Malcolm Reynolds Aims to misbehave (intheblack) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-09-23 22:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | malcolm reynolds, robin hood |
Who:Mal and Robin
What:Attempts at apologies round 1, but it's Mal so it'll probably just be grumbles...
When:Tonight:
Where:His place
Warnings:EGC is for extremely grumpy captains.
An entire day had passed, Mal hadn't stirred from his sleep since Simon came to give him a sedative. He hadn't been very aware of what was going on around him when Lucifer decided to invade his mind with memories of the past, but he knew people were near by. He knew not once did they leave him to his own devices, and that kind of loyalty from people that weren't his crew wasn't something he expected. The sedatives were good, nice. Most importantly they were dreamless. Just simple darkness and he was grateful. He would have to remember not to harass Simon as much for the next week or so, as he was sure his Prissy McDoctor had been responsible for the dosage. There was no one in the medbay Mal trusted more. Not that he would ever tell Simon that anyway.
His hand finally twitched, and his eyes followed soon there after until they slid groggily open. He felt hungover. His entire body ached but his vision was clear. He couldn't be hung over if that happened. Yet still he had a hard time pushing himself out of his bed. It was comfortable and he wanted little more than to disappear. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so damn small, and he owed the Devil a punch in the face for that feeling. He rubbed a hand against his face and groaned in discomfort as he sat up, dark burgundy hued blankets pooling at his waist. He was still dressed in pants, but at some point he'd taken off his shirt at least. His hands were red and bandaged thanks to his attempts to scrub away his sins.
"Ta ma de" He scowled in Chinese and ran a hand through his messy hair. He winced some as his hand touched a bruise on his jawline and he opened his mouth to crack said jaw. Rising from his bed he made his way toward the sink and cupped water in his hands, washing his face with it in attempt to wake up. The last two days seemed like a horrible nightmare. His room was empty and quiet, but he wasn't sure about the living room. He didn't particularly want to go and check either. He stared down at the running water until he swore it changed to blood red and he switched off the faucet. It didn't. His mind continued playing tricks on him despite Lucifer's lack of presence and he made a sound of discontent as he gently blotted water off his face and returned to sit at the edge of his bed both emotionally and physically drained.
It took him longer than normal to convince himself getting up was okay. Especially when his head disagreed, but he needed water. The cup by his bedside was empty. He grabbed at a Chinese style robe and the glass and peered into the living area. It too was quiet-so it seemed safe. Cautiously he padded out into it toward the small kitchen area to pour a water glass, unaware of anyone's presence in that room at that point. He was still quite a bit out of sorts. Felt like he was walking on auto pilot.