A Hospital Bed, Somewhere in Los Angeles, Very Late Saturday Night
Staring at the room's small television instead of the ceiling for a change, Callisto flipped through the channels, just like she'd been doing all night. She knew that she should be sleeping, but every time she closed her eyes there were (I kinda like you...cool, smoothly muscled, flesh under fingertips...This, now, it's nice) images, and she found she preferred the bland infomercials and blander tele-evangelists. Anyway, it wasn't like there was anyone who'd even care whether she was getting a good night's sleep, or that a lack thereof would affect how she was healing, at least no one who wasn't getting paid to care.
She changed the channel yet again. It took several moments to realise just what was playing, but when she did she hurled the remote at Liam Neeson's head hard enough to crack the television screen.
Callisto scowled and rolled as far onto her side as she was able, telling herself that her eyes were only watering because it was late and she hadn't slept. Besides, she'd never liked that movie anyway.
She changed the channel yet again. It took several moments to realise just what was playing, but when she did she hurled the remote at Liam Neeson's head hard enough to crack the television screen.
Callisto scowled and rolled as far onto her side as she was able, telling herself that her eyes were only watering because it was late and she hadn't slept. Besides, she'd never liked that movie anyway.