(no subject)

[mnt_raph]

*Long.
That's the only way to describe the last few days.
Okay, maybe tiring would work too, but for the moment, Raph is sort of stuck in monosyllable land. His stomach is still not one hundred percent, but it's improving. Of course, he left that bit out when making his escape from the tearful reunion down stairs.

Home.
Bed.
Sleep.
That's all he wants.

And if he manages to get himself out of the vomit coverd clothing he happens to be sporting, all the better.*

Comments

[mnt_raph]

*It's true. Had he not been hounded and handled...he might have. But there's only so much one can see in the bottom of one's own toilet.

He's seen this behavior before. The snapping. Normally it's followed by Casey saying something really insensitive, and then comes the door slamming.

And when Raph notices something is insensitive...it's really got to be offensive gold.

He slams his head into the sinkstand a bit harder than he was expecting.*

Okay. I get it. You're upset.
I'd ask what this was about, but I know the answer's gonna be somethin' I don't wanna deal with without a couple hours o' sleep, an' a bottle of Pepto under my belt.

[the-damsel.livejournal.com]

Upset was really not the best description. Royally pissed probably would have come closer to the truth. So it was that she flipped him not one but two birds, and would have seemed almost gleeful about it had you not known the circumstances.

"Get it yourself, asshole," she replied. "I'm going home to leave you to your new, improved life. Again. Next time that fucking door tries to pull me in here, I'm going out the bathroom window if I have to."

And with that, she strode out, uncerimoniously slamming the door behind her.

[mnt_raph]

yeah...good luck with that.

*Raph stumbles to his feet, clambers his way to his bed, and collapses.

He lays there, lights still on, for some time before fishing a throwing knife out of his pocket, and tossing it towards the light switch.*