(no subject)
[ It's one of those long nights.
Church had slept, but not really. It seemed like his sleeping patterns were random at best, and his body wore down at the most inconvenient of times. It's still dark outside ( dark and fucking cold ), and Church has his back pressed against the door leading outside, bouncing a ball down against the floor beneath him.
He's not sure how long they've been stuck here, now. It was probably only days, but it felt like fucking years, really. This might have had something to do with the fact that the hours just kind of bled together, and when one finds themselves without a physical body that lacks the need for sleep for over a year, time sort of becomes irrelevant.
The rubber ball rolls off his palm as he tosses it back at the floor, catching it easily a second later.
The shit he puts up with. Seriously.
From outside, he can vaguely hear the sound of the wind whistling past the glass windows, stopping short of the brick frame of the building Wash and Church were currently in. He feels groggy, a little unfocused, wonders if it has to do with the lack of sleep ( tended to make him paranoid, hysteric ), and he lets the ball drop away from his fingers as he tilts his head back against the door, closing his eyes. ]
Ugh.
[ The strange noises emitting from just beyond the door are oddly comforting, strangely soothing, and they lull him just a little, pry and tug quietly at the corners of his mind and pull him down down down. ]
Church had slept, but not really. It seemed like his sleeping patterns were random at best, and his body wore down at the most inconvenient of times. It's still dark outside ( dark and fucking cold ), and Church has his back pressed against the door leading outside, bouncing a ball down against the floor beneath him.
He's not sure how long they've been stuck here, now. It was probably only days, but it felt like fucking years, really. This might have had something to do with the fact that the hours just kind of bled together, and when one finds themselves without a physical body that lacks the need for sleep for over a year, time sort of becomes irrelevant.
The rubber ball rolls off his palm as he tosses it back at the floor, catching it easily a second later.
The shit he puts up with. Seriously.
From outside, he can vaguely hear the sound of the wind whistling past the glass windows, stopping short of the brick frame of the building Wash and Church were currently in. He feels groggy, a little unfocused, wonders if it has to do with the lack of sleep ( tended to make him paranoid, hysteric ), and he lets the ball drop away from his fingers as he tilts his head back against the door, closing his eyes. ]
Ugh.
[ The strange noises emitting from just beyond the door are oddly comforting, strangely soothing, and they lull him just a little, pry and tug quietly at the corners of his mind and pull him down down down. ]