(no subject)
[There is the sound of a crash as Simon fumbles into the table which holds the phone. A familiar sounding groan...]
...
[There's silence, beyond the rustling of Simon getting back to his feet, and pulling on his clothes.]
... Boota?
... What's--
[And there's fear sparked somewhere in his heart--but it can't fight past the deadness in his eyes, or the sag in his shoulders...
He goes quiet.]
...
[There's silence, beyond the rustling of Simon getting back to his feet, and pulling on his clothes.]
... Boota?
... What's--
[And there's fear sparked somewhere in his heart--but it can't fight past the deadness in his eyes, or the sag in his shoulders...
He goes quiet.]