Visitor shift had done a fabulous job of pissing him off. Even the nurses seemed weary (but pleased none the less) when Badou's usual whining about cigarettes was replaced by furious silence. He was about three seconds from tearing out a nurse's throat, needles be damned, when they replaced his stupid nicotine patch and shoved him off into a room full of...good cheer.
With fresh though unsatisfying nicotine flowing through his veins again, it was easier to be more sullen than homicidal. He'd been so close to an entire pack of cigarettes he'd even touched them for several seconds. It was like the gentle caress of a lover being torn away when you were just about to screw like wild animals in heat.
And now they were gone. And Haine was gone. And he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he was probably on his own in this because Haine was brainwashed and gone. Sure, Haine was a bag of zombie dicks most of the time, but he usually came through (eventually) when Badou ran out of places to run. Usually. Badou was seriously going to kick him in the balls the next time they saw each other. Maybe it would jog his memory while his healing factor kicked in. If not, well, Haine wasn't using that anyway and Badou would feel a whole lot better.
He flopped down across from a guy who looked way too old to be playing with construction paper, and picked up his own sheet to viciously attack it with scissors that didn't work. "...Are these even supposed to be scissors? I think the paper will break them."
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With fresh though unsatisfying nicotine flowing through his veins again, it was easier to be more sullen than homicidal. He'd been so close to an entire pack of cigarettes he'd even touched them for several seconds. It was like the gentle caress of a lover being torn away when you were just about to screw like wild animals in heat.
And now they were gone. And Haine was gone. And he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he was probably on his own in this because Haine was brainwashed and gone. Sure, Haine was a bag of zombie dicks most of the time, but he usually came through (eventually) when Badou ran out of places to run. Usually. Badou was seriously going to kick him in the balls the next time they saw each other. Maybe it would jog his memory while his healing factor kicked in. If not, well, Haine wasn't using that anyway and Badou would feel a whole lot better.
He flopped down across from a guy who looked way too old to be playing with construction paper, and picked up his own sheet to viciously attack it with scissors that didn't work. "...Are these even supposed to be scissors? I think the paper will break them."