Skwisgaar woke up one morning n his sumptuous Ordo room quite horny and restless. The members of Dethklok were watched day and night and hadn't been allowed off premises since their arrival. The Swede padded to his adjacent bathroom to relieve his bladder, take a shower and jack off, hoping that might help.
It didn't really.
None of the females on site would return the blond's frequent advances, and this wasn't Mordhaus, full of willing groupies and chickateers.
After dressing, Skwisgaar wanders to one of the main reception rooms and finds Pickles there already drinking. "Hej, Pickle," the Swede greets him. He flops down on a chair listlessly, sighing.
"Whatsa matter?," asks Pickles after a moment.
"I boreds. And hornys."
"None o' the vampire gals'll pay any attention to ya, eh?," the drummer snickered.
"I's cooped up in heres," Skwisgaar complains, not willing to admit his charm wasn't working. "Dey ams so many places what we can'ts go to. Is worse dan de butlers man sometimes."
"Meh, what kin ya do?," hiccupped the drummer philosophically.
The Swede glances pointedly at the redhaired man. "We could sneaks out and goes into de city. We ats big old citys and don'ts get to go lookings arounds?"
Pickles regarded him solemnly for a few long moments before saying, "Ya wanna go girl-huntin', ain't ya? Gonna drag me out chasin' some tail an' get these bloodsuckers all in a riot?"
Skwisgaar smiled goofily at that.
"Great idea," Pickles said, finishing off his bottle.