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Home again.
At least he's alive. There's always that. Though in truth, that might not even be that much of a blessing. Mixed, at best.
His eye is killing him, except it's not just his eye, it's his whole head, aching and throbbing and generally making him miserable. He'd been useful, he'd gotten the job done, and he supposes that's some consolation, but right now what he'd give his fucking soul for is a really cold bottle of shitty American beer.
Ice will have to do, and when he gets to the kitchen and sees her he figures maybe he'll take the best of whatever the world will give him.
Not that she had been pleased. Not that she's probably pleased now.
His eye is killing him, except it's not just his eye, it's his whole head, aching and throbbing and generally making him miserable. He'd been useful, he'd gotten the job done, and he supposes that's some consolation, but right now what he'd give his fucking soul for is a really cold bottle of shitty American beer.
Ice will have to do, and when he gets to the kitchen and sees her he figures maybe he'll take the best of whatever the world will give him.
Not that she had been pleased. Not that she's probably pleased now.