09-27-2017, 10:22 PM
William doesn't actually bounce when he hits the sofa. By all means he probably should bounce, but he hits the couch like a sack of dry cement and doesn't seem keen on being anything other than cement. He has bruising around his throat where it looked like someone had held on too tight for too long too tightly, but it hadn't been there ten minutes earlier. It was a quiet sort of show- first the telltale bruising on the inner arms of bad decisions long since past, then a snap of his left wrist twenty miles into the drive.
He was in what he'd been wearing when he went and decided to be a big damned hero. Shorts and a tee shirt. Not a lot of cover to keep from covering much up. The briefest moment of wakefulness came when he needed to breathe.
"... putain."
He turns his head just enough to not die face first in a sofa and seemed content to just phase in and out of cognizance.
He was in what he'd been wearing when he went and decided to be a big damned hero. Shorts and a tee shirt. Not a lot of cover to keep from covering much up. The briefest moment of wakefulness came when he needed to breathe.
"... putain."
He turns his head just enough to not die face first in a sofa and seemed content to just phase in and out of cognizance.