(backdated to when the draftees return.)
[Kriz is staggering through town, still stained with blood. There is a look on his face that suggests an absence of thought. He's walking almost robotically to his apartment, barely noticing anyone. He may bump into a few people, but he just keeps moving.]
[The first thing he does when he finally makes it home
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Comments 55
-oh my god]
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...and that expression is sort of wigging me out, man.]
Hhhht.
[/tailflicking]
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...Hello.
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...I'll be there soon. [Then his journal shuts.]
[Give him a bit of time, and there'll be a knock on House 44's door.]
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... Hey, um, we aren't doing very well. We should talk in my room.
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