[Hallway M21-M30]
[Still in Room M23]
He'd gone to the closet to search for a new hiding place to dump the cigarettes, and instead, found something very unexpected.
Hanging in the closet was a set of very unmistakable clothes. Sanzo stared for a second.
What the hell?
It had to have arrived very recently, because he hadn't seen it earlier. He wasn't even going to ask how, only whether it was actually Landels doing (he didn't see any point in that, it had to be some fuck up), or if it was that hag in the sky actually doing something right for a change and not laughing her/his ass off at him.
Everything looked to be in order. The breastplate was there, the sandles, everything...
Sanzo began stripping off the Landel uniform.
He felt more awake with each piece that he put on, not nearly as lost in the sheer mindlessness of the dayshift anymore. Sometimes the robes were a pain in the ass on the road - especially in hot weather - but right now, it was the only familiar thing he could grasp onto.
Just like holding that heavy weight of the gun in his hands.
Sanzo slipped on the sandles last, and dropped the matches and cigarettes into a sleeve. The map, radio and pens soon joined them, although the last was more of an afterthought. Pens probably wouldn't do shit as weapons, but at the rate things were going, it was better to be prepared.
No sutra on his shoulders and no gun, but everything else was almost as it should be.
He'd gone to the closet to search for a new hiding place to dump the cigarettes, and instead, found something very unexpected.
Hanging in the closet was a set of very unmistakable clothes. Sanzo stared for a second.
What the hell?
It had to have arrived very recently, because he hadn't seen it earlier. He wasn't even going to ask how, only whether it was actually Landels doing (he didn't see any point in that, it had to be some fuck up), or if it was that hag in the sky actually doing something right for a change and not laughing her/his ass off at him.
Everything looked to be in order. The breastplate was there, the sandles, everything...
Sanzo began stripping off the Landel uniform.
He felt more awake with each piece that he put on, not nearly as lost in the sheer mindlessness of the dayshift anymore. Sometimes the robes were a pain in the ass on the road - especially in hot weather - but right now, it was the only familiar thing he could grasp onto.
Just like holding that heavy weight of the gun in his hands.
Sanzo slipped on the sandles last, and dropped the matches and cigarettes into a sleeve. The map, radio and pens soon joined them, although the last was more of an afterthought. Pens probably wouldn't do shit as weapons, but at the rate things were going, it was better to be prepared.
No sutra on his shoulders and no gun, but everything else was almost as it should be.