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[murderpotato]

Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of:

What the fuck do you want?

At the tone, please leave a brief message.

Comments

[ishotyouuu]

You fucking--

[Whatever the end of that sentence was is suddenly lost in a soft groan as, momentarily forgetting himself, Wade attempts a sudden, angry lunge forward. An immediate wave of vertigo washes over him, reminding him why he shouldn't make such sudden moves just yet, and he falls impotently back onto the bed, the bowl of broth sloshing with the movement.]

Ffffuck... [His voice is hazy with exhaustion.]

[murderpotato]

[Wade's angry, and that's fine. He's allowed to be pissed or whatever, Gren can't tell him what to do or how to feel about it and all that shit. He can be as angry as he wants to be.]

[So he's not surprised by the cursing, but when Wade starts listing back, his voice trailing off, Gren turns and takes an aborted step towards him. He should be angrier, at his own stupid reactions if not Wade's. The stupid way that he wants to help.]

Be pissed at me later. [He rescues the broth from its precarious position; he doesn't want to have to change the sheets. Or he could let Wade sit in a wet spot, out of spite.] At least eat whatever you're gonna and get some sleep so you ain't fallin' over.

[ishotyouuu]

Y-yeah... yeah.

[Anger is forgotten in the midst of his whirling vertigo. He's only faintly aware of Gren taking the bowl of broth from his nerveless fingers, but only in the sense that he's suddenly free to sink back fully against the pillows with a groan. He's still hungry-- he feels that old familiar ache in the center of him, but even moving his head feels like a chore.

Help a guy out, would you?]