Kadaj, #93
Kadaj wished Sephiroth hadn’t said anything about being hungry-his stomach, distracted until that point, remembered that nothing had been put in it since half a bowl of noodle soup in the attempt at lunch the day before. The rest of the bowl had mostly been knocked over his pants, which he was still wearing, and he didn’t want to think about that either. Half-heartedly he picked at the denim over his knee, and noted the tiny flecks of some green herb dried into it. Eugh. All at once he felt completely filthy. He probably stank too.
…there was no suitable way to ask First Brother to help him take his pants off, was there? No, damn it, there really wasn’t.
“The doctor’s probably done things to most of the food in the refrigerator,” he reminded Sephiroth, trying to roll forward onto his knees, failing, and thwapping back against the bed with an undignified grunt.
“…and probably to everything else that was here before he left. Things with peels are probably safe…eggs…not the bacon, I hate that. Not the milk either. There’s always something in the milk.”
He tried to roll forward again and made an even worse go of it this time, tipping unsteadily over halfway through the attempt. At least he was a few inches closer to the door. It was something. He’d be out to the common room in no time.
“I’ll…meet you there,” he said, digging his fingers and toes into the rug and scuffing himself another good inch or two along. “In the kitchen. Or commons.” Another scuff. “Whatever’s closest.”
[tags Seph]
…there was no suitable way to ask First Brother to help him take his pants off, was there? No, damn it, there really wasn’t.
“The doctor’s probably done things to most of the food in the refrigerator,” he reminded Sephiroth, trying to roll forward onto his knees, failing, and thwapping back against the bed with an undignified grunt.
“…and probably to everything else that was here before he left. Things with peels are probably safe…eggs…not the bacon, I hate that. Not the milk either. There’s always something in the milk.”
He tried to roll forward again and made an even worse go of it this time, tipping unsteadily over halfway through the attempt. At least he was a few inches closer to the door. It was something. He’d be out to the common room in no time.
“I’ll…meet you there,” he said, digging his fingers and toes into the rug and scuffing himself another good inch or two along. “In the kitchen. Or commons.” Another scuff. “Whatever’s closest.”
[tags Seph]