hoof against his chin as if deep in thought.

Buck, too much thinking, not enough drinking. But Inkbrand did catch the tail end of her words, causing him to perk up in an almost comical manner.

"Oh, is that what this is about," he asked, though there was a lack of a question in his tone. "Well rot, why didn't you say so. Name's Inkbrand, best bucking tattoo artist in all of Equestria. Now that that's out of the way, we're going to be best friends, right?" Inkbrand snickered, still comfortably sprawled out on the couch as if he owned it, never mind the irate mare that would potentially be coming after him with a frying pan soon.

'Hot.'

"Alright alright, no need to get your flank in a twist," Inkbrand sighed with a little flapping of his hoof, expression and tone equivalent to a pony imparting the deepest and most demanding favor for a dear friend, "it was an honest mistake. What's a sweet looking mare like you doing letting stallions crawl into their windows, anyways?" he chided as he heaved himself upwards from the couch, shaking his head a bit. Honestly, you'd think a mare would have more sense than to let a smashed stallion into their home at this hour.

Inkbrand turned to tell the mare so, but his eyes caught onto the fridge standing a ways away in the kitchen, and he happily trot up to it, opening it up to stick his head inside. Wicked was bound to have a six-pack or something laying around, wasn't she?