| Better Than It Was. [Closed to Genma and Raidou] | [Oct. 18th, 2008|03:22 am] |
[Set five days after Incident at Shimabashi and the afternoon of And Other Such Expletives.]
When Raidou woke up it was to find his head on the far side of fuzzy-feeling and his bare back stuck to the sheets. As returns to consciousness went, that one ranked up with sucks out loud. He gave his ceiling a disgruntled look, feeling more tired than when he'd actually gone to sleep, and peeled himself off the bed. A glance at the clock revealed it was early evening; he'd missed most of the day sleeping.
But at least he hadn't managed to burst any stitches, he'd just--oozed enough to make his bandages seriously sticky. And the painkillers he'd swallowed before he'd fallen down with vague aims of hitting the bed had worn off so much it wasn't even funny. His back hurt.
Still, between him and the shinobi guard, he wasn't the dead one.
A shower was too much trouble. Instead he splashed his face in the sink, changed his bandages with not a little wincing--and some relief when he found the wound wasn't still bleeding, just crusty--and dry-swallowed another handful of painkillers. Then he tossed on one of his looser t-shirts and dug around for some jeans. And deodorant. Lots of deodorant. He smelled about as appealing as roadkill. Even if Genma still had his cold--and all the sinus-blocked fun that came with it--Raidou doubted he'd appreciate the nasal orchestra that came from two days of running and fighting as a wake-up call.
Assuming Genma was still napping in the afternoons, that was. He'd had come back from his last mission as sick as a dog; he was probably still catching as much sleep as possible.
Or he would be until Raidou dragged him out of bed. He needed someone to talk to about the whole Kaito situation (They'd given him his own rookie? Seriously? What the hell, Intel?), and that had Genma's name written all over it.
But first he wanted to drink enough coffee to drown in. |
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