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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 17, 2012 14:18:16 GMT -8
Doctor Victor was promised a nice room, and here it is. This was the two bedroom apartment of a rather posh businessman. The furniture is rich black leather, the bedding impeccable and luxurious. Unfortunately there is only one large bed, and the other 'bedroom' is an office. There are deluxe appointments, including various supplies for gourmet coffee making (If one can figure out how to heat it...)
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Suyoi
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 17, 2012 18:21:09 GMT -8
"This is adequate, I must say. And FURNISHED... almost, no, better than what I was picking out. I don't even think I'll need the chair from the restaurant now..." The doctor set the hamper just inside the door, the skip in his step evident. Dashed into the secondary bedroom and let out a loud 'Awww!' "It already has an office in here! I mean, it won't be terrible because it is not like I need a computer but I already have a filing system and everything set up. Just have to get rid of all the clutter. And look!" The doctor re-emerged on a high back office chair, dark leather, squeaky wheel and worn wooden arms clicking and banging about through the door. The doctor held his feet up and arms out like he was twelve. "These things are almost five hundred dollars new. Good taste indeed! Oh! Let's check out the bedroom! The guy probably worked so much he didn't even need to change his sheets! Oh, its like winning an apartment on the "Price is Right!" The youthful voice glowed out of him. It could almost be said the man giggled. He certainly let loose a very childish squee! "800 thread count Egyptian cotton charcoal grey! I think I've taken over my swarthy business twin!" The doctor spoke, dragging the sheet out into the living room, still crinkling the grey sheet between his fingertips. All that dropped to the floor when he stared at the chrome and black patent shine idol. "ESPRESSO!" The doctor almost tripped over his discarded sheet, fumbling a bit towards the counter space. The open and raided cabinet smacked him against the forehead, but he hardly notice. Inhaling deeply, he shuddered fully, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "I think I should learn one of those prayers Alex was saying. In caff-anium coff-icus percula-tum. Jah-vah!"
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 17, 2012 19:50:12 GMT -8
The apartment was straight out of a yuppie catalogue, it was nice in the sense that everything was high quality but it lacked any soul. The doctor was of course, in paradise. Perhaps he could raid another apartment, grab some things to make it more artistic. Some posters or some kind of sculptury thing. Maybe he's just mess it up slightly, the doctor would love that. He grinned, maybe a dog wasn't such a bad idea or a cat. The doctor was talking away, mostly to himself. Micah wandered over to the kitchen area which was sleek with steel and black tiles. Nobody cooked in here that was evident. The oven was still coated in plastic wrap as new as the fucking day it was brought. Everything in the kitchen was relatively untouched and yet extensively stocked. Obviously an apartment where appearance was everything. He glanced over to were the doctor was having an orgasm over grey sheets. It takes all sorts he guessed. He wandered over to the leather couch and slumped into it, it was pretty fucking comfortable he had to admit. At least it wasn't velour, that shit was gross. The ship had been full of it, the customers left bumprints everywhere. Why you'd want furniture like that was beyond him. The doctor had finished his unfruitful praise of the expresso gods, who unfortunately kow-towed to electricity. "Since we gonna be roomates, I uh.. I don't actually know your..uh name."
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Suyoi
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 17, 2012 20:26:58 GMT -8
The doctor shivered and blinked a bit at the disruption of his pleasure. He turned his body to face Micah, raised his head a little until he felt his formality snap. He slumped and looked towards the door- it was shut. He pouted a little and mumbled. "rls." Looking at Micah, he moved a bit closer and whispered into the Australian's ear. The voice was smoother than even the doctor expected. "Charles." He rocked back on his heels, his face contorting like he bit into a lime. "Please, Micah, hold that in confidence. I never thought I'd be a decent Charles. Aaron, or Trevor maybe. Not... Chuck MD. And, I can't believe I even told you that because it is just too personal..." With a heavy sigh, he moved and started pulling out drawers looking for a spoon. Dr. Victor had appeared sad by discovering only one spoon. He pulled it out and twirled it around between his thumb and finger. "So, about this ice cream. And for conversation..." He popped the lid open, scooping out a small, slightly melted spoon, holding it out as he continued his sentence. "I wondered what you wanted to do tonight." He held the ice cream on the spoon like a wand, waving it around, towards Micah.
