KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
As the door creaked open, Korbin turned his head slightly, watching her enter from the corner of his eyes. She carried kettle and pitcher, spoke of food and drink and he had to think, focus on his body to find an answer.
"No," he said quietly.
Drowsy, out of sorts. It was the herbs that did it. Normally he was quick to wake and an early riser, but here in the gloom of a room without windows, and with night reigning surpreme outside, time had lost all meaning. Chills kept running up and down his back, and the warmth radiating from the rising flames did little to stave them off. Did he have a fever again? Wouldn't be the first time. How long since he had a drink?
Couldn't tell. Too long. The shakes might start again soon. He would have to go back to the bar. Just for a quick look, to relieve the chef.
Slowly, gingerly, he got to his feet. Managed to raise all of his considerable height into a semblance of steadiness, and let the blanket fall to the floor. He turned, and headed for the exit.
"No," he said quietly.
Drowsy, out of sorts. It was the herbs that did it. Normally he was quick to wake and an early riser, but here in the gloom of a room without windows, and with night reigning surpreme outside, time had lost all meaning. Chills kept running up and down his back, and the warmth radiating from the rising flames did little to stave them off. Did he have a fever again? Wouldn't be the first time. How long since he had a drink?
Couldn't tell. Too long. The shakes might start again soon. He would have to go back to the bar. Just for a quick look, to relieve the chef.
Slowly, gingerly, he got to his feet. Managed to raise all of his considerable height into a semblance of steadiness, and let the blanket fall to the floor. He turned, and headed for the exit.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
