(no subject)
[takes place after this]
Lloyd didn't know how long he stayed down, and he didn't give much of a shit, either. His mind was so blank he could have easily passed out without even noticing... or maybe he had, who the hell knew. But eventually, the freaky apathy began to wear off, like a limb starting to regain circulation, and he dragged himself to his feet, swaying lightly.
Flagg wasn't around, but it didn't matter. It felt like he was fucking everywhere. His presence had clung to Lloyd, and maybe he was just imagining it, but he thought he could smell him on his skin, in his sweat -- hell, why not just go ahead and tattoo the bastard's name on his ass, signed with a goddamn smiley face? That would sure seal the deal. Flagg had found Lloyd from all the way across the afterlife, and it was too late to go playing hide and seek.
I'll be seeing you, Lloyd. I just know it.
It was that fucking stone, that's what it was, and Lloyd suddenly wanted nothing more than tear the goddamn thing off and throw it away into the jungle, but he couldn't find the clasp, and the only thing he accomplished by pulling the chain was making himself acutely aware of how fucked he was.
He left it alone. There was only one thing he could do, and that was getting too drunk to think or care. It wasn't the most long-term kind of plan, he supposed, but nobody had ever accused him of being a fucking mastermind.
Lloyd didn't know how long he stayed down, and he didn't give much of a shit, either. His mind was so blank he could have easily passed out without even noticing... or maybe he had, who the hell knew. But eventually, the freaky apathy began to wear off, like a limb starting to regain circulation, and he dragged himself to his feet, swaying lightly.
Flagg wasn't around, but it didn't matter. It felt like he was fucking everywhere. His presence had clung to Lloyd, and maybe he was just imagining it, but he thought he could smell him on his skin, in his sweat -- hell, why not just go ahead and tattoo the bastard's name on his ass, signed with a goddamn smiley face? That would sure seal the deal. Flagg had found Lloyd from all the way across the afterlife, and it was too late to go playing hide and seek.
I'll be seeing you, Lloyd. I just know it.
It was that fucking stone, that's what it was, and Lloyd suddenly wanted nothing more than tear the goddamn thing off and throw it away into the jungle, but he couldn't find the clasp, and the only thing he accomplished by pulling the chain was making himself acutely aware of how fucked he was.
He left it alone. There was only one thing he could do, and that was getting too drunk to think or care. It wasn't the most long-term kind of plan, he supposed, but nobody had ever accused him of being a fucking mastermind.