Dylan is (volatile) wrote in repose, @ 2017-05-28 15:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, dylan michaels, gwen riley |
Quicklog: Gwen R & Dylan M
[Cafeteria was noisy and his boots hurt. Fresh, leather wasn't broken in. Rubbed his ankle but didn't rub anything else to irritation, last fight had left him cleaned out, scoured off stains like bleach in the sink. He knew he looked like hell, last fight had split the skin over his cheekbone but lot of the men in regulation uniform looked the same way. Didn't look any different except for the tatt climbing out of the neck of regs cotton, blackish red. Picked up a tray, slid through a line of people that mixed army colors with lab coats. Kept to their tribes when they sat down. Dylan, he picked a bench that was open. Nobody sat there. Opened a series of salt packets and dredged his eggs with it.]