(no subject)
[OOM: Entr'acte: Borrowing a wheelbarrow.]
When Fakir pushes the bar door open, his right uniform sleeve pulls back, to show an arm wrapped in clean bandages. Fakir's left arm is also bandaged. There are probably bandages under his clothes, too, and he looks more than a bit pale.
But Fakir's here, after all. I didn't expect to come back.
Fakir settles himself at a table in the center of the room, with a hearty meal and a book.
(What is this feeling? It's the heartshard of actually relaxing.)
When Fakir pushes the bar door open, his right uniform sleeve pulls back, to show an arm wrapped in clean bandages. Fakir's left arm is also bandaged. There are probably bandages under his clothes, too, and he looks more than a bit pale.
But Fakir's here, after all. I didn't expect to come back.
Fakir settles himself at a table in the center of the room, with a hearty meal and a book.
(What is this feeling? It's the heartshard of actually relaxing.)