Normally he didn't have a problem falling asleep. Normally. For a while there, his schedule had gotten fucked to hell and back, which was sloppy and lazy and inexcusable because he knew better. Schedules were good, so once he was back on to something resembling one, he was inclined to keep it.
And according to the ship's clock, he should be asleep, right now.
Except.
Except that damn sketch was keeping him up, ever since it'd been brought up. Not his - but him, as another saw him, and every oh-so-familiarly-foreign mark upon that page guilted him. You can't find it, but it's still out there, somewhere. He wasn't about to tear it down, and didn't have the heart to cover it up.
Which is what leads Netherlands to the kitchens at fuck-all in the morning, huffily searching around for booze, paying little mind to the clamor he makes in the process. Not that there's any left, so far.
002 kitchen
And according to the ship's clock, he should be asleep, right now.
Except.
Except that damn sketch was keeping him up, ever since it'd been brought up. Not his - but him, as another saw him, and every oh-so-familiarly-foreign mark upon that page guilted him. You can't find it, but it's still out there, somewhere. He wasn't about to tear it down, and didn't have the heart to cover it up.
Which is what leads Netherlands to the kitchens at fuck-all in the morning, huffily searching around for booze, paying little mind to the clamor he makes in the process. Not that there's any left, so far.