Who: Henry Baldwin [Open Narrative] What:HE LIVES Grumpycat wakes up When: Wednesday, January 14th, late morning/early afternoon Where: New Waverly alley and then streets Warnings: Mentions of: depression, suicide, violence, death. Probably language Status: Open Narrative
The first sensation that comes back is cold. It pulls him out of something, startles him and has him open his eyes in a 'this isn't home, this isn't my bed' kind of way. Home is quiet and warm, and this isn't. The second sensation is pain, and with that comes the memory. Cursing loudly he tries sitting up, and only get's an inch or so off the ground before his arms give out and he lands back down with a thump and more swearing.
Turns out, four hundred plus years of living gives you a very extensive swearing vocabulary.
He can't do much more then lay there though while the pain of the wounds runs through him. The broken ribs from the punches, the concussion from the hit to his head, and the last (but never the least) the bullet wounds he'd sustained. It all sparks like fire on his nerves and he lays shivering and wincing as it takes it's toll and reminds him that he's alive. Again.
If there’s anything that he likes the least of this entire mess, it's this. The existential crisis that lurks just behind the corner, the one that wants to remind him he doesn't remember anything (again) is something he can push aside. Deal with later. Maybe with a bottle or five of whiskey. The pain? The pain doesn't let him do that. He can do nothing but lay there and wait for it to pass.
It feels like forever, but it's only an hour before he can find his way to sitting up and take stock. He's lost his shoes and his wallet but not his clothes. He doesn't blame the people who took either objects. Money doesn't last (he'd know) and shoes are shoes. It's replaceable. And he's been on the streets for a bit, just another poor soul lost to the chaos. It's mercy enough he hadn't needed to wake up in a coroner's office somewhere, trapped in the little closet they keep the bodies. Once was enough for that.
He shakes the memory of that off before it lingers and runs his hands through his grimy hair and over the dirt on his face. He still hasn't gotten up because he's working to that. He always feels his age when he gets up again, and his legs will just give out if he rushes it. He knows because if anything he's very good about learning from his mistakes. It only took a decade of hitting himself on the same rock. No one can say he isn't a touch bit stubborn.
He focuses on other things. He feels thirsty but it's not too bad. Same with the hunger. When everything shuts down, he's spared from knowing how long he was without either. He'll need to get his strength back, but it'll keep. He wonders what he's missed, how long he's been out, exactly. No phone means no date though, so he'll have to figure it out later. He knows he's got his home because he makes sure his rent is always taken out and given to whoever he rents from automatically. Because this has happened enough to need a system. Not always by playing the martyr, but because sometimes the darkness is just too strong and he falls. And this system ensures he's got a place to come back to.
The job though, the job maybe not so much. It makes him wince. He likes teaching kids, likes having a reason to get up in the morning. He'll have to think of an excuse, or talk privately with the principal and see if he can continue that. The coroner thing is just a hobby really, just something he does because it's something new. The teaching he actually enjoys.
He sighs and sets his hand on the wall, slowly picking himself up. One of the homeless sees him and gives him a hand, knowing him from one of the various soup kitchens he spends his time in. He gives the homeless man a grateful nod, and wishes he had more to give. The homeless man waves him off before letting Henry stand on his feet. It takes him five long minutes to feel like he can actually move without falling over.
During that time, the same man that picked him up is shoving a worn coat in his hands, and waves off Henry's protests. 'The least he can do', the homeless man says and makes Henry put the coat on before slipping back into the edges of society. Henry reminds himself to come back, and return the favor.
He struggles into the coat, feeling tired and old, before taking a step. He's not feeling like he'll keel over anymore so he sets his hands in his pockets and slowly makes his way out of the alley. He winced at the loud noises once he hit the streets and huddles up closer in the coat. He always felt like such an outsider after waking up. Someone watching, not really partaking.
He rolled his eyes at the train of thought before walking onto the pathway and towards one of the window shops. There he paused and watched the muted news on one of the displays. He could do this at his home, and get his bearings a little better, but right now he just kind of feels like staring at the muted screen a little, and to try and feel a little more human.