(no subject)

[gotitwrong]

[Ray is on the plane, looking his usual pleasant self. what is he doing, you might ask? ...he's removing the stitches from his face. so he's pretty much sitting at a table, with a mirror, snipping the threads and ripping them out one handed, since he still has an arm in a sling]

Fuckin'...

[he growls (in a way), and yanks out another stitch, wincing a bit as it catches] Shit.

Comments

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

Maybe a snack or something?

[gotitwrong]

Fine. Let's get you sommat so I don't have to listen to you complainin' 'bout bein' hungry.

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

Think there's anything around here?

[gotitwrong]

Probably. They got a pub, wouldn't be surprised if they got other stuff.

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

[And now Chris is looking around, trying to see through the dark and galaxies. Then...] Think I see something over there. Looks like a kitchen.

[gotitwrong]

[Ray looks over] Alright. Might as well have a look.

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

People said you can bring stuff here, so I'm betting someone would've brought one by now. [like a blood hound, Chris leads Ray to food! a.k.a. the kitchen and stuff.]

[gotitwrong]

Aye. I'd've done it. [awesome. Chris, you are now the official go to guy for getting food, k?]

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

[behold, food!] Huh, nice sorta kitchen. [and immediately raids it for food, pulling a chilled sandwich out of the fridge and looking happy.]

[gotitwrong]

[we shall say Ray leans against a counter] Hey... [idea!] Won't need to pay for stuff normal like if we can get it here for free.

[knowswheregodis.livejournal.com]

[Chris brightens up at this.] Free snacks, lunches, anything we want. Got a pub right here, too. [Mmm, sandwich.]

[gotitwrong]

Guess this place isn't all bad, eh?