Sarge (rageandblow) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-06-06 20:49:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | # 2018 [06] june, ian terrell, james hawkins |
Who: Rodeo and Sarge
Where: Sarge's house, the Dog Park
What: waiting for the pale rider
When: Two days after the first blob shower
It's just another day. Sarge can hear people go about their usual business outside. Occasionally someone laughs, some kids are screeching. He hasn't been outside since they came back from the mall and he has no intentions of even going to the windows to look outside. Somewhere in the corner is his phone, he threw it a while ago and doesn’t care to pick it up. There is nobody around that he wants to talk to anyway, solitude suits him just fine. Time is measured by the spots of sunlight traveling across the cement floor, he never got around to put in a real floor. Whoever takes this over can do it, he supposes. Not that he cares, not anymore.
There are several bottles scattered around his bed and he used some of them as ashtrays. The place looks worse than usual but that is yet another thing he doesn't care about. A few more days and he will be dead, he knows. And it's alright. Rodeo has Addie back and a whole group of loyal friends. Sarge won't be needed anymore.
Sitting on the floor, a half empty bottle in hand, he looks even more unkempt than usual. His hair is sticking up in all directions and the usual scruff is on it's way to a beard. At some point he has been throwing bottles and clothes around, but he figures he has reached the acceptance stage. There is nothing he can do about it. He spilled some of the amber liquid on his shirt and pulls it off, cursing.
Somebody knocks and he huffs, rolling his eyes. "FUCK OFF!" It never works. There aren't that many visitors, and the one person that comes over has never been deterred by his insistence that he wants to be alone.