WHO: Cato and Open (or Dice!) WHAT: Getting off the train WHEN: Friday evening WHERE: Shanghai WARNINGS: This is Cato. STATUS: Open, or !dice
Cato'd had far more than enough of lying in bed. He'd had his bandage changed that morning, and it appeared that the stitches and medicine he'd had were doing their job. It hurt, yeah, but he could handle that. Pain was nothing. He'd known plenty of pain in his life. But the train was stopped, and he had a chance to get off of it. To get out. To get some air. To think. About the things Glimmer had said, and what that made him feel.
To be honest, he didn't fucking like feeling anything. Feelings made you weak. They made you hesitate, made you care. And killing people was harder when you cared. At least, that's what they said. He didn't want to become some damned little pussy who cried over everything he killed, or let the guilt eat him, like he'd seen happen before with people who just weren't cut out for it. He'd worked too hard to get where he was. Too fucking hard.
Still...
These new feelings inside him were...confusing. To say the least. And he needed some air and solitude to think them through, before they drove him mad.
He'd grabbed a few more bandages from the infirmary before heading out - he wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but he had been taught to do basic first aid for obvious reasons. If the wound broke open, he'd be able to get it closed again. He hoped.
His sword in one hand, his other hand pressed against the wound as if that would somehow stop it from breaking open, he stepped from the train, taking a deep breath of the clear air. Yeah. This would be great. This was exactly what he needed, a break from the train until the world started making sense again.