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Locke Lamora is laughing to himself.
Currently lying in bed, looking at the ceiling with one arm limp at his side and the other playing with a very pointy knife only inches from his face, it's rather an odd sound with more than a little bit of a note of hysteria. "Should've waited, I know, Jean." A sort of gasping choke as he hisses a curse under his breath, tensing briefly before reaching over, picking up a glass, and tossing back a few more pills. He doesn't know how to use them, exactly, but 'painkillers' sounded like a good idea at the time. "Such a nice guy, though. Such a nice guy. Godamn but it hurts. Where's one of those gods damned poultices when you need one?"
He starts laughing again. "Great. Just great. Gods...'oh please, it'll never happen' my ass."
He trails off into rather more pithy curses, interspersed with a few old names, and very intently not looking at his mess of an arm. Thanks to his constant movement and lack of sanitation, it's not doing so well. Though, in typical Locke fashion, without anyone to carry him to someone who'll take care of it, he's not going anywhere.
Currently lying in bed, looking at the ceiling with one arm limp at his side and the other playing with a very pointy knife only inches from his face, it's rather an odd sound with more than a little bit of a note of hysteria. "Should've waited, I know, Jean." A sort of gasping choke as he hisses a curse under his breath, tensing briefly before reaching over, picking up a glass, and tossing back a few more pills. He doesn't know how to use them, exactly, but 'painkillers' sounded like a good idea at the time. "Such a nice guy, though. Such a nice guy. Godamn but it hurts. Where's one of those gods damned poultices when you need one?"
He starts laughing again. "Great. Just great. Gods...'oh please, it'll never happen' my ass."
He trails off into rather more pithy curses, interspersed with a few old names, and very intently not looking at his mess of an arm. Thanks to his constant movement and lack of sanitation, it's not doing so well. Though, in typical Locke fashion, without anyone to carry him to someone who'll take care of it, he's not going anywhere.