capnjohnhart (capnjohnhart) wrote in whoville, @ 2008-09-30 03:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | capnjohnhart, tenthdoc |
Open-(Anna's Ten)-Finished
John was feeling good. More than good. In fact it could be said that he was feeling positively radiant.
He'd rested up well with Jamie, going back to the hotel and John's room once they'd woken up. They'd showered and cleaned up together, then got mucky again, then clean again before finally getting out of the bathroom. Jamie had cleaned and checked John's wounds, deciding to leave his chest unbound for now, figuring it'd heal up quicker that way. It was mostly closed over now anyway. They'd enthusiastically eaten and attacked what they called breakfast, but which was probably closer to lunch in actuality, having made a picnic of it on John's bed.
After much kissing and petting they'd finally trotted off their separate ways, agreeing to meet up and check in with each other when they could.
John had the inklings of a PLAN, and he found himself wandering around some of the shops for bits and pieces before settling down under a tree near the hotel.
He was barechested, proudly showing off his healing deep scratches and ragged bitemarks that made up his potential scar from nipple to nipple, and the parallel vertical tracks of the lesser nail scratches that ran around his torso, up over his shoulders and throat and under his jacket. He hurt, but it was a good deep hurt that curled and *purred* through him, sending pleasant reminders to his brain ever so often when he moved or stretched skin.
Out in front of him were a worked leather strap that looked very similar to his wrist strap, his own wrist strap, several different leatherworking awls, what looked like watch parts, and several small electrical componants. At least one of which was emitting a regular high-pitched *Beep* in a curious fashion. He was whistling loudly as he worked, content in the familiar actions of working with technology, and only paused when a shadow crossed over him.
"Hey, outta' my light," he said squinting up, shielding his eyes, trying to make out who the culprit was. "Man's tryin' to work here."