milliways_bar | (no subject)

[oom: Time flies when you're having fun.]

Alex breathes out something like a sigh of relief upon finding Milliways on this side of the door. He could have kept going until he found a phone and seen the whole thing through as is, but it would be better all around if he has a few hours to recover first. Less people wondering what the hell kind of a trouble a ball boy could have gotten into.

His first priority, he guesses, is to get some towels and ice packs from the bar. For something like half the route, he's okay, if limping a little, but somewhere around the mid-point, he feels a wave of dizziness and decides that, actually, what he'd really like to do is sit down.

Now.

The lack of chairs doesn't really bother him; instead, he lets himself ~~fall~~ sit on the floor somewhat heavily and lower his head in the hopes of making the room spin a little less. What doesn't occur to him is that now, to the average observer, there's a fourteen-year-old boy covered in dirt and dust and bleeding from the back of his head (not to mention the scattering of wooden splinters all along his neck and back, and that's only what's currently visible) curled up on the floor.

What was he thinking earlier? Something about less questions?

[ooc: And closed to new threads unless I've poked you, I think. ♥ Alex'll be around for visiting soon.]

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"Mmkay, tough guy," Cathy says, half-rising (left foot on the ground, as well as the right ball of her foot, but her right knee is still touching the floor) in a smooth movement from her crosslegged position (it takes her back a few more inches to give him some room), holding steady.

She's waiting for him to stand, and will try not to outpace him just in case he needs steadying.

Is that a challenge? Because Alex is good at challenges. He's standing up right now, and although he feels a bit unsteady he is managing on his own just fine.

Cathy rolls her eyes, popping up beside him. God, he is SUCH A TEENAGER.

"You are such a teenager," she tells him, worried but also kind of amused.

"I am a teenager," he points out almost cheerfully.

"I won't hold it against you much," Cathy confides, grinning. "Okay, full marks at standing. I'd reaaally like it if you'd hang onto me for the walking thing, though, because I don't like getting squished."

She offers her arm, helpfully, but her shoulder is also useable.

"I wouldn't squish you," he says, but kindly accepts her arm. She sort of reminds him of Jack (sort of), which is nice.

"Gravity's tough." She's letting him set the pace, presuming the pace is no more than moderate. "Though microgravity is worse, really. Are you from England?"

He'll accept that pace, but only because she seems to have her heart set on it. "Chelsea, London. You?"