[ miles catch-all: one-way train to crazy town ]

[forwardmomentum]

Who: Miles & company
When: March...ish. all of March. there u go
Where: assorted locations, mostly on the Moira
What: Miles's no good very bad brains month
Warnings: general mental illness, trauma/PTSD, discussion of sexual assault



starters go below, post one if ya feel like it or let me know if I should write one

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[forwardmomentum]

"And where's that again?" Miles gives him a manic-edged grin, but he softens after a moment, shrugging. "Barrayar hasn't thrown anything at me I can't handle yet."

His body is testament to that. Barrayar had tried to swallow him whole before he was even born. And this place...well, that's up for philosophical debate. He did die, after all. Miles raps his fingers rapidly on the bartop, straightening up.

"Anyway, if you've had your fill of ketchup, I'm gonna close up. Got places to be, y'know."

At three am, apparently.

[skelepun]

"Oh, I don't doubt it." And there's no sarcasm there, either. Though perhaps a faint edge of something. Not mistrust, no, Sans is certain Miles means exactly what he says.

Just a little something in the look Sans gives Miles as he edges off the stool, hoodie bunched up around his shoulders.

"Try to find room for a nap in that busy schedule of yours, chief. As a favor to your ol' pal Sansy."

In the space of a few quick movements -- a flick of his hood up over his skull, the turn of his heel as he faces the door -- Sans' form wavers, hitches, and vanishes.