Edit— Ooh, fun! This turned into a wall of text. Sorry. I suppose I can always back out if I get short on time and can't keep up later, but for now, these two really need developing. Wonder how it'll be trying to write both of them?
"LEARN TO DRIVE, MORON! Where's there ever a cop?" he shouts before slumping back into his seat. "Well, crap." Johnson sighs and glares moodily at the steering wheel.
"It could always be worse—" starts Tag from the passenger seat.
"Don't. Just don't." The front end of the car is buried in a snowdrift they'd been driven off of the road into, and the snow is continuing to pile up quickly.
Tag fidgets awkwardly for a moment. Neither of them look at each other.
"Hey! That place looks nice!" exclaims Tag. "We were just looking for somewhere to stop, right? And we wouldn't have even seen it from the road." He shoves the car door open— or tries to, at least, and forces it just enough for him to slip out. Snow dribbles into the car. All of this transpires in a short period of time.
Shuffling around, Tag tries to clear enough of a space for Johnson's door to open. The snow was jarred loose by the impact. Johnson's not as skinny as Tag, but he's got more raw strength and forces the door open.
"Ow!" Tag stumbles into the snow and grabs Johnson's arm, dragging him along. They land in a pile of snow with a soft poofy noise.
Glaring, Johnson stands, attempting to brush the snow off of himself. It's a futile effort; the grainy crystals are caked on.
When they finally make it into the hotel, carrying a small pack each— having settled on digging out their suitcases the next day if the road wasn't travel-worthy— they're likely a sight, mismatched, bedraggled, soaked and cold young men. Tag's dark hair is only starting to dry and it's already sticking every which way; he's also rather pinkish and shivering, not being one for dressing too heavy.
Meanwhile, Johnson's tinged bright red at the tips of his ears and nose and under his cheekbones, and he's not only shaking from the cold. His pale eyes are glassy and irritated, and his bangs are plastered into his face.
"One room. Two beds." he growls, sliding a card out of his wallet at random and dropping it onto the counter.
"Sorry 'bout him." says Tag. "He's just grouchy. You get used to it."
Johnson's eye twitches.
"Oh, there's a restaurant! I bet it has hot chocolate." exclaims Tag, edging away from him. "I'll go get you some while you sort this out berightback" He skids in a puddle and winces, but Johnson catches him by the back of his jacket.
"Be careful, you idiot! It's not like an ambulance can get here anytime soon if you snap your stupid neck!" he snaps.
"Ack! Thanks." Tag gets his bearings and heads in at a not terribly more sedate pace.
Johnson pinches the bridge of his nose. Hopefully the hotel will have some kind of cold medicine for the horrible death bug he's probably going to catch.
"Uh, hi." says Tag, swaying as the comfortable warmth of the room hits him. He addresses the bartender. "Do you have hot chocolate?" he asks hopefully.
The bartender gives him a nod. "Instant's all we have right now."
"That works great!" He settles nearby a drowsy looking woman who's swaddled in blankets and holding something that looks strong. He wonders if Johnson would like a shot of something in his hot chocolate; probably, but who knows what the laws here are like.
edited 14th Sep '10 1:32:52 PM by voiderofwarranties
Real life has become a mountain that must be conquered epically. Cutting back on intarwebz for a bit.