The Bluth Yacht, Friday evening
GOB was in his yacht, emoing. You know, for GOB. This meant that he was possibly a little drunk. Maybe. A smidge.
He was looking through his closet when something hit him. After he got back up - which was slightly difficult due to the aforementioned smidgen of drunkenness - he took a look at the shoebox that had fallen off the shelf. He opened it up and took a look through it.
"Hey, these aren't mine." He began to read the contents. "Hey, that's not bad." He read some more. "That... well, that kind blows, but in a sweet way, I guess."
GOB thought for a minute, then decided that he had a project to work on. A project that could, if he played his cards right, lead to him getting laid again.
[OOC: Tiny bit of set-up for upcoming plottiness. Not open to interaction or anything. *goes back to being in VEGAS OMG*]
He was looking through his closet when something hit him. After he got back up - which was slightly difficult due to the aforementioned smidgen of drunkenness - he took a look at the shoebox that had fallen off the shelf. He opened it up and took a look through it.
"Hey, these aren't mine." He began to read the contents. "Hey, that's not bad." He read some more. "That... well, that kind blows, but in a sweet way, I guess."
GOB thought for a minute, then decided that he had a project to work on. A project that could, if he played his cards right, lead to him getting laid again.
[OOC: Tiny bit of set-up for upcoming plottiness. Not open to interaction or anything. *goes back to being in VEGAS OMG*]