Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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damned_institute2009-01-24 07:33 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-01-24 07:33 pm
Entry tags:
Nightshift 38: M81-90 Hallway
Well-behaved. Fuck that noise. An image sprung briefly to mind -- Tess, wandering around in the old kitchen, pre-morning caffeine, in flannel pants and a T-shirt reading "Well-behaved women seldom make history" in letters that were slowly peeling off. He'd offered her coffee and she'd about taken his head off. Some sort of detox crap about switching to green tea. Fuck that, too. S.T. hadn't had anything with a statistically significant amount of caffeine in days, and he was feeling it. Pounding headache, dry mouth, like a hangover without the good part.
Maybe the kitchen would have a secret stash. Then again, this would wear off in a few more days, though, if he kept with the cold turkey. Six of one. He'd see what the kitchen had, first.
He rubbed his temples as he collected his gear -- same as last night. Flashlight, pillowcase, radio-belt, maps, paper, pens, shopping list. All in place. He sat down briefly to add his one new addition -- some strips of cloth binding his slippers on more tightly.
He stood up, and walked out the door of M90, slamming it behind him.
[skipping a hall to here]
Maybe the kitchen would have a secret stash. Then again, this would wear off in a few more days, though, if he kept with the cold turkey. Six of one. He'd see what the kitchen had, first.
He rubbed his temples as he collected his gear -- same as last night. Flashlight, pillowcase, radio-belt, maps, paper, pens, shopping list. All in place. He sat down briefly to add his one new addition -- some strips of cloth binding his slippers on more tightly.
He stood up, and walked out the door of M90, slamming it behind him.
[skipping a hall to here]
Re: [also from M86]
Re: [also from M86]
It seemed that Leon's wound hadn't gotten any worse on the trip back, which was some small relief. Hopefully it would be nearly healed by tomorrow, since he'd done relatively little new damage tonight.
Leon tucked his sword into the closet, hiding it more carefully than he'd hidden anything else he'd scavenged in his nights here. This was precious, and worth every bit of caution Leon could manage.
That done, Leon went to his bed and lay down, more tired than he liked to admit. Sleep would do him good.