Who: Marco and Lennon, and if anyone else wants to come along that's okay too. Where: Downstairs, then on the path to town. When: Around 11
Marco had hit that stage where his brain was demanding that he go out and find his next score, and because of it he was restless. Weak, but fucking restless. He needed to get out of the house. Maybe it was a good thing that the opportunity-- or demand, rather, --had presented itself to get out of the house.
Better was the fact that Marco didn't have to wander down alone. And thank god, because just getting down the stairs had been rough. He immediately went to the kitchen, forced himself to eat something, and made sure he had a water bottle on him. As he returned to the foyer, he already wished that he was back in bed. His body ached. If he made it down to the hospital, he decided, he was just going to stay there. He'd end up back at the mansion in the morning, presumably. It would be better than climbing uphill.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He didn't remember taking a seat on the floor, but that where he ended up waiting.