[When Booker goes to bed, sleep takes him hard. And his dreams are just as eager to visit him in equal force.
They're varied, strange -- images of a city in the clouds, a girl in a blue dress, "twin" scientists and their riddles. Blood and bullets and his hand twisting into black claws, his nose bleeding while staring at a man who has his face, but doesn't. A monster, casting deep shadows on the ground as it circles Booker, swooping in with a screech that could stop your heart.
Again, Booker startles awake. The shock blazes through his system, and he reaches for his gun... but only grabs at a fistful of blankets.]
Shit... [He tosses the comforter off of him, sitting up, confusion flittering away as he remembers where he is. What had happened. That redheaded woman letting him stay in her house, letting him sleep in one of her beds. He rubs a hand through disheveled hair, waiting for his heart to settle, blinking away sleep. He won't be getting more of that, now.
Sunlight filters in, grey and dim from an early morning sun. He isn't sure what to do now, so naturally, he pulls himself out of bed. He's wearing a loose white tshirt and checkered pajama pants, a sight that would be comical if not for the fact that he's too grateful to have them to laugh at them.
In the distance, a tune catches in his ear. Booker recognizes it, and it makes him furrow his brow in confusion. A tune he had not heard since Columbia -- he hesitates only for a second before deciding it's worth investigating.
And so only minutes later, Booker can be seen hovering in the entranceway of the room Amelia is in. He doesn't know if he should interrupt. She looks busy, but that song spikes his curiosity enough for him to make his presence known.]
no subject
They're varied, strange -- images of a city in the clouds, a girl in a blue dress, "twin" scientists and their riddles. Blood and bullets and his hand twisting into black claws, his nose bleeding while staring at a man who has his face, but doesn't. A monster, casting deep shadows on the ground as it circles Booker, swooping in with a screech that could stop your heart.
Again, Booker startles awake. The shock blazes through his system, and he reaches for his gun... but only grabs at a fistful of blankets.]
Shit... [He tosses the comforter off of him, sitting up, confusion flittering away as he remembers where he is. What had happened. That redheaded woman letting him stay in her house, letting him sleep in one of her beds. He rubs a hand through disheveled hair, waiting for his heart to settle, blinking away sleep. He won't be getting more of that, now.
Sunlight filters in, grey and dim from an early morning sun. He isn't sure what to do now, so naturally, he pulls himself out of bed. He's wearing a loose white tshirt and checkered pajama pants, a sight that would be comical if not for the fact that he's too grateful to have them to laugh at them.
In the distance, a tune catches in his ear. Booker recognizes it, and it makes him furrow his brow in confusion. A tune he had not heard since Columbia -- he hesitates only for a second before deciding it's worth investigating.
And so only minutes later, Booker can be seen hovering in the entranceway of the room Amelia is in. He doesn't know if he should interrupt. She looks busy, but that song spikes his curiosity enough for him to make his presence known.]
What song is that?
[Mornin'.]