[ He'd stopped drinking the blood Cutler was bringing him two days ago - whether entirely of his own guilty conscience or the threat of Tom finding out about it, he wasn't entirely sure himself; he'd like to say the former, but the fact of the matter was that he'd always been a bit of a coward. The effort was pathetic at best. The withdrawal sank in swiftly, pushing him through listlessness and delirium before the freezing, sharp fever settled in, and twenty minutes ago he cracked, bit into one of the bags.
It was cold, and useless, and all he managed to do was make a mess, but the ghost of the real thing was enough to spike the cravings and encourage further bad judgment. He's trying to get to the medical bay for something less stale when he steps onto a lift, agitated and on the edge of panic, and steps out to an empty hallway.
The door closes quickly behind him, and it only takes seconds for him to frantically hit the controls before he resorts to banging on the door and giving it a violent kick. ]
Fucking spaceships. [ The words are spit out along with a bit of the blood that's still stark on his lips. But the door doesn't give, and so with another hissed curse he turns and starts down the hall to find an alternative path. ]
hal yorke | ota, warning: slightly crazy
It was cold, and useless, and all he managed to do was make a mess, but the ghost of the real thing was enough to spike the cravings and encourage further bad judgment. He's trying to get to the medical bay for something less stale when he steps onto a lift, agitated and on the edge of panic, and steps out to an empty hallway.
The door closes quickly behind him, and it only takes seconds for him to frantically hit the controls before he resorts to banging on the door and giving it a violent kick. ]
Fucking spaceships. [ The words are spit out along with a bit of the blood that's still stark on his lips. But the door doesn't give, and so with another hissed curse he turns and starts down the hall to find an alternative path. ]