ISA

What could he say – his flat didn't have TV, and the last thing he thought of with important was the weather. Now he could hold his head high and say he would regularly check the forecast from now on. If there even was a now on. He'd been clobbered so hard around the back of the head, multiple times, he couldn't recall what he'd been doing when the snow hit. Or when the blunt object/fist/ had collided with the back of his head three or four times, leaving him unconscious and practically draining short term memories out of his ears like a bread trail.

Because he weighed a lot – and was severely off balanced – he kept slipping to the side. Whatever kind creature had lugged him back to this spot had decided he could have a lie down. As long as that lie down included being sat on by somebody else. Isaiah didn't realise this until he woke up, thinking he was hungover and in need of a good punch in the face. All the white tipped him off. And then the pressure.

He didn't think to question it. Thinking wasn't within his capabilities right now, pressed between a snowy, soft core enactment of a rock and a hard place. It could have been worse. He could have been a regular meat bag. In which case this would have been a substantial amount more painful. Instead, as the person sat on his sprung to life, he merely tilted his head and groaned.

At first he didn't recognise the accent, one that, if not still groggy from being knocked out, would have been the subject of much playful ridicule. And it seemed as if Mel didn't recognise him either. Which was fair enough considering he was face down in the snow and from that angle he looked quite normal. As he woke up, his core began to whir, unhappy at all this cold. Soon enough the snow and ice around him was melting.

With a grunt and a lot of arm work, Isaiah rolled onto his back, staring into the face of a familiar pizza boy. The Australians face seemed to get sucked into a vortex at the center of his vision, going grainy.“Mel...bourne?” The voice was very confused and very groggy. Not unlike Tom Hardy, only significantly less sexy. “Am I...drunk...or just really high right now.”

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-offers isaiah as mel's cushion- o3o