Aaron isn't sure if she's going to come back or-- or if he's supposed to find her again or what.
He hasn't split since before (I fucked up) yesterday; he doesn't now. It would seem... fake, somehow. And the last thing he needs is (sorry Roy) to have all the most dangerous parts of him tied up in a nice neat package and walking around independently.
At the moment, he's pacing back and forth in his room, with ridiculous slept-in clothes and ridiculous slept-on hair.
In a minute maybe he'll clean up a bit and go looking for Adiva.
In the vein of doing thingsChainsaw tells you to, Pyth is hanging around the main bar in a giant baggy sweater with some Latin on the front.
Her face is rather splendidly decorated in an array of bruise colours from deep reddish purple to pale yellow-green, darkest around her eye and fading out in splotches over her cheeks.
Half the time she forgets about it entirely, until she goes to adjust her glasses (which, thankfully, she wasn't wearing when this all went down).
It's late afternoon for her, about eight or nine hours after Chainsaw left.
He's been doing the rounds; after Pyth and Adiva, Nita is the next obvious stop.
So he charms a room number and a picnic basket out of Bar (She's been working her ass off and she could use a little pick-me-up, don't you think?) and wanders down the hall past the stairs, humming cheerfully under his breath.
Nita's door is marked with her name in neat copperplate over a little wreath (rowan twigs and leaves, studded with tiny red flowers that definitely didn't grow on a planet with Earth's level of gravity).
Comments 358
It's the morning.
Aaron isn't sure if she's going to come back or-- or if he's supposed to find her again or what.
He hasn't split since before (I fucked up) yesterday; he doesn't now. It would seem... fake, somehow. And the last thing he needs is (sorry Roy) to have all the most dangerous parts of him tied up in a nice neat package and walking around independently.
At the moment, he's pacing back and forth in his room, with ridiculous slept-in clothes and ridiculous slept-on hair.
In a minute maybe he'll clean up a bit and go looking for Adiva.
In a minute.
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"...Hi."
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(It's delivered so easily it can only have been rehearsed.)
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Her face is rather splendidly decorated in an array of bruise colours from deep reddish purple to pale yellow-green, darkest around her eye and fading out in splotches over her cheeks.
Half the time she forgets about it entirely, until she goes to adjust her glasses (which, thankfully, she wasn't wearing when this all went down).
It's late afternoon for her, about eight or nine hours after Chainsaw left.
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She thought she was okay.
". . . Pyth?"
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Crooked grin.
"Hi. Not as bad as it looks. I swear I'm just gonna make a sign and hold it up every time I see somebody I know."
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So he charms a room number and a picnic basket out of Bar (She's been working her ass off and she could use a little pick-me-up, don't you think?) and wanders down the hall past the stairs, humming cheerfully under his breath.
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He knocks-- or, well, drums his knuckles against the middle of the door.
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A moment later, the door opens.
"Ye--"
Blink.
"Hi?"
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