"Ya think?!" Eliot would have more patience if his face wasn't full of phlegm. "That's why it's sharp!" He tossed it onto the bed and rubbed his hand down over his face. "An' glorified sugar water ain't the kindsa fluids your Nana was talkin' about, man. Jus' -- gimme a bit and I'll make myself some tea."
A minute, a few hours. . . . He'd get out of bed eventually. He always did.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2016-01-31 04:03 am (UTC)A minute, a few hours. . . . He'd get out of bed eventually. He always did.