(no subject)
The pain had started to set in.
The cuts had started up first. When he had woke up in the morning, he felt them ache and itch under the bandages around them. The itching meant it was healing, but that somehow didn't make him feel better. More noticably, however, was the fact his muscles were finally fighting back against what he had done to them. Everything in his body felt pulled, achy, weak.
Still, he was hungry. It was enough for him to get up - though oh, had he had debated curling up in the hut and never coming out - and start out for the compound. He had considered waking Pam up to go with him, but he opted out of that pretty quickly. She probably got as little sleep as he did; his new found fear of anything walking-in-the-jungle related should not disturb that. He left a small note telling her where he was going instead before exiting out into the sunshine.
The walk down the path was by no means enjoyable. He kept his head to the ground and forced himself to relax. It wouldn't happen again. He just had to keep telling himself that. When he finally got into the compound, he strided into the kitch, grabbed a handful of fruit, water, and a piece of leftover bread, and went into the rec room to sit, dumping his food pile onto the table in front of him. Yes, he would eat all of this. The small meal he had before passing out the night before was not enough to make up for the two days without it.
There were a few things he would have to do in the day. There were people he had to talk to and a new shirt to acquire. When he had gone to find a new outfit after showering, the only thing he could find that fit were a pair of pants. It wasn't too bad, though - the way the bandages covered almost all of his torso and his right arm, they actually might be able to pass as a shirt themselves. The bandages themselves would need to be changed too and that would be an effort in itself.
Sighing, he grabbed his first mango, taking a bite out of it as he relaxed into a somewhat lying down position on the couch.
[OOC: Open to all, especially the curious sort who want to know why Jim looks like he's been through a warzone. He's in a good enough mood just being home to talk to new people, though friends are especially welcome. (Clem and Veronica, I'm looking at you two. :P)]
The cuts had started up first. When he had woke up in the morning, he felt them ache and itch under the bandages around them. The itching meant it was healing, but that somehow didn't make him feel better. More noticably, however, was the fact his muscles were finally fighting back against what he had done to them. Everything in his body felt pulled, achy, weak.
Still, he was hungry. It was enough for him to get up - though oh, had he had debated curling up in the hut and never coming out - and start out for the compound. He had considered waking Pam up to go with him, but he opted out of that pretty quickly. She probably got as little sleep as he did; his new found fear of anything walking-in-the-jungle related should not disturb that. He left a small note telling her where he was going instead before exiting out into the sunshine.
The walk down the path was by no means enjoyable. He kept his head to the ground and forced himself to relax. It wouldn't happen again. He just had to keep telling himself that. When he finally got into the compound, he strided into the kitch, grabbed a handful of fruit, water, and a piece of leftover bread, and went into the rec room to sit, dumping his food pile onto the table in front of him. Yes, he would eat all of this. The small meal he had before passing out the night before was not enough to make up for the two days without it.
There were a few things he would have to do in the day. There were people he had to talk to and a new shirt to acquire. When he had gone to find a new outfit after showering, the only thing he could find that fit were a pair of pants. It wasn't too bad, though - the way the bandages covered almost all of his torso and his right arm, they actually might be able to pass as a shirt themselves. The bandages themselves would need to be changed too and that would be an effort in itself.
Sighing, he grabbed his first mango, taking a bite out of it as he relaxed into a somewhat lying down position on the couch.
[OOC: Open to all, especially the curious sort who want to know why Jim looks like he's been through a warzone. He's in a good enough mood just being home to talk to new people, though friends are especially welcome. (Clem and Veronica, I'm looking at you two. :P)]