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When Jim shows up, he's in one of the corridors on the Rocinante, boots muddied, wind-whipped hair, eyes bloodshot with fatigue, dark circles underneath.
He stops dead. Wavering on his feet. Staring dully at what's in front of him like it can't be.
Slowly, his mind processes a somewhat-suppressed memory of a conversation with an ineffable being that runs a boat in space full of prisoners.
"Jesus fucking Christ.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
Somewhere in his exhausted brain and body, he reaches a reserve of adrenaline not yet depleted, and he takes the few steps to what-was-formerly-the-airlock-door at a run. Slams his hand into the release, and it opens onto the hallways of the Barge.
Like he knew it would.
Time seems to do a weird sort of skip, because suddenly his face is on the ground and he's not standing up anymore. And his vision has gone all sparkly. Not green, though. Not green.
He stops dead. Wavering on his feet. Staring dully at what's in front of him like it can't be.
Slowly, his mind processes a somewhat-suppressed memory of a conversation with an ineffable being that runs a boat in space full of prisoners.
"Jesus fucking Christ.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
Somewhere in his exhausted brain and body, he reaches a reserve of adrenaline not yet depleted, and he takes the few steps to what-was-formerly-the-airlock-door at a run. Slams his hand into the release, and it opens onto the hallways of the Barge.
Like he knew it would.
Time seems to do a weird sort of skip, because suddenly his face is on the ground and he's not standing up anymore. And his vision has gone all sparkly. Not green, though. Not green.
no subject
He rolls over and presses his forehead against the mattress. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." He may have felt this bad once or twice as a result of high-G burns and fights, but he can't remember it if he has. "Oh fuck." His hands form into fists, not to fight, but just to squeeze on something. It feels like the worst flu of his life, like sore throat and fever and aches everywhere. He's shaking, shivering, but he's too hot at the same time. He's not sick, though; the antivirals he takes every three months make sure of that. He's just -- like he said, having the worst hangover of his life.
He honestly feels like he zeroes in on the water with some kind of extrasensory perception, because he couldn't have seen it while he rolled over, right? Whatever. He chugs the entire glass and curls back up.
no subject
"More?" He keeps his voice soft and low.
no subject