Charles (Orc) Merriman (
paidinbeer) wrote in
trans_92012-02-17 03:44 pm
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When Orc woke up it took him five minutes before he had his first thought.
Dry.
His craggy lips felt entirely too dry. In fact his mouth, throat, his skin felt like he'd been sand blasted and thrown into the desert. The only moisture that he was aware of came when he slowly rose from the table to find a string of drool coming off his lower lip to a puddle on the table. Half of it was on his cheek, but he couldn't feel that.
His head began to pound as another powerful hangover settled in. How long had he been in this bar? He'd lost track of time.
That was fine, it was all fine. There was more beer here. He could wash away the pain in his head and subsequent painful thoughts. All he had to do was get himself out of the booth and over to the bar.
...
That might take more effort. He couldn't seem to will his heavy body to do more then sit up just yet. Days spent in a drunken stupor had caught up with him and were spinning his stomach like a blender full of misery and yuk.
Dry.
His craggy lips felt entirely too dry. In fact his mouth, throat, his skin felt like he'd been sand blasted and thrown into the desert. The only moisture that he was aware of came when he slowly rose from the table to find a string of drool coming off his lower lip to a puddle on the table. Half of it was on his cheek, but he couldn't feel that.
His head began to pound as another powerful hangover settled in. How long had he been in this bar? He'd lost track of time.
That was fine, it was all fine. There was more beer here. He could wash away the pain in his head and subsequent painful thoughts. All he had to do was get himself out of the booth and over to the bar.
...
That might take more effort. He couldn't seem to will his heavy body to do more then sit up just yet. Days spent in a drunken stupor had caught up with him and were spinning his stomach like a blender full of misery and yuk.
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At the first sign of movement from Orc, Nima peered over the side of the rafter, paused in her cleaning.
"Oh hey, I almost didn't see you there."
Because, you know, the giant rock-skinned boy was super easy to miss, when he was passed out in the middle of the bar.
"Ready for another drink, big guy?"
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"Hi."
Personal space was not her greatest concern in the universe, and so she reached out to tap Orc on the forehead.
"I said, ready for another drink?"
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"Yeah...I know Howard." He grunted dumbly in response. He hadn't seen Howard in a few days...or was it weeks? Orc wasn't entirely sure and the drink was probably to blame.
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"Mmm'fine." He added trying to head off any trouble. Maybe they wanted to throw him out for sleeping there.
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He knew what those two contradictory answers meant. Especially from someone on the floor in the pub. "I know a good hangover cure. A pint of water and a good fry-up is what you need."
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He feels about twenty seconds of panic when he doesn't find Orc beneath the beer tree before realizing he must be at the tavern. There's still genuine concern when he finds Orc and sees the state he's in.
"Hey. I've been looking all over for you."
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"Mmmfine." He grumbled staring at his empty mug as if that would make it refill. "How you been?" Not that he was really interested, it just came out automatically.
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"Busy. Real busy. I been doing double shifts at Medical since Sampire went off while we balance the schedule. Mostly that's okay, I mean, it gives me something to do." Howard talks slowly, extra so since Orc is smashed. This is how it often goes, Howard filling the silence with his chatter because he's trying to distract Orc from being amazingly depressed a few minutes at a time, up until Orc looks too lost to keep following. "I'm going to try to find you a job, okay?"
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She stepped back, not wanting to get accidently whacked if he by some miracle managed to sit up.
“And here I’d thought you’d taken up permanent residence at the Beer Tree.”
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Then again they weren't exactly friends. Orc paused for a moment wondering if he should be wary of her. But as he reasoned, he had noting she could take from him so there was nothing to worry about.
"How're you." he managed.
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"Good actually. I'd ask how you're doing but, come on, it's obvious."
Ordering something non-alcoholic, because really, Orc was doing a bang-up job as a warning campaign for the stuff, she glances about, taking a sip. "Where's Howie? I'd have though he'd be here to hold back your... rocks." Diana looks at his head, remembering the lack of hair.
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"Howard's got stuff to do." He muttered without any sort of resentment. He didn't mind when Howard wasn't around. It was just different. It left him alone with his thoughts which he didn't like...but also he didn't have to worry about anyone nagging him to slow down or speed up.
"If he stays too long he looks sad." He added. He didn't know what it was, or if it was just imagined. But something about Howard lately made him think of a dog that had been kicked too many times.
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Diana thought about that then amended it. "Well, actually, he either looks sad, smug, scared or scornful."
She smirked at her own alliteration, even if Orc probably wouldn't appreciate the effort, and rewarded herself with another sip.
"But apart from that, he doesn't have any other expressions."
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"How much?" Seemed like a good question to ask as he grunted and forced himself to his wobbly feet.
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