Weaz poked his head in the door. His hair was painfully and unconvincingly combed, and he was even wearing a t-shirt that had no swear words on it. Although the gift of a naked woman figurine holding flowers was probably inappropriate but it was the only thing he could think of on short notice.
He put the flowers on a bedside table, and sat down in a convenient plastic uncomfortable chair.
...What was it with hospitals having uncomfortable chairs? You'd think they'd know by now that, hey, visitors need to be able to sit down without having their asses go numb. It's a friggin' hospital, isn't it supposed to be all about making people healthy and happy? If so, why the torturous chairs?
He put the flowers on a bedside table, and sat down in a convenient plastic uncomfortable chair.
...What was it with hospitals having uncomfortable chairs? You'd think they'd know by now that, hey, visitors need to be able to sit down without having their asses go numb. It's a friggin' hospital, isn't it supposed to be all about making people healthy and happy? If so, why the torturous chairs?
"Hey, man. You look like shit."
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"Thought I looked more like snot."
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He slouches against the wall instead of sitting in the uncomfortable chair, hands in his pockets.
"So. If you die, do I get my guns back?"
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It was only after he said that that he realized he didn't really want to know.
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A stern look.
"You hide my porn yet?"
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For a certain value of the word "hide." It'd be more accurate to say he adopted it and gave it a loving new home.
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