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 17, 2012 22:01:50 GMT -8
"Charles, huh yeah that isn't going fucking to work..." Micah grinned, would he dare? Yes, he would. "Hmm perhaps Chazza would be better?" He said enjoying the look on the doctor's face, Micah hated that Australian nicknaming process, but in the doctor's case it was amusing. "... Relax, I'm kidding. I might stick with doctor or Viktor if you don't mind though. Watch where you aim that fucking thing, last thing I need is ice cream hair." Micah leaned towards the doctor smiling. "What would you like to do Chazza?" ( The doctor has stolen Micah's face )
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 17, 2012 22:07:00 GMT -8
Suddenly there is a knock at the door!
Whoever answers it finds... Zoe- "Hi, I remember the doctor liked this puppy Snoopi, does he want to take care of her? Otherwise, I'll keep her."
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 17, 2012 22:24:14 GMT -8
LOLOL inadvertent GM cockblock! SRY FELLAS! ;D
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Suyoi
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 17, 2012 22:25:52 GMT -8
The doctor moved the spoon dangerously close to Micah's lips, his eyes squinting. "Chazza sounds exotic. I actually might like you to say it a few mo-" The knock on the door caused the doctor to flinch, pitching the spoon and ice cream onto the counter with a clatter. A heavy sigh rolled out of the doctor's chest. Lifting a finger to pat Micah on the nose, he turned from the man. "A doctor's work is never done." Upon opening the door, the doctor looked downward at the small girl, holding the pooch. He opened his mouth to bark at the girl, but upon seeing the little thing perk up, he cooed instead. "Yes. Yes we will take Mimi. She will be our little guard dog. Yes you will! Thank you so much, Zoe, you deserve something special. I will be on the look out for your reward; you are so much more mature than the lot of rapscallions out there... yes you are! And you're just perfect and Oooo! I could brush your coat!" The doctor promptly kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot. The animal climbed up his chest, excited and eager as ever. "Ooo... I should get you something to play with so you don't keep us up all night unless there's a scary ghost- Aww! Don't put your paws over your eyes, little Mimi. Come now, I'm going to put you in living room and make you a bed. Here! You can have this old shirt! In you go!" Dr. Victor pulled his shirt off, buttons and all, over his head, setting the puppy in the small makeshift nest. He tenderly pet the small animal until it yawned sleepily at him. Once the animal was resting, kicking and no doubt dreaming about some huge piece of jerky or running in a field, the good doctor turned back to look at Micah. "Uh, I didn't... well, I mean... Look, it is just a puppy... well, it's probably not a puppy, but... Gah, it is a defense against the ghosts, okay? Don't look at me like that." He folded his arms over his chest, the pentacle scar just above his wrists. "Anyways, Micah, I was going to say... I need some sleep. Some good sleep. I will probably get up just before dawn, per usual... if I have a usual. And maybe work out a little with what I have. Are... are you okay with Mimi in here?" He began to remove the icky leather shoes, setting them by the back of the room, near the window sill. "I don't really have to tell you the ice cream is probably not going to make it through the night. It is rather warm in here." The last part came out almost like a purr from a half-panther half-domestic house cat. His approach back towards Micah included a detour to lock the door. He moved back to where he was standing, tossing the ice cream down the sink. With his shoulder turned, the raven gave Micah a stare to rival that of an over-protective brother, the darker flesh like a coat of paint. "You can touch the scar if you want to. I won't mind."
