Bertie W. Higgs (cloudofsmoke) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-10 13:05:00 |
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He wasn't in great shape. He really shouldn't have been moving around much. His femur was regrown, but hurt with every movement. The bite on his arm was healing but the bones in his wrist weren't likely to be okay for another few days. And that was with proper medical care. Which he wasn't getting here. Bertie pushed himself out of bed and collected the half pack of cigarettes he had left, the dictaquill he'd borrowed from Gladys and his journal. His wand was in it's holster, his wallet was in his pocket. He had everything he needed. He was mobile enough to go. He stood, wincing at the pressure on his bad leg but staying steady. This wasn't a difficult decision. He had a son to protect. And more, he wasn't going to live in a tent. The Ministry would always be there. The Ministry was the constant. Their ideals had lost. That was all. Bertie disappeared with a soft pop. Back home. The agenda was simply wards and clothes. And then off to the in-laws with Elizabeth and Terence. It was going to be a long night. |