OPEN LOG.
Characters: Dexter Grif (wheelwork) & ???
Setting/Location: Some random set of stairs on the Caravan.
Date & Time: Day 18, afternoon-ish.
Warnings: TBA?
Summary: Grif is sick, he falls asleep in the middle of some stairs. Someone should trip over him, try to wake him up, draw on his face, or loot him for his armor. Clearly.
Let it never be said that Dexter Grif only half-asses his way through life. For once, he was being an overachiever at something. Being ill, that is. And he despised it. Well, he despised it when he wasn't nearly delirious... or preoccupied with choking out his insides... or half asleep with exhaustion.
Or just plain unconscious, as it were. Grif had been... well, if one were to ask him, he wouldn't even be able to recall what he had been in the process of doing, but it involved him stomping down however many flights of stairs. He only made it about a quarter of the way, though, before he had taken a seat to rest. The sickness destroyed what little stamina he already had, and the fever was wreaking havoc on him. He ended up feeling overheated, which prompted him to all but throw his helmet and half his armor off, letting the pieces tumble noisily down the steps.
It all ended with Grif laying partially curled on his side, armorless from the waist up (with the exception of his nanosuit), arms dangling through the balusters. Sleeping.
On a flight of stairs. Indeed.
Setting/Location: Some random set of stairs on the Caravan.
Date & Time: Day 18, afternoon-ish.
Warnings: TBA?
Summary: Grif is sick, he falls asleep in the middle of some stairs. Someone should trip over him, try to wake him up, draw on his face, or loot him for his armor. Clearly.
Let it never be said that Dexter Grif only half-asses his way through life. For once, he was being an overachiever at something. Being ill, that is. And he despised it. Well, he despised it when he wasn't nearly delirious... or preoccupied with choking out his insides... or half asleep with exhaustion.
Or just plain unconscious, as it were. Grif had been... well, if one were to ask him, he wouldn't even be able to recall what he had been in the process of doing, but it involved him stomping down however many flights of stairs. He only made it about a quarter of the way, though, before he had taken a seat to rest. The sickness destroyed what little stamina he already had, and the fever was wreaking havoc on him. He ended up feeling overheated, which prompted him to all but throw his helmet and half his armor off, letting the pieces tumble noisily down the steps.
It all ended with Grif laying partially curled on his side, armorless from the waist up (with the exception of his nanosuit), arms dangling through the balusters. Sleeping.
On a flight of stairs. Indeed.