(no subject)
The Door opens. Seymour staggers through. He smells of rotting meat, wears a dirt-stained navy blue suit and matching tie, and has no glasses. The Door closes immediately behind him - but there's the impression that wherever he was coming from was very dark.
Seymour knows the sounds of Milliways well enough, even if he can't see it. He stands, gaping, utterly surprised.
Frowning, he feels his wrist for a pulse. It's there. It's...faint. Fainter than it should be? Seymour doesn't regularly feel his pulse, so he's got no clue.
Seymour slowly, stumblingly, with hands outstretched to avoid bumping into people, makes his way to Bar. "I need my glasses," he says. His appear. He puts them on, frowning. One of the lenses is cracked.
The stench of rotting meat clings to him as he watches the bar, his expression dazed, looking like he's seeing this place for the first time. Things haven't caught up with him yet.
Who will be around when they do?
Seymour knows the sounds of Milliways well enough, even if he can't see it. He stands, gaping, utterly surprised.
Frowning, he feels his wrist for a pulse. It's there. It's...faint. Fainter than it should be? Seymour doesn't regularly feel his pulse, so he's got no clue.
Seymour slowly, stumblingly, with hands outstretched to avoid bumping into people, makes his way to Bar. "I need my glasses," he says. His appear. He puts them on, frowning. One of the lenses is cracked.
The stench of rotting meat clings to him as he watches the bar, his expression dazed, looking like he's seeing this place for the first time. Things haven't caught up with him yet.
Who will be around when they do?