Day 59: Sun Room
Erika stood back to survey her work, and she had no idea why no one seemed to care.
By 'no one', she was referring to the soldiers who were on guard, who should be looking particularly anxious due to the atmosphere of this place. It didn't make sense in her mind. Someone who just took up a large chunk of the middle of the Sun Room to build a ( Read more... )
By 'no one', she was referring to the soldiers who were on guard, who should be looking particularly anxious due to the atmosphere of this place. It didn't make sense in her mind. Someone who just took up a large chunk of the middle of the Sun Room to build a ( Read more... )
Yyyyyyeeeeeeesss!!
And it was for that reason that Scott was able to react the way he did at the sight that greeted him on his way out of the cafeteria. Sitting in the middle of the Sun Room was a structure the likes of which hadn't been seen there since Guybrush's (non)famous Pilgrim Catapult™. A couch, chairs, blankets, and pillows had come together to form the ramparts of a most mighty fortress. It towered above the villagers of Kittendom (or would have, had they actually been around), shining in a stunning grey patchwork in the sunlight. And returning to the fort from the other end of the Sun Room, the mastermind behind the great structure proved to be none other than Scott's (current) arch-nemesis: Doom Girl.
There was only one natural course of action Scott could take upon bearing witness to this sight. As a man. As a fighter. As six-year-old at heart.
No way was he going to let some stupid girl fort beat the boys ( ... )
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When she woke up that morning (was it still morning? she missed breakfast, she knew, her stomach was grumbling and her man-nurse was more annoyed than usual), it took every last ounce of self-control not to roll around and cry because her left side felt like it was on fire and she couldn't remember how she even got back to her room, let alone when she got patched up. But then, there was probably some part of her that knew that would only make it worse, the flailing and whining, so that was for the best. She moved very slow at first, getting out of bed, wiggling her fingers to make sure everything still worked, trying to decide if it was worth having her arm curled up against her chest in a sling (which, yes, duh, because holy shit as soon as she let her arm move to rest at her side a flare of pain shot through her and she hooked the sling right back up again), until she was being scolded at for dilly-dallying, like she didn't have a bullet wound to wonder about ( ... )
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But then he asked about her shoulder, right after air-fist-bumping Riverside and Glasses ( ... )
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"Dude, that sucks so hard. Someone shot me in my first week here too. Did I mention it sucked? It suuuuuucked," he said, going back over to Wichita and sitting on the couch arm for the moment. The next blanket could wait at least another minute. "Who was it? It wasn't some red-hooded douche was it?"
He glanced back over at Captain Larry and his friend, then nodded his head at them. "Or was one of them part of the Brainwash Brigade? That happened to me once too. It, likewise, sucked. I nearly demolished my roommate over it." He thought back to the couch punching with a shudder, one of the few righteous hits he had ever delivered that definitely did not feel righteous in retrospect. "So I can tell you, whoever it was, they are probably just as not-happy about shooting you as you are about having been shot. Unless it was the Red Douche. Because he is a douche, and he sucks."
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