NATE
Things have been strange since the last time Nate was here. He hasn’t been home in too long, wherever counts as home by this point, the corpse in Torchline or the infant in Kings End. He’s been to Halo more times these last few weeks than he has in seasons, and he isn’t even going home now. Sunjata’s coming out to the Grounds to meet him soon, Nate helping with soemthing he hadn’t been told too much about, which means he hasn’t asked too much about it.
For the moment, it doesn’t matter. There’s a grin plastered to his face, just above the worst shirt Sunjata owns (in Nate’s obviously correct opinion) and a pair of comfortable pants. Who knows what the recovery for invasive brain surgery is for him? He’s not going to wear anything that can’t be thrown out.
Letting himself into the infirmary, Nate pauses, taking a breath when he doesn’t see Isla immediately and steadying himself. He’s prepared, he’s ready and willing, and he even brought himself a bouquet of yellow roses, a cheery Get Well Soon! card tucked in among the petals. “Isla?” He calls out, not quite yelling out of respect for any other patients. “I hope your evenings clear!”
For the moment, it doesn’t matter. There’s a grin plastered to his face, just above the worst shirt Sunjata owns (in Nate’s obviously correct opinion) and a pair of comfortable pants. Who knows what the recovery for invasive brain surgery is for him? He’s not going to wear anything that can’t be thrown out.
Letting himself into the infirmary, Nate pauses, taking a breath when he doesn’t see Isla immediately and steadying himself. He’s prepared, he’s ready and willing, and he even brought himself a bouquet of yellow roses, a cheery Get Well Soon! card tucked in among the petals. “Isla?” He calls out, not quite yelling out of respect for any other patients. “I hope your evenings clear!”
So unscrew my head and rinse it out
Polish my thoughts, turn into doubts
Polish my thoughts, turn into doubts
