| [Jun. 14th, 2009|07:20 pm] |
They hadn't even tied him. They'd dropped him, but they hadn't tied him. If Asuma had been able to move, he would've made them pay six times over for the insult. Seven times over...
But he couldn't move, and that was probably the point.
"Sonuvabitch," he mangled out, words twisting together, and tried to focus on Tsume. She was kneeling over him, hands yanked uncomfortably behind her back, looking for all the world like she was crouching down to pray--if she hadn't been naked. Her pale blue eyes glittered fiercely in a face burnished by the sun. Her dogtags still swung freely between small breasts.
It was amazing how quickly he'd gotten used to looking at her and seeing every naked inch. Old scars, older stretchmarks--he'd lay a decent wager she'd had kids--bruises dappled like leaf patterns, hitting every colour imaginable. Raw lash marks curled around her ribcage, only just visible.
"They're... waiting f'r'e drop," he mumbled, eyes sliding closed. He yanked them open again, struggling to stay awake. The landscape rolled; ocean swells or drugs in his blood, he couldn't tell. Might've been the concussion. "Before... midn'ght..."
Tsume responded, asking a question, but he drifted out. Tightness constricted his chest with each slow breath, placed dull pressure on his hips and backs. Probably bandages, but he didn't have the will to look.
He came back to himself when the world jarred and Tsume snarled. Dull sensation swept through his lower back, whistles split the air.
"Kick him again!"
Payment, he thought blearily. Even the dregs of the ocean had friends who mourned them.
A sharp order cracked across the deck. There were disappointed mumbles, then the movement behind him was gone. Asuma tried to drag his arms beneath him, but his muscles didn't respond. Nothing responded. It was an effort to even make his fingers twitch.
"Drugs," he muttered, disgusted, in case Tsume hadn't already figured it out. "Hate drugs..."
The sun was warm on his shoulders. The deck rocked gently, like a hammock lifted by the breeze. If he closed his eyes, he was back in Suna, idling away a week by the coast, enjoying the company of tropical girls and their amazing penchant for incredibly alcoholic drinks...
He faded out again. |
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