(no subject)
Horatio sat stiffly on the flat of a treestump, his eyes fixed in concentration on the copse of trees before him. It was day four since his unfortunate over-indulgence with the moonshine, and still his throat troubled him. He was uncertain as to whether this was due to the liquid's astonishingly corrosive qualities, or due to the fact that he had spent the better part of an hour belting out sea shanties at the top of his voice. "Oh god," he whispered and closed his eyes in horror at the memory.
Now Horatio wanted something to soothe his throat. Research had shown there to be a shortage of black tea on the island, and while Horatio hadn't yet steeled himself to brave this "green tea" in the Compound's storerooms, he did recall something called "bark tea", an often-lauded beverage if one lived with Constable Fraser. It didn't sound particularly palatable, but Horatio was comforted by the fact that at least it wasn't green. And so Horatio rose and approached the nearest tree, giving the bark a doubtful poke. When this failed to produce tea, he leaned over and sniffed at the bark. Well, it wasn't entirely unpleasant...Horatio looked around, and, seeing no one, gave the tree an experimental lick.
Now Horatio wanted something to soothe his throat. Research had shown there to be a shortage of black tea on the island, and while Horatio hadn't yet steeled himself to brave this "green tea" in the Compound's storerooms, he did recall something called "bark tea", an often-lauded beverage if one lived with Constable Fraser. It didn't sound particularly palatable, but Horatio was comforted by the fact that at least it wasn't green. And so Horatio rose and approached the nearest tree, giving the bark a doubtful poke. When this failed to produce tea, he leaned over and sniffed at the bark. Well, it wasn't entirely unpleasant...Horatio looked around, and, seeing no one, gave the tree an experimental lick.