A/N: sorry this took so long, RL, and all, you know how it goes. (
Lorne
I have no idea why people rant and rave about crocheting. At this point, having undone the entirety of my work for the third time, I would rather sit through a coming of age ceremony at home, excrement and leeches included.
The most unsatisfying thing is how hard it is to really throw yarn, it never goes far enough. Oh well, someone will trip over that, and my work will not have been in vain.
The clock on the wall tells me it's been five hours since the last time Wes was awake. He looks so restless in sleep now, like he's fighting something. I think Angel got frustrated with not being able to do more, that and the smell of urine gets old after awhile and you just have to change shirts. So here I am, watching the watcher, and deciding without a doubt that I like quilting a lot better.
So no yarn, no music, and thumb twittling became old four hours ago, what is a guy to do?
I could wake Wes up and play charades. The doctor Angel had in here not to long ago, said that the damage to the vocal cords wasn't permanent, that is was mainly swelling that was keeping them inactive. He also said that with sleep and drugs the patient would be up and at um in two or three days. It probably would have been sooner if not for his trek across Los Angeles and the inept interns first diagnosis. Imagine wanting to release this man so soon, ludicrous.
Now that's all behind us. There are just some miner wounds to repair and we can all go back to fighting the good fight, or quilting the good quilt or humming the impossible hum, as the case may be.
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~
Wesley
I'm positive that I am not hearing things. I'm also positive that what the world really needs right now is a good Kazoo, not those cheep plastic ones, I could be wrong. That is humming I'm hearing right now. Have I mentioned I like drugs?
Oh the room is bright. And squinting hurts.
"Oh, sorry cupcake, needed more then the normal light to use the needles." That would be Lorne. What does he mean needles.
And still too woozy to sit up. Now that I know that, back down I go.
"Please stay down, I just washed this shirt." Is it just me or does he look greener then usual.
"So the hero has awakened, and about time really. There's only so many times I can answer Fred with, 'soon'."
Who is he talking to, is there someone laying behind me, cause that's just rude. I mean I know I'm not one to make demands at this point, but really, could I get my own room.
"I'm talking to you, creampuff, you saved the day." Ok now not only is he making fun but he has also insulted my manhood. And the sad thing is I'm really too tired to do anything about it.
"Never saw that look on Angel cakes face before, I though we were going to have a in door bonfire for a second there. And Cordelia, well, I thought she was bossy before, and I was sourly mistaken."
He is talking way to fast, is this his normal speed. It seems really fast, how can anyone process words that quickly?
"You still don't look so good. Let me go see if there's anything Cordy wants me to force down your throat." Even though he's smiling, what with the horns and all, I'm not sure if that's a threat or not.
Now that I'm alone, I should take stock of my situation. I'm in a room, of the hotel obviously, I remember walking here, and an old woman with a distinctly diesel smell. I remember finding and returning Conner, and the clone, I remember the clone.
Good so every thing should be ok then. I just tender my resignation, as quietly as possible of course, and slip out the back and start my new life as a concert Kazooist, or there is this odd desire to take up crocheting.
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~
Lorne
I've never seen anyone more as fast as this group when told that sleeping beauty had awakened. It was like suddenly there was a disturbingly solid wind from the north. Good thing I knew to get out of the way, not that anyone noticed of course.
Trudging up the stairs doesn't seem nearly as dramatic, but give me a break I've been sitting by that bed for five hours, my legs think my head disserted them again.
"Very funny Lorne, where did you put him?" Funny she doesn't look amused. Cordy with hands on hips, not a good sign.
"Where did I put who?"
A/N: (
Lorne
I have no idea why people rant and rave about crocheting. At this point, having undone the entirety of my work for the third time, I would rather sit through a coming of age ceremony at home, excrement and leeches included.
The most unsatisfying thing is how hard it is to really throw yarn, it never goes far enough. Oh well, someone will trip over that, and my work will not have been in vain.
The clock on the wall tells me it's been five hours since the last time Wes was awake. He looks so restless in sleep now, like he's fighting something. I think Angel got frustrated with not being able to do more, that and the smell of urine gets old after awhile and you just have to change shirts. So here I am, watching the watcher, and deciding without a doubt that I like quilting a lot better.
So no yarn, no music, and thumb twittling became old four hours ago, what is a guy to do?
I could wake Wes up and play charades. The doctor Angel had in here not to long ago, said that the damage to the vocal cords wasn't permanent, that is was mainly swelling that was keeping them inactive. He also said that with sleep and drugs the patient would be up and at um in two or three days. It probably would have been sooner if not for his trek across Los Angeles and the inept interns first diagnosis. Imagine wanting to release this man so soon, ludicrous.
Now that's all behind us. There are just some miner wounds to repair and we can all go back to fighting the good fight, or quilting the good quilt or humming the impossible hum, as the case may be.
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~
Wesley
I'm positive that I am not hearing things. I'm also positive that what the world really needs right now is a good Kazoo, not those cheep plastic ones, I could be wrong. That is humming I'm hearing right now. Have I mentioned I like drugs?
Oh the room is bright. And squinting hurts.
"Oh, sorry cupcake, needed more then the normal light to use the needles." That would be Lorne. What does he mean needles.
And still too woozy to sit up. Now that I know that, back down I go.
"Please stay down, I just washed this shirt." Is it just me or does he look greener then usual.
"So the hero has awakened, and about time really. There's only so many times I can answer Fred with, 'soon'."
Who is he talking to, is there someone laying behind me, cause that's just rude. I mean I know I'm not one to make demands at this point, but really, could I get my own room.
"I'm talking to you, creampuff, you saved the day." Ok now not only is he making fun but he has also insulted my manhood. And the sad thing is I'm really too tired to do anything about it.
"Never saw that look on Angel cakes face before, I though we were going to have a in door bonfire for a second there. And Cordelia, well, I thought she was bossy before, and I was sourly mistaken."
He is talking way to fast, is this his normal speed. It seems really fast, how can anyone process words that quickly?
"You still don't look so good. Let me go see if there's anything Cordy wants me to force down your throat." Even though he's smiling, what with the horns and all, I'm not sure if that's a threat or not.
Now that I'm alone, I should take stock of my situation. I'm in a room, of the hotel obviously, I remember walking here, and an old woman with a distinctly diesel smell. I remember finding and returning Conner, and the clone, I remember the clone.
Good so every thing should be ok then. I just tender my resignation, as quietly as possible of course, and slip out the back and start my new life as a concert Kazooist, or there is this odd desire to take up crocheting.
~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~1~~~
Lorne
I've never seen anyone more as fast as this group when told that sleeping beauty had awakened. It was like suddenly there was a disturbingly solid wind from the north. Good thing I knew to get out of the way, not that anyone noticed of course.
Trudging up the stairs doesn't seem nearly as dramatic, but give me a break I've been sitting by that bed for five hours, my legs think my head disserted them again.
"Very funny Lorne, where did you put him?" Funny she doesn't look amused. Cordy with hands on hips, not a good sign.
"Where did I put who?"
A/N: (