(no subject)

[cheevy]

Miniver is down in the bar today. He's curled up in one of the big chairs in front of the fireplace. Anyone watching might note that he is sitting very, very still. More so than usual. He's not even fidgeting. His right hand is wrapped up rather messily in white cloth. The other hand is holding a glass of whiskey. He moves only to sip it occasionally, and otherwise just stares into the fire blankly.

Don't poke him. But saying hello would be a welcome distraction from the dark bruises hidden under his clothing.

Note to self: Challenging one's fighting instructor just because you've come across a good metaphor is not a great idea.

Yeah, he got pwned.