08 (partly audio--commentlogs are ok too)
[Keats is holed up in an empty spot on deck 13, just staring at the field or into the false blue sky. Every once in awhile he'll glance down at his book (without really reading it,) or stop to light up a cigarette.
If only he could just find a real place like this, and get the hell out of here...
And then, suddenly, his phone device decides to spit water right through his pocket. He yanks it out and glares...]
Shit... so it wants me to talk, huh?
[Followed by a definite 'THUNK' sound. Yep, he just threw it. He'll be picking it up later when he's less pissed.]
If only he could just find a real place like this, and get the hell out of here...
And then, suddenly, his phone device decides to spit water right through his pocket. He yanks it out and glares...]
Shit... so it wants me to talk, huh?
[Followed by a definite 'THUNK' sound. Yep, he just threw it. He'll be picking it up later when he's less pissed.]