Date: 2008-12-18 06:34 am (UTC)
nomorekaraoke: (jeepers creepers)
...blood. Down the guy's face.

Running down the vaguely familiar face.

Fuck. Familiar, but he hasn't the faintest idea from where. This could get sticky, and fast.

Slowly, ultra-rapidly in fact, the ever present pressure around his chest tightens; even more so when he knows he's been spotted, because now he can't just stand there anymore. He has to do something.

"...you might want to have that checked."
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Lorne

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