(no subject)
July 18, 2012
4:34pm
Jack only briefly opens his eyes before closing them tightly again, his eyes hurting at the bright light. Even with the blinds closed it's too bright in the room for him, and he moves to roll over onto his back, let himself wake up and his eyes adjust to the light.
As soon as he starts to move, pain streaks through his ribcage, his shoulder, his head; every muscle feels stiff and sore. He makes it onto his back with a groan. Fuck, he's getting too old for this kind of thing.
He opens his eyes again, acclimating them to the light before looking around for a clock. There's one on the bedside table to his right, and he squints at the digital readout. 4:37. For a moment his sleep-fogged brain wonders why the streetlight outside is so bright and where Chris is, until it kicks in that that's 4:37 in the afternoon, not in the morning. Christ, he's slept for about 18 hours straight. No wonder his muscles have stiffened up.
Lying in bed isn't going to help that any, and so he moves to the edge of the bed, sitting up slowly. The pounding in his head only gets worse with the change in blood pressure, but it provides something of an incentive to get to his feet and head for the bathroom. Painkillers definitely sound like a welcome idea at the moment.
Jack feels a little more human after a long shower, the hot water easing some of the knots that had formed in his muscles as he'd slept, but as he walks downstairs, he's still feeling rather stiff and sore. He spots Caiti in the living room as soon as he reaches the foot of the stairs, and part of him wants to put this discussion off one more day but he knows it'll be better to get it over with. He's not sure how long Caiti will be staying, and it'll be all too easy to keep putting it off.
Grabbing a cup of coffee from the kitchen, he walks into the living room, taking a seat in an overstuffed armchair, his movements a little stiff and slow.
"Hi, Caiti. How're you doing?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee. He's doing his best not to seem nervous.
4:34pm
Jack only briefly opens his eyes before closing them tightly again, his eyes hurting at the bright light. Even with the blinds closed it's too bright in the room for him, and he moves to roll over onto his back, let himself wake up and his eyes adjust to the light.
As soon as he starts to move, pain streaks through his ribcage, his shoulder, his head; every muscle feels stiff and sore. He makes it onto his back with a groan. Fuck, he's getting too old for this kind of thing.
He opens his eyes again, acclimating them to the light before looking around for a clock. There's one on the bedside table to his right, and he squints at the digital readout. 4:37. For a moment his sleep-fogged brain wonders why the streetlight outside is so bright and where Chris is, until it kicks in that that's 4:37 in the afternoon, not in the morning. Christ, he's slept for about 18 hours straight. No wonder his muscles have stiffened up.
Lying in bed isn't going to help that any, and so he moves to the edge of the bed, sitting up slowly. The pounding in his head only gets worse with the change in blood pressure, but it provides something of an incentive to get to his feet and head for the bathroom. Painkillers definitely sound like a welcome idea at the moment.
Jack feels a little more human after a long shower, the hot water easing some of the knots that had formed in his muscles as he'd slept, but as he walks downstairs, he's still feeling rather stiff and sore. He spots Caiti in the living room as soon as he reaches the foot of the stairs, and part of him wants to put this discussion off one more day but he knows it'll be better to get it over with. He's not sure how long Caiti will be staying, and it'll be all too easy to keep putting it off.
Grabbing a cup of coffee from the kitchen, he walks into the living room, taking a seat in an overstuffed armchair, his movements a little stiff and slow.
"Hi, Caiti. How're you doing?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee. He's doing his best not to seem nervous.