milliways_bar | (no subject)

Here's someone who hasn't been seen in the bar for a while. Or, well, at least when he wasn't bloodied and semi-conscious.

Anyway. Jack hobbles downstairs, limping heavily as he heads for the chairs by the fireplace. His right arm is still in a sling, his knee still rigid, though the brusing around his eye and the red welt left from the burn on his cheek have faded a fair bit. He still doesn't look as though he's slept much though, which would probably be because he hasn't.

The noise and bustle in the bar is a little jarring, a little uncomfortable. After so many months living in a quiet, secluded area, he's not used to being around so many people at once. But it's better than sitting in his room for another day, staring at the TV or the walls.

He settles into a chair, propping his left leg on an ottoman. Pulling a book from inside his sling, he settles in to read, though not averse to companionship at the moment. Just don't be surprised if he's a little twitchy.

[ooc: Not sure how late I'll be on, and ~~access is likely to be a little interrupted crap, have to run for a minute--back in a bit~~, but I'm perfectly willing to slowtime--just bear in mind that slowtimes from tonight won't be tagged until after 6 pm tomorrow. Work is kicking my ass again. And I'm back!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, no need for a heating pad at least."

"It's not like I need to breathe, anyway."

"And I'm sure you can handle the hairballs just fine."

Jack makes a "eww gross" face. "I could live without those."

"Don't they have some special kind of medication for that?"

Of course that medication is for cats...

"...do they?"

"Well for cats, yeah. I think if someone comes to the hospital with furrballs they have a lot more problems than the hairballs themselves."

"Obviously it means there's too much cat in their respatory system."

Jack snorts. "Somehow I doubt that would be the official diagnosis."