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 17, 2012 23:18:03 GMT -8
"No uh, I think I'm right. A scar is a scar after all. I won't rob you of those grey bits of fabric that tickle your fucking fancy, but I might see if there is a blanket I can nick if that's okay. Don't fucking wake me up if you do. I like to sleep in to a reasonable time." Micah stood up from from the couch giving the dog the evil eye. "I can't promise you emergency rations won't end up on the patio, if she pisses on my clothing or shits in my fucking shoes." Micah got up from the couch, making his way to the bedroom and grabbed a spare blanket from the cupboard before heading back. The couch was pretty comfortable and large enough to sleep without being foetal. The dog made odd yipping noises in her sleep. When the doctor disappeared into the bedroom, Micah picked the puppy up, and placed on the couch with him, waking it slightly in the process. It looked up at him bleary-eyed and went back to sleep with a huff. Micah closed his eyes and drifted slowly into sleep.
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 18, 2012 5:55:45 GMT -8
The dawn came up after the doctor who rose with the startling noisy sound of the birds. He began to look around his new bedroom and stared into the relative darkness. Rubbing his eyes, the doctor cast off the sheets and slid off the bed. He half expected to be snuggled by something adorable, cute and slightly unkept, but found no signs of the puppy. He also found no signs of Micah in the bedroom. Hadn't I left the door open?With a lonely sigh, Dr. Victor began a routine forgotten last night. He exercised; stretching and keeping his grunts to a minimum, the good doctor was shocked how his body began to creak, crackle and pop. Trying to continue became a little more painful; he realized he had exerted himself a bit the last 48 hours and was ashamed he couldn't handle more. Proceeding to the bathroom, the doctor picked up the razor he had found in the other room, along with a snippet of soap and mug. Scooping up a small amount of water into the mug, Dr. Victor began the tedious time of shaving in the half-light. It was still relatively easy, after all, since he had no goatee to shave around anymore; however, his face still reminded him how thick the hair used to be on his chin. The splashing of soapy water made him think of camping in the back yard; as a kid, he would 'run away' to the back yard a lot and 'live off the land' for a couple of nights. I guess deluding myself to what this is won't be so bad. The shave finished, the doctor dumped the water down the sink, scooped up more to splash his face and hair, and finished with brushing his teeth with his finger, applying some gender-neutral deodorant, cleaning his ears, and giving himself longing stares in the mirror. Tugging on the flannel shirt felt a little less rich than he preferred but he'd rather get some nasty shirt covered in nasty infected junk regardless. He did want to scour the closets once he returned for new apparel. He exited the bathroom and entered the living room. He stopped short of the couch, catching a glimpse of the two rapscallions; frick and frack were lying together, both blissfully unaware of the approaching down. The doctor gripped his sides to keep from giggling as he debated which looked cuter, and which he could easier pet and not disturb. He decided it would be best let sleeping dogs lie and moved into the kitchen. The bag holding the coffee beans held to his nose, the good doctor took it with him as an aromatic guard against the coming of the light and the obvious lack of hygiene in the common area.
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 18, 2012 16:50:09 GMT -8
Micah yawned as daylight slowly woke him up. The yawn was regrettable, as the smell of dogbreath greeted it invading his mouth and nostrils. He sat up slightly giving the pooch a scratch under her little chin. He stretched out his body, thank god the dude who owned this place had clearly been compensating for something. It took him a few minutes to will himself up. When he couldn't put it off any longer, he picked up the puppy and took her with him. He looked around, it was clearly past dawn, the doctor would hopefully be in the comm centre leaving the bathroom free. Micah wandered past the bedroom, placing the puppy on the bed before proceeding to the bathroom. He took off the clothing from yesterday and took out a flannel from the cupboard. He got some soap and water from the bathtub and gave himself a sponge bath. Not very good hygiene? fuck you. The toothbrush was still wet from use, but Micah shrugged proceeding to brush his teeth. Then he quickly shaved using the razor and a touch of soap. Lastly he used the deodorant. Ha! Bad hygiene my arse. He put the clothing back on and ran his fingers through his hair. There was little point in brushing, his hair had always had a mind of it's own. He wandered back to the bedroom and scooped the puppy up, who had been playing tug of war with the cotton sheets. "Bad fucking Emergency Rations, bad! "He grinned. "Let's go see what going on in the land of the fucking living, shall we?" He wandered out towards the comm centre, which was full of people in the midst of breakfast, he noticed Seth standing on a chair making another announcement. This really was turning into a hippy commune, Micah shivered.
