2020-05-12 - What was IN this anyways?!

The last Bax's stoned, skinny ass knew was creeping out of a room that smelled like a steamed charnal house. The acrid sting in his nostrils still stug when he sat bolt upright on the couch with a start. Sweat stuck his first of two t-shirts to him and it takes a long moment to calibrate where he is, and who he is. All the people lashed together from Frankenpieces, the fingers grabbing at him, and the really messed up giant ants...ents...whatever. It as rude.; all of it really... rude.

And Grant? Grant looks down at himself somehow alive and shaking. He has to wonder, fucked up as it is, if this is less or more terrible than the time he got beheaded and his ghost set on fire, or the time he was obliterated and damned at soul level.

It wasn't.
That didn't make it traumatizing enough to leave him sitting there staring straight ahead with a haunted look for five whole minutes that passed like it was seconds.

It's when a hand grabs his shoulder he gasps for air and tumbles off the couch falling into the chasm between the beat up couch and the coffee table cluttered with paraphernalia where his roomie was working. Thankfully today the floor is not lava. Glassy brown eyes look up to his hommie frozen open in confusion and fear. Their lips are moving but his ears aren't in and he's far too unfocused to try to understand.

"You okay?" is signed to him slowly.

Slow recognition as the ghosts in his head and the tone out hollow in a distant echo enough for him to focus his attention on his roommate, whole, with out other arms being grafted onto their body and not grabbing him to tear his many appendages off. Again. He'd been beheaded more times than he'd care to admit. Jaw trembling and heart trying desperately to slow down he lets the world slide almost into pause long enough to try to sum up an accurate answer. He slowly, with shaking hands answers,

"I...I lost my shoe..."

And with no more explanation and a very confused roommate he slowly gets up off the floor and wanders on autopilot back to his room to peel his shirt off himself and curl up in a blanket and promise himself he does not have to go back to sleep.

Not now.

Not even soon.

Maybe not ever.

Yeah, that's a good plan.