(no subject)
There was something to be said for hands. And feet. And...tangibility. Other people had books. Other people had sex. Other people had the excersize machines and the swimming pool. Hermes had his own thoughts. And right now, his thoughts were profusely cussing him out for ever wanting to kill himself in the first place. He was bored. He was mind-numbingly, maddeningly, perpetually bored.
He wanted to take it out on somebody, but obviously that was not going to happen. In no small part because he couldn't find anyone to take it out on, but also because what he really wanted to do...
...really, really wanted to do...
He sighed. Like that was going to happen.
At any rate, the only signs of life he'd seen lately (drifting through the ventilation as ever) was that Camilla chick, the robot guy, and someone he'd never seen before. Even Wesker seemed to have vanished (after promising there would be death, the bastard). Maybe they'd all found a way out.
Oh, they'd better not have found a way out. Hermes would be even more pissed if they got out and left him there alone.
He sighed again and stared into the duty-free shop. Well, it was as good a place as any for a bodiless not-ghost to drift. And maybe he'd find someone to harass. He picked a direction seemingly at random (toward the liquor, which might have said more about his mental state than he cared to let on, even if he didn't plan on "drinking" ever again) and floated off in search of something relatively interesting.
He wanted to take it out on somebody, but obviously that was not going to happen. In no small part because he couldn't find anyone to take it out on, but also because what he really wanted to do...
...really, really wanted to do...
He sighed. Like that was going to happen.
At any rate, the only signs of life he'd seen lately (drifting through the ventilation as ever) was that Camilla chick, the robot guy, and someone he'd never seen before. Even Wesker seemed to have vanished (after promising there would be death, the bastard). Maybe they'd all found a way out.
Oh, they'd better not have found a way out. Hermes would be even more pissed if they got out and left him there alone.
He sighed again and stared into the duty-free shop. Well, it was as good a place as any for a bodiless not-ghost to drift. And maybe he'd find someone to harass. He picked a direction seemingly at random (toward the liquor, which might have said more about his mental state than he cared to let on, even if he didn't plan on "drinking" ever again) and floated off in search of something relatively interesting.