[Things he now regrets: getting Forge to fix his phone. Not much in the way of plausible deniability when it comes to receiving messages anymore.
The day was spent in a near fugue state. Going hungry until the pangs grew too painful to ignore. Discovering he had skin that could stick to walls. Crawling and hiding, like some kind of disgusting bug unfit to be seen by human eyes, on the ceilings to get food. Then locking himself in a private lounge room to get shitface drunk. At some point he passes out.
By the time sobriety trickles back into him, he was lying in a pool of own drool, facedown on a couch, distantly aware that the text message chime had gone off. Reflexively, he reaches for the phone - habit formed from a lifetime of fake memories of being a real human - and regrets it.
First instinct: throw the phone across the room. There was no way he was going to go meet Rafael. Absolutely not. He didn't want to see that man's face, ever again.
Somewhere around an hour later, guilt starts to pool, all sour in his gut.
It'd be dark out, at midnight. Maybe he can go take a look... from a vantage point.
Which... is how he found himself staking out on the roof of the D.V. Dream Drift, freezing cold and hidden from view. This was a terrible idea. Unfathomably bad. He hated himself. But it was this or get drunk again.]
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The day was spent in a near fugue state. Going hungry until the pangs grew too painful to ignore. Discovering he had skin that could stick to walls. Crawling and hiding, like some kind of disgusting bug unfit to be seen by human eyes, on the ceilings to get food. Then locking himself in a private lounge room to get shitface drunk. At some point he passes out.
By the time sobriety trickles back into him, he was lying in a pool of own drool, facedown on a couch, distantly aware that the text message chime had gone off. Reflexively, he reaches for the phone - habit formed from a lifetime of fake memories of being a real human - and regrets it.
First instinct: throw the phone across the room. There was no way he was going to go meet Rafael. Absolutely not. He didn't want to see that man's face, ever again.
Somewhere around an hour later, guilt starts to pool, all sour in his gut.
It'd be dark out, at midnight. Maybe he can go take a look... from a vantage point.
Which... is how he found himself staking out on the roof of the D.V. Dream Drift, freezing cold and hidden from view. This was a terrible idea. Unfathomably bad. He hated himself. But it was this or get drunk again.]