TLV: IC Inbox

[statementfuckingends]

You've reached Timothy Stoker, leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you.

Text | Voice | Video | Action

Comments

the evening before the flood

[epistemological]

[ Tim might walk in, looking for him... and he'll find Jon, asleep, passed out on the den couch.

And he does not stir when Tim enters. ]

[statementfuckingends]

[Normally he wouldn't think anything of it, but between their recent project and Maggie's disappearance, he can't help being a bit more paranoid than usual. So he follows his gut instinct, pausing in the den to give Jon's shoulder a gentle brush.]

[epistemological]

[ And Jon flops against the couch, something he'd never do otherwise.

He's certainly been sleepy before around Tim; Tim's seen him squawk and fluster awake more than once. But right now? He's out. ]

[statementfuckingends]

[Bad. Very bad, and Tim can't help the short yelp of his friend's name when he ducks down to grab his shoulders.

He's not dead, he can see his chest moving, faint as it is, but he certainly doesn't smell drunk, doesn't look injured--

Realisation shocks him upright, and he just glares at Jon.]

Are you fucking kidding me, Jon?!

[epistemological]

[ Jon is not fucking kidding you, Tim. He is, in fact, in a coma. ]

[statementfuckingends]

[He thinks he's got a right to be mad about it, thank you very much!!

Not that he can do much but huff and bluster, and mutter furious grievances under his breath as he picks up Jon with embarrassing ease, so he can deposit his friend on his own bloody bed instead of letting him wake up in the fucking den.

That won't even be there tomorrow. Lucky bastard, sleeping through this one.]