promotion (locked) school life (locked) choco and me (locked) arm care (locked) a girl friend (locked) pai and soccer (locked) the photoshoot (locked) friendsgiving (locked) the third fight (locked)
There's a sudden jolt and screech of metal and you jump to attention, nerves jangling and heart in your throat. It takes a moment for you to realize it's not vultures or harbingers or those guys Julie'd hang with, it's just that Hashimoto kicked your chair after you'd dozed off. You wrench around to face her, pissed and jittery, willing to take the insubordination charge because it's important you seem like you're not the type to take anyone's shit.
"What the fuck!?"
"Got a little somethin' there, fresh meat." The stocky teen points at her chin, and again, down to her chest. You follow her finger, then her eyes, gingerly touching your own chin before--ew--wiping a line of drool from your mouth and chin, grossness.
Hashimoto snickers, leaning in a bit. "Be happy the others didn't see that one. Yer lucky you got such a kind sempai, huh?"
You want to back up--get to where you can see both her and all the exits, but you stay your ground and try to rein in your panic. You do realize the room seems to be empty, which makes you wary of what Hashimoto wants with you. She's ignored you for the most part since you'd joined the team.
"...You looking for a fight?"
The look she gives you is withering. "Like you'd even be worth my time, numbnuts. You been like the walking dead all day. You saw what Cross went through to keep Murata off your ass."
You obviously didn't see anything but the inside of your eyelids, but you don't see the need to mention that part. "Was a late practice," you say instead.
"Yeah, and that's why everybody else's so tired. Oh wait, that's not true at all! Were you this dumb yesterday?"
Before you can squawk any reply, she smacks a palm to your forehead. It's soft and blessedly cool and you must