<div class="floatright">(http://i1149.photobucket.com/albums/o597/Seraph_Azriel/7f9f893c-0ae3-4923-9219-3cc175a8a14f_zpsro9ibc8a.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Lamont Carolinius<br/><strong>Time:</strong>10:00 AM<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Celeste's Villa, Sky's above<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Rose<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The dawn was a damnable pestilence.  The sun, a flaming hell who shot forth rays of light that fell like arrows upon the populace, who in their simple proclivities, received such tortures with smiles and fawning greetings of how fortunate such a daily occurrence was.  Lamont issued forth his own greeting to the daylight which kept more in taste with his own speculations.  In the history of anything in particular, there had never been a 'good' morn.  Simply one in which he could sleep past.  Alas but it seemed that the public of this berth were more inclined to rise habitually early.  The rat rose from his wreck of a bed.  Sheets askew, some pooled upon the floor.  Generally night was a time for the activities that he was inclined to.  "Damn."  Blearily did lavender regard the waking world about him with the manner of disdain that an expectant strumpet might, finding that upon dropping his trousers, that his tarse was far less capable than his ego.  The young man rose and dressed himself sloppily.  His hair wild and other accouterments set all about in a haphazard fashion, the laces of his shirt loose and tangled to give one a most generous view of his bare chest.  The currently cantankerous chordata cantered at a drunk's uneven pace as his addled wits feebly grasped at the next probable step.  Some manner of mental accelerant was needed that he might enjoy the wakefulness of the living.<br/><br/>So the rat naturally followed his nose to the kitchen, where the alluring scent of a delightful decoction was quite clearly permeating.  Within that room did he find little Rose scurrying about, performing some manner of food preparation.  "Sweet lady.  Mistress of the kitchen."  The aristocrat drawled with exhaustion.  "If, perchance, you were to share in your bounty of black ambrosia, I would be most charmed and given to sharing in my favors with you.  In whatever manner is most keen to pleas you."  Naturally some of the offer was simply out of sheer desperation to know what it was like having an active brain in such a trying time.  The other half was simply because he was always<em>up</em>for it.