[he's at the hospital in three hours. skinny little thing in an asymmetrical leather jacket, rumpled hair, a little hollow around the eyes, but that's nothing new for a long-term coke addict. when she awakens, she finds his feet propped up on the edge of her bed. he's playing with his phone, his tattooed fingers darting jittery and too-quick over the glassy screen. someone's anxious.
and dealing with it by hospital visits. worse things to do.]
Morning, sunshine. [he glances up when he senses movement, eyes settling on the shape of her in the bed.]
→ action; (cw drugs)
and dealing with it by hospital visits. worse things to do.]
Morning, sunshine. [he glances up when he senses movement, eyes settling on the shape of her in the bed.]