(no subject)

[manythorned]

Rose runs into the bar today, not realizing where she is. Her hands and t-shirt are covered in blood, but by the looks of her, it isn't hers.

She frantically looks around, finally noticing where she's run to, for anyone who can help her. She doesn't relax all that much being here, in fact she seems more agitated by the minute. She'd leave and go back to her apartment where she'd be alone, but her hands... and the door handle... ew.

(no subject)

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford's in his pyjamas again when he wanders through the door, looking decidedly green. He's got the next three days off, and if there was ever a time he needed it, it's now. Everything hurts, or feels like it's turning to mush, or both.

Dragging a blanket behind him, Wilford makes his way over to the fire and claims one of the sofas. It's too hot over here, but it's too late. He's committed. This is his life now. It's not long before his dog realises he's here and decides to join in on this apparent cuddle party, climbing on top of Wilford to lick his hair.

"Go away, I'm dying," Wilford complains.

His words go unheeded. Buster stays right where he is.