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 22, 2012 17:17:04 GMT -8
The good doctor was pleased to escape a busy 6th floor. The door shut with a pleasant click; it was the sound that seemed to break the dam. The knees hit the carpet rather hard, his body dropping like water, absorbing himself into the carpet. He felt his chest heaving and expelling every ounce of air. I wondered why his face was still so reddened, still feeling the fibers soaking up the tears like a cheap paper towel. As close to an out of body experience as he was ever going to happen, he felt his body give way to the emotional tide. It was a few moments of sheer self-loathing which suddenly rebricked the wall. His masterpiece, his physique, his mental capacity, his world was lost. It was just a house of cards; every piece of himself which he had brought up, reigned in every vice, for nothing. His temple was dusty, corrupt and vacant of idol worship. Age had placed his heavy hand over the feeble doctor; no amount of time in any sterile environment could ever clean that taint away. Pushing himself up to a crawl was more hassle than the doctor imagined. Every snap or pop of a joint or its fluid made him sniff away a sob indignantly. He was glad for the throbbing in his ears to give him some solace; the silence of the apartment otherwise was unbearable to him in this state. The clothing was left in a trail from the living room into the master bedroom. Standing in front of the mirror, the doctor took a long look at himself. It was true, his body was in decent shape. But there were flaws; his scarred knee from falling, the surgical scar from his appendectomy, the bruises on his arms and legs. These seemed to pale in comparison to the physical pain. Arthritis, if it appeared as it did on commercials, would turn every motion joint bright red. His wrists would be the darkest red, especially without his braces at night. Shoulders popped more often, knees would be destroyed from running soon. He would physically fall apart. How had his routine been so destroyed by his zealous work ethic? Dr. Victor plopped himself down among the sea of sheets; the sea seemingly choppy and suddenly intermingled with white and black hairs, didn't grant him any more comfort. A quick nap, a little extra time to asses his face, hair, and soul, and the good doctor would put on his front of omniscience; after all, it was the only thing he had left to go on. Keeping these people safe would be the death of him. Keeping himself fit was the only way to stave off that death. Alex would probably want to pray every time they did a sit up together... The doctor fell asleep.
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 25, 2012 7:40:55 GMT -8
Dr. Victor stepped into his opened door, the grace of his dance leaving him like water droplets through cupped hands. He set the champagne bottle down on the counter, next to where the sticky sweet ice cream had sat the night before. The bottle made a painfully loud thud as it struck the counter and began to wobble. Whipping off his shirt, the doctor ruffled his hair back to its original state, using it to wipe the remaining droplets of sweat from various portions of his torso. Being pleasantly half-naked wasn't so bad; at least the heat was beginning to dissipate quickly in the cool space. Dr. Victor made his way to his bag of medical supplies. Pulling out his original bag of saline, some tubing, and the butterfly needle, the doctor hummed a little Gaga. It was an eventful evening, even if everyone else was being a pompous ass. At least Micah won't really care either way... but, if people are really as backwards as they seem now, Alex can take my place as the omega dog by morning. Lest he who is without sin cast the first insult.The good doctor went to the bathroom, tossing the equipment on the bed, save the needle. He avoided the mirror at all costs and rationed himself out a quick sponge bath. Feeling a little guilty for forcing nurses and techs to do this to the homeless braggarts repeatedly over the years gave the doctor a new respect for exactly how long it takes to do it right. Once cleaned, Dr. Victor remained in his state of undress and proceeded back to his bed. He grabbed a small pad of paper and a pen, scribbling a small note for Micah on his return. ~Look, no hard feelings. Blew off steam and still want to talk. I just need to know.~ His signature was actually decently legible, as it always was, but he wondered if Micah would have to make some asinine comment about it. He tore the sheet and set it on the couch. He hastily scribbled on the back of the note: ~Please come find me.~ Satisfied with his moderate plea to at least have a cuddle partner, the doctor moved away from the couch, his head tilting towards the side. With a start, he jolted his body. It was a little drafty for his tastes and it was only going to get colder. He relieved his bladder as much as he could. Looking down at his forearm, the doctor found a decent vein. He set the tubing to the saline bag, suspending it from the height of the bedside lamp. Putting the needle into his arm, the doctor still had the precision of a great heroine junk, but the veins of someone who used to take better care of himself. Connecting the bag to his arm gave him an even chillier response, but he knew he could sleep like this and avoid a hangover. Maybe it would even garner him some sympathy points from Micah upon his arrival. Dr. Victor drifted off to sleep propped up with his arm open. He hardly noticed the chill anymore, glad for the relatively empty dreams.
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Post by Suyoi on Oct 25, 2012 22:14:38 GMT -8
"Charlie, come on, you're going to be late for work!" The voice was spoke through running water, but there was the tender touch that pulled him from the sea of changing words on newsprint. The coffee was stale, but the chair beneath him felt oddly soft. The walls in the kitchen were all white, and Linda had wanted them that way. Not even the shadows held color; except for her. The raw, indigo figure gave him a flat stare. Its eyes were glowing from some terrible fire but its hands were soft. It had Linda's voice, though he heard her emanate from the surrounding walls. Something tasted like maple syrup, sickeningly sweet. She had found him again. The plate of pancakes was inviting, but similarly lacking color, or even the pleasant scent. He tried to look for a fork. "Charlie... don't look at me like that. I knew you'd never understand my feelings for you. There wasn't exactly much choice for me." Dr. Victor put the paper down onto the table, or the heavy wooden desk in the dark study. The white, sterile kitchen flaked away like old paint succumbing to years of burning summers and frigid winters. The oak-panel walls shrank and grew smokey, the light from the creature's eyes flared. It screeched, taking the sound of someone blowing through a microphone at its highest volume. The smoke made the doctor gag. Linda sounded closer, though the aquatic words were more garbled. The white pancakes sat on a white plate back in the kitchen behind him, but the study's walls pushed the doctor forwards. "Don't you think you're being too hard on yourself? One day, you're going to change. You won't be so negative about yourself... now why don't you just apply? What is the worst thing that can happen? You have to become a PA? Maybe you'd be a better Vet. That's the ticket, Charlie!" The study's chair felt as hard as the stone the doctor found his face pressed against. It was porous, cold, and damp. He could see the beast, its amorphous scribbled body swarming its arms around, flashing at the sideways trees. He caught glimpses of his tree house. The blanket, one...two... three strikes against his back, was damp, terrycloth, and smelled like the bottom of a barbecue pit. He felt his shirt peel back off his skin. The siren seemed hollow; it was far too low to be a normal siren. His body trembled; his mother screamed. Linda spoke again and the pancakes were growing cold in the sterile white kitchen behind the oak-panel study beneath his childhood driveway. "I think your scars are sexy." He wondered how long he held the defibrillator paddles in his hand before the patient in 2.5 asked what happened to her 'widdwe bruddah.' Her dark braids were pulled from the opposite sides of her head as the indigo swirl drew her inside it. The lines of electrical cords, tubing, respirator nobs, dials, seemed to sway back and forth, like waves against the tide. The overhead florescent light flickered to the beat of a poorly phrased poem. Linda tried to be sympathetic, her cool hand resting on her shoulder as the paddles began to melt from the heat of the swirling beast. He knew the pancakes had grown hard on the floor as the chipped, white plate hit the white walls. "You couldn't save her, Charlie, because God needed another angel. You can't fight God all the time." The study continued to expand, the oak-panels pealing inward like wooden claws, curling over its prey. Charlie tried to fight against the invading splinters. He had his lucky pendant. It made him invincible. Charlie tried to make the fire go away and he grabbed onto his knees, rocking back and forth as the room began to chew him. The pancakes tasted burnt as the sound of static rushed through him. He felt his shirt peel off a layer of skin, the threads fusing with epidermis. The indigo monster continued to pull at his shirt. "We should plan a trip out to see my family in Georgia. I think they'd like you, you know, on a deeply concerning level for your attitude. Charlie, are you even listening to me?" He felt thrust upon the concrete; he felt the fire blanket whipping against him. The smell of burning flesh, burnt hair, oaken paneling, blood, pancakes, saline assailed him at once, each vying for control of his senses. The newspaper left smudges of dark ink on his fingertips as he reached for his coffee in the colorless kitchen. Linda stood outside the white, a startling anomaly with her red carry-on luggage case in her hand. She had been crying, no doubt, about her decision. Her red hair didn't look as good as the first time they met in the elevator, and Dr. Victor felt bad for reminding her that as she left. "You won't ever find love, Charlie. You're just a self-absorbed prick who won't stop clawing his way to the top. Who could ever love a man like that? Goodbye, Charlie." The door didn't quite shut all the way, but the good doctor still hadn't finished his pancakes. Without any fork, the indigo monster hand fed the doctor each stale bite. It tasted like something the dentist would use to whiten your teeth. Linda spoke through a telephone line which was projected through the changing headlines on the newspaper. The indigo monster didn't stop feeding the doctor. "Why is it always about you, Charlie? You won't stop pushing me." Dr. Victor tried to explain, but his mouth was so dry from the pancakes, he could hardly speak, let alone breathe. "I do not believe I even gave you a second chance. You keep laughing at me, Charles. I won't have it anymore. I'm not some toy you use to amuse yourself with and forget. I'm a woman, Charlie. I'm more woman than you will ever have again!" The pancakes stuck in the doctor's windpipe making his voice sound like a click-followed by a dial tone. The indigo monster threw the empty plate at the wall, shredding the pale white skin with flared orange and pink. His chest hurt from lack of oxygen. The concrete felt good against his cheek, but as they lifted Charlie up, he felt his chest give way, his heart pouring onto the ground as a stuffed-bean bear, seam undone. At least that was what the story said in the paper when Linda came into the kitchen dressed in her white morning robe, hair still a mess. She gently patted Dr. Victor's scruffy cheek as he read the paper in the white kitchen. She liked everything white. "Charlie, come on, you're going to be late for work!"
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 29, 2012 0:54:09 GMT -8
Micah wandered in from Nat's party feeling incredibly ill. He's given in to a piece of cake and now his body hated him. Although he suspected that the glass of champagne and several red wines didn't help. The apartment was pitch dark, apart from the spot of light from the small torch that he'd 'borrowed' from the comm centre. He carried E.R. in the other arm, the puppy wriggling slightly, trying to crawl up to lick his face. He was going to collapse into a hung-over heap on the couch, but a square of paper caught his eye. It took him ten minutes but finally he was able to discern something about reeling , a stream, talk and please find me. Really? In this fucking condition he wanted to talk? About what? Fishing? Micah shrugged, too hung over to care either way. He wandered into the bedroom, and found the doctor twisted in his sheets. He was murmuring in his sleep, the words as intelligible as his handwriting. For a split second he thought the doctor had od'ed with the tourniquet and needle... then he saw the saline bag on the lamp. Really? the doctor couldn't brave a well deserved hangover? He placed Emergency Rations on the bed, before giving the doctor a poke in the side. "What couldn't fuckin' wait until morning doctor?" He asked loudly and grumpily, shining the the torch in the doctor's face. The doctor just mumbled something back about pancakes. Micah shrugged and stumbled back to the couch, bumping into things and emitting several loud expletives, before collapsing on the leathery couch. Seconds later he was joined by a furry little body that insisted on lying on his neck, he began drifting off into a seedy slumber.
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