Room 317, Sunday Afternoon

[notmyownage]

Claudia had managed to stay upright just long enough to shower the spattered splicer gore and Rapture dust off her and collapse onto her bed.

Her knee was screaming at her. It was almost nice, since it drowned out how much her head hurt. She wrapped both arms around her pillow and curled up around it, her blanket pulled up to her nose, feeling either ten years old or a hundred. She couldn't quite convince herself to close her eyes, yet.

But, hey. At least she was home.

[ooc: door's cracked, post is open.]

Comments

[notmyownage]

"Yeah . . . when you wake up to someone trying to claw your face off, it's kind of just instinctual." Claudia tried to shrug like it was no big deal -- and kind of failed. "We found real guns later, but, uh. I've only held one like, once." Well, twice, now. She'd even shot one of the splicer things with it. "Were there a lot of people there with you?"

[chief-cheerio.livejournal.com]

Quinn looked a little freaked out, but didn't comment on the shooting-at-a-person thing. It wasn't like she had some magic thing to say, anyhow.

"Maybe a dozen?" she shrugged. "My apocalypse class teacher was there. That was useful."

[notmyownage]

"We had the teacher in the orange and green jumpsuit." Which Claudia had no idea was as appropriate as it was. She looked down at her half eaten cookie, then lifted it up. "To not randomly ending up in a hell hole, again."

[chief-cheerio.livejournal.com]

"I'll say amen to that one," Quinn agreed, tapping a fresh cookie against Claudia's. "To real food and hot showers."

[notmyownage]

"And no psycho killers, people shaped or otherwise." Claudia shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth. "I'll take gremlins and senile old teachers any day."

[chief-cheerio.livejournal.com]

"I don't think anybody's going to argue with you about that."

[notmyownage]

"If they do, we'll vote them off the island."