Congrats. You're having a family experience.
Aug 26, 2009 20:32:48 GMT -5
Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 26, 2009 20:32:48 GMT -5
Adrien was only aware of the fact that he was extremely uncomfortable and that his body seemed to have set in that position when a deeply concerned Vietnamese man shook him awake and asked him what he was doing there. After a while of Adrien's nervous, drowsy stammering, he helped him up and genteely gestured down the hall for him to follow, and, dragging his coat foolishly along the ground and feeling cowed, he did just that. He was taken to his own room rather shortly. The door was already open.
Micaela stepped out of it and looked almost shocked to see him. She was in her lilac-colored nightgown. She looked like a miniature, female Adrian Veidt, with her hair falling like that. Of course, it looked like it hadn't been tamed yet from sleep, but still.
He was interrogated, with a sound of concerned pleading, on where he'd slept; the bed had obviously not been slept in. He responded in monosyllables, and she managed to figure out that he'd fallen asleep on the floor somehow anyway. Uncanny. Like she was Veidt's kid.
After a while, she drew breath to ask him how he felt.
"Like shit," he said. "I need sleep."
He'd slept a number of hours already, of course, but none of it seemed to have done him any good. He padded into the bathroom and noticed how his hair looked. He did not realize he had adopted Veidt's hairstyle, and so only noticed that it didn't look anything like usual, all pushed out of place by sleeping funny. He pushed at it despairingly, trying to set it right, and was trying to keep conversation with Micaela - who, trying to be cheery, had obviously felt irritated, bored, and neglected, what with Veidt disappearing to surgery and Adrien ignoring her to trail after him even though it meant 8 hours of sitting, and sleeping, on the floor outside - when a different Vietnamese man graciously popped in and invited them to breakfast with Adrian.
Micaela tugged Adrien out, and thus they arrived, trying to chat amiably but with Adrien's voice still muzzy and tired, Micaela in her nightgown - as it was rather early, actually - and Adrien in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before, all of them extremely wrinkled.
Adrien plunked down in a chair a mild distance from Veidt and Micaela sat between them. Thus breakfast began.
Adrien started it by pushing his plate back, folding his arms across the table, and resting his head with a muffled "uuuuuugh."
Micaela stepped out of it and looked almost shocked to see him. She was in her lilac-colored nightgown. She looked like a miniature, female Adrian Veidt, with her hair falling like that. Of course, it looked like it hadn't been tamed yet from sleep, but still.
He was interrogated, with a sound of concerned pleading, on where he'd slept; the bed had obviously not been slept in. He responded in monosyllables, and she managed to figure out that he'd fallen asleep on the floor somehow anyway. Uncanny. Like she was Veidt's kid.
After a while, she drew breath to ask him how he felt.
"Like shit," he said. "I need sleep."
He'd slept a number of hours already, of course, but none of it seemed to have done him any good. He padded into the bathroom and noticed how his hair looked. He did not realize he had adopted Veidt's hairstyle, and so only noticed that it didn't look anything like usual, all pushed out of place by sleeping funny. He pushed at it despairingly, trying to set it right, and was trying to keep conversation with Micaela - who, trying to be cheery, had obviously felt irritated, bored, and neglected, what with Veidt disappearing to surgery and Adrien ignoring her to trail after him even though it meant 8 hours of sitting, and sleeping, on the floor outside - when a different Vietnamese man graciously popped in and invited them to breakfast with Adrian.
Micaela tugged Adrien out, and thus they arrived, trying to chat amiably but with Adrien's voice still muzzy and tired, Micaela in her nightgown - as it was rather early, actually - and Adrien in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before, all of them extremely wrinkled.
Adrien plunked down in a chair a mild distance from Veidt and Micaela sat between them. Thus breakfast began.
Adrien started it by pushing his plate back, folding his arms across the table, and resting his head with a muffled "uuuuuugh."