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[ he currently has one black eye and one (pretty painful, actually) stab wound in his leg, not to mention a boatload of stress weighing him down like a sack of bricks on his back - but, evidently, he still has some energy to burn, even now. When they wake up again - he's quick to check himself for more mysterious injuries or equally mysterious fashion accessories - he makes sure that Angel is all right before making a beeline back to the apartment room. There, he waits for his other still-living roommate.
The room still smells like singed bedcloth and fresh blood (he's not the type to clean when he's stressed, sadly) and Steve sits on the couch. The massive battleaxe has been removed from its position on the wall, though he didn't get it far; it's leaning against the back of the couch. He stands up as soon as Dazai enters. ]
Hey. We gotta talk.
The room still smells like singed bedcloth and fresh blood (he's not the type to clean when he's stressed, sadly) and Steve sits on the couch. The massive battleaxe has been removed from its position on the wall, though he didn't get it far; it's leaning against the back of the couch. He stands up as soon as Dazai enters. ]
Hey. We gotta talk.
muffled linkin park playing
Oct. 30th, 2016 06:40 pm[ BOY, THAT SURE WAS AN EXCITING DAY, WASN'T IT
steve is slightly stabbed and slightly beaten up from today's activities, and the room still has the lingering smell of both burnt cloth and Dickson's blood; the combination of these two things only worsens the enormous amount of stress in his system, and he's back to pacing around the room like a caged animal the way he had the very first day. It could be said that things turned out pretty well overall: they found a staff member, they learned a little bit more about the parameters of their escape and the holes in their memories, and, most shockingly, Angel managed to survive. (Jack didn't, of course, but he didn't know him as well, and he's not so soft-hearted and good that he's torn up about that.)
Even so, he can't help feeling like he screwed up. It's a disastrously familiar feeling, too. He wonders if has something to do with the memories he's apparently missing. ]
You sure you're gonna be okay?
[ she did ... stab herself. among other things. ]
steve is slightly stabbed and slightly beaten up from today's activities, and the room still has the lingering smell of both burnt cloth and Dickson's blood; the combination of these two things only worsens the enormous amount of stress in his system, and he's back to pacing around the room like a caged animal the way he had the very first day. It could be said that things turned out pretty well overall: they found a staff member, they learned a little bit more about the parameters of their escape and the holes in their memories, and, most shockingly, Angel managed to survive. (Jack didn't, of course, but he didn't know him as well, and he's not so soft-hearted and good that he's torn up about that.)
Even so, he can't help feeling like he screwed up. It's a disastrously familiar feeling, too. He wonders if has something to do with the memories he's apparently missing. ]
You sure you're gonna be okay?
[ she did ... stab herself. among other things. ]
is your room TUFF ENUFF
Oct. 9th, 2016 01:04 am[ answer: no, it is not.
after today's events, Steve is tired enough to actually return to his room before curfew - not to mention concerned about just sleeping out in the open somewhere like he probably was before. That said, in spite of his exhaustion, he's not sleeping yet. Not even close. He's sitting on the edge of the couch with an opened wine bottle beside him, tapping one foot impatiently, evidently thinking quite hard about something. Murder, probably. Specifically, how to avoid it. ]
All right. I think we gotta try and make this room safer. We need a plan, or something. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not getting my foot cut off or my faced caved in, thanks.
after today's events, Steve is tired enough to actually return to his room before curfew - not to mention concerned about just sleeping out in the open somewhere like he probably was before. That said, in spite of his exhaustion, he's not sleeping yet. Not even close. He's sitting on the edge of the couch with an opened wine bottle beside him, tapping one foot impatiently, evidently thinking quite hard about something. Murder, probably. Specifically, how to avoid it. ]
All right. I think we gotta try and make this room safer. We need a plan, or something. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not getting my foot cut off or my faced caved in, thanks.
