Post by Tobias Sebastian Butler on Jan 8, 2013 20:55:20 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Fallen Angel... Can you mend my Tainted Wings?. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Tobias awoke slowly, his senses carefully resurfaceing one by one. Cold... he was so cold. Why was he so cold? And his head was killing him. How much had he drank last night? He gave a soft groan, opening his mouth slightly to lick his painfully dry lips. Did... he taste blood? Fuck, he hoped not. If he'd gotten beat up by a client, he wouldnt be able to work for a few days. No one wanted to buy a trick covered in bruises. Could he have passed out and hit his head? That might explain the headache and the taste, if he'd bitten his lip or something when he fell... And what was that beeping noise? His eyelids twitched slightly before he tried to open them, wincing at the light. Bright, so fucking bright. Why was everything so bright? He wasnt still tripping... he couldnt feel headaches when he was high. Did Zana leave the lights on again? Damn her, electricity wasnt fucking cheap. But wait... Zana was gone, wasnt she? Yeah... she was gone. So why were the lights on? His thoughts slowly began to fall in line as his head stopped spinning so rapidly, letting him think more clearly. He opened his eyes again, lifting a hand to keep the lights from shining into them as he tried to look around the room. White... floresent lighting... metal bedframes... he definately wasnt at home. So where was he? He gave another groan as he slowly sat up in the bed, moving his heand to touch his head. His hair felt slightly sticky, and was spiked where whatever it was had dried. But he couldnt find a wound. Maybe it wasnt blood? Maybe he'd passed out in something sticky, like spilled juice or something? The beeping noise drew his attention to machines set up near his bed, and he blinked a few moments as his mind registered what he was looking at. The machines were connected to him... to his arm. An IV, too? He was in a hospital. Fuck. What had he gotten into? Had he been beaten? Mugged? Had he overdosed? Whatever it was, he apparently hadnt died from it. Which meant he needed to get out of here, before someone came back to check on him. He couldnt afford this shit. He didnt even want to imagine the amount of clients he'd have to service to try and pay off this IV, or the ambulance ride that probably brought him here. Fuck that. Shivering slightly, he moved his hand to lightly prod the area around the IV in his arm, watching the monitors as he started to peel back the medical tape. If they started going off, the nurses would rush to him, and getting out would be more difficult. Dec. 9, 11:30am |
