| [Mar. 7th, 2008|07:28 am] |
"Don' need clothes," Ryouma muttered rebelliously. Clothes wouldn't keep him conscious, and they certainly wouldn't keep him on his feet. They would probably help with the coldness factor, but he could deal with that on his own. He just needed chakra, adrenaline, energy. Soldier pills.
More blood would help too, but it sounded like that was looming in his future anyhow. Soldier pills weren't. Ryouma had never met a medic who approved of the false burst of energy they offered, or of the crash that inevitably followed an overdose. The kind of overdose where you'd eaten practically nothing else for a three-day mission, and the kind of crash where you'd run out four hours ago and still had to make it back...
His free hand was shaking. He hadn't noticed it before, but he couldn't pull his eyes away now.
"'m serious," he said. "Crashing." And concussed, and bleeding, and damn if this wasn't an excellent way to reinforce all of their bad opinions about rookies. |
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