Post by Lieutenant Robin Star on May 5, 2013 9:43:40 GMT -8
Robin stepped into the barber shop with a sway that might have reflected a drunk man. He wasn't, instead he was drowning, his feet felt like anchors, willing for him to fall to the ground and stay there. He was tired, sleep had been a rare commidity for him in the past month. He could have gone to sickbay, get a drug, get a good night sleep but that wouldn't do. He knew he would eventually have to, when they left dock they would be back to full duty. For a pilot, there was even less of that when you were in dock, or at least after the long weeks of working with the SGE staff to search the shuttlebay even further, managing the new shuttles and other troublesome duties.
He had largely kept to himself, usually in the dark and occasionally with a couple of candles. Meditation was more difficult than sleep and yet he found the idea of pummeling punchbags to be an exercise that lacked a need for fuel. Or maybe that was in his dreams, the more happier ones at least, if you could call it that.
It was only this morning that he noticed that his hair was approaching that 'too-long' state before it started drooping, sure he had enough gel but too much and it started to smell. Speaking of smell, he felt far from clean despite his still relatively normal routine. Ever since that day, after jumping on the trampoline, working a sweat and going into work, he hadn't felt clean. He felt violated, the ship had been violated by someone. It had been used, a place to hide devices, weapons of chaos.
Effective weapons.
Suddenly he was looking at his own reflection in the barber mirror, if he was any paler, people might suspect that he was dead but honestly that didn't feel too far from the truth. When was the last time he actually heard his own footsteps? A dead man's footsteps were quieter than the blade of a killer.
"Hello?" Robin spoke up, surprised that his voice didn't sound like an old man though the fact that the room was empty was rather unnerving. The sound of the door opening behind him, even more so as he whipped his body around to face the source.
Tag: Any
He had largely kept to himself, usually in the dark and occasionally with a couple of candles. Meditation was more difficult than sleep and yet he found the idea of pummeling punchbags to be an exercise that lacked a need for fuel. Or maybe that was in his dreams, the more happier ones at least, if you could call it that.
It was only this morning that he noticed that his hair was approaching that 'too-long' state before it started drooping, sure he had enough gel but too much and it started to smell. Speaking of smell, he felt far from clean despite his still relatively normal routine. Ever since that day, after jumping on the trampoline, working a sweat and going into work, he hadn't felt clean. He felt violated, the ship had been violated by someone. It had been used, a place to hide devices, weapons of chaos.
Effective weapons.
Suddenly he was looking at his own reflection in the barber mirror, if he was any paler, people might suspect that he was dead but honestly that didn't feel too far from the truth. When was the last time he actually heard his own footsteps? A dead man's footsteps were quieter than the blade of a killer.
"Hello?" Robin spoke up, surprised that his voice didn't sound like an old man though the fact that the room was empty was rather unnerving. The sound of the door opening behind him, even more so as he whipped his body around to face the source.
Tag: Any