{ w h o } Gil and Carter { w h a t } Sick Gil is grumpy. Stubborn Gil is stubborn. { w h e n } Thursday afternoon { w h e r e } In between the smaller tents { r a t i n g } PG { s t a t u s } Complete
Gil couldn't deny any more that he was sick. He had tried his stubbornest, attributing his cough to a stale pack of smokes and his headache to late nights and his general rotten feeling to whatever the hell that greasy meat in the dining tent had been.
But no. Four days of hacking and wheezing and Gil had to admit he was sick. He'd caught whatever bug it was sweeping the carnival, and that meant changing his act to one that didn't involve submerging himself in cold water over and over. At least until the damn thing ran its course.
Which meant more rope. More rope than he'd anticipated needing until winter. Gil had put in a supply order-- a meticulously detailed one-- but in the meantime he headed towards his tent loaded down with armfuls of rope bought and borrowed from other tents, other acts.
Possibly more rope than he could carry in one trip without it looping around his body tripping and choking and killing him, but damn it, Gil was stubborn.