[ Time hasn't mattered to Flagg in a long, long while. He can basically keep track of it with sunrise and sunset but he's not counting. He measures time in significant events; however long it is from one great human tragedy to the next.
He looks at the light coming through the blinds. One might mistake it for sunrise, but they were facing west. It was almost sunset. ]
All day. Another hour and it'll be night. [ And it was the time of year here where the sun was out for over half the day, so Lloyd's slept fourteen hours at least. Resurrection takes a lot out of you. ]
Sleep well? [ Perhaps, Flagg thought, well enough that he'd be in a good mood despite...well, everything. His actions may have brought about Lloyd's death but they also brought him back to life, so what was the big deal? ]
[ Lloyd grunts in response, needing a moment to actually figure it out. He's in the same position he was in when he fell asleep, so that tells him he at least slept hard. He feels fine? His limbs are pleasantly heavy-feeling, though that's disappearing the longer he's awake. Hunger gnaws at his belly in a way that reminds him of that first day with no food. Running on empty, but okay. Nothing will ever compare to that, but brains are funny like that. ]
Guess I did if I slept all day. [ Rejuvenated, at least partially. ] Hungry as fuck, though.
[ In need of a shower and some clean clothes, for sure. He feels gross. Dirty in a way that he isn't sure whether it comes from his resurrection or sleeping in street clothes like he was sleeping off a hangover. And he had, hadn't he? Binging on shitty coke that didn't take him anywhere after a few drinks that failed to give him a buzz, and that too-warm feeling after properly waking. ]
[ He stretches out, his long legs almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Vegas was an oddity; a time when Flagg had a focused goal and a job to do. (Well, he always had a job, but his boss was millions of years old and considered him an outstanding employee if he worked one day every century or so.)
Right now, he was chill. Just going with the flow, baby. He doesn't stop to think about why that might not reassure Lloyd. He doesn't stop to think about much of anything, really.
In times like these he truly embodies chaos in its purest form. There's almost a glow about him, like a girl on her wedding day. ]
No plan, my man. Whatever we wanna do is fair game.
[ Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Lloyd pushes himself into a seated position but doesn't get much further than that. His expression is confused when he meets Flagg's eye, and the implication doesn't set in for a few long moments. They can do whatever they want? Like.. whatever? Ideas come and go at lightning speed, and the limitless possibilities make it hard for him to decide where to even start. ]
I want a shower and some grub the most. [ He pauses, shifting to turn a little more toward Flagg. ]
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He looks at the light coming through the blinds. One might mistake it for sunrise, but they were facing west. It was almost sunset. ]
All day. Another hour and it'll be night. [ And it was the time of year here where the sun was out for over half the day, so Lloyd's slept fourteen hours at least. Resurrection takes a lot out of you. ]
Sleep well? [ Perhaps, Flagg thought, well enough that he'd be in a good mood despite...well, everything. His actions may have brought about Lloyd's death but they also brought him back to life, so what was the big deal? ]
no subject
Guess I did if I slept all day. [ Rejuvenated, at least partially. ] Hungry as fuck, though.
[ In need of a shower and some clean clothes, for sure. He feels gross. Dirty in a way that he isn't sure whether it comes from his resurrection or sleeping in street clothes like he was sleeping off a hangover. And he had, hadn't he? Binging on shitty coke that didn't take him anywhere after a few drinks that failed to give him a buzz, and that too-warm feeling after properly waking. ]
So, what's the plan. There's a plan, right?
no subject
[ He stretches out, his long legs almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Vegas was an oddity; a time when Flagg had a focused goal and a job to do. (Well, he always had a job, but his boss was millions of years old and considered him an outstanding employee if he worked one day every century or so.)
Right now, he was chill. Just going with the flow, baby. He doesn't stop to think about why that might not reassure Lloyd. He doesn't stop to think about much of anything, really.
In times like these he truly embodies chaos in its purest form. There's almost a glow about him, like a girl on her wedding day. ]
No plan, my man. Whatever we wanna do is fair game.
no subject
I want a shower and some grub the most. [ He pauses, shifting to turn a little more toward Flagg. ]
There somethin' you wanna do?