Night 51: M41-50 Hallway

[hes_deadjim]

He hadn't expected to see a note to him from anyone other than his commanding officers. He'd caught the bulletin (from Dean, wasn't it?) addressed to him before the dinner shift. McCoy remembered him well enough. Rough looking kid, thought he could practice some medicine with nothing but a belt and dirty jacket, but generally had his heart in the

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[anemptydecapo]

Dinner was spent without a word said to the other man in the room. Truth be told, the assassin's mind had been so focused on the night ahead, the day past and those within it, coupled with his vision stuck in his journal and his mouth occupied with what little he could force himself to eat, he would have not have been able to hold a proper conversation in the first place. He only noticed the silence after the doors unlocked, once he already redressed and readied himself, and it came with the feeling of... not guilt, not exactly. A feeling that he wasn't the most desirable or conversational of roommates.

Not that it were ever his intention to be. He refused to be here for the entertainment of others. If Mr. Gilbert expected anything more of him, then he had every right to be disappointed.

He didn't have time to think about it now. Pushing aside the pain of moving, Venom pulled his cue from the closet and the wooden baseball bat from under his bed (Bella never had replied to that note, but he would bring it on the off-chance she lacked a weapon) and set out.

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