Convalescence. It blows.
Especially if you're Locke.
He's bored, sore, and very nearly scared into staying in bed out of a combination of not wanting to die and pissing off Valen again. And because the last time he tried that stupid stunt after getting patched together, he couldn't even get up enough to get out of bed in the first place. It was too much effort.
So he's stuck tossing an orange from hand to hand - how he got it is anyone's guess - and staring at the ceiling, humming to himself and wincing whenever a note makes him twitch in a way that hurts. It's rather unfortunately often.
He looks a little better, if still paler and a little sicker than he should, but at least all the blood is cleaned up and not showing through so badly. Clean bandages make everything look a lot better than it really is. He wishes those stupid things would hurry up and heal, though. He's getting really sick of this.
But most of all, he's been thinking lately. And a lot about that odd fellow. Bergerac. He's just not sure what to think of him. It'll probably require another conversation to make up his mind. One where he's not half-dead and/or drunk on being half-dead.
He lets out a heavy sigh of boredom and then winces with a muttered curse, one hand going to his side and flinching.
"Really should learn not to do that," he mutters to himself, almost absently.
He's bored, sore, and very nearly scared into staying in bed out of a combination of not wanting to die and pissing off Valen again. And because the last time he tried that stupid stunt after getting patched together, he couldn't even get up enough to get out of bed in the first place. It was too much effort.
So he's stuck tossing an orange from hand to hand - how he got it is anyone's guess - and staring at the ceiling, humming to himself and wincing whenever a note makes him twitch in a way that hurts. It's rather unfortunately often.
He looks a little better, if still paler and a little sicker than he should, but at least all the blood is cleaned up and not showing through so badly. Clean bandages make everything look a lot better than it really is. He wishes those stupid things would hurry up and heal, though. He's getting really sick of this.
But most of all, he's been thinking lately. And a lot about that odd fellow. Bergerac. He's just not sure what to think of him. It'll probably require another conversation to make up his mind. One where he's not half-dead and/or drunk on being half-dead.
He lets out a heavy sigh of boredom and then winces with a muttered curse, one hand going to his side and flinching.
"Really should learn not to do that," he mutters to himself, almost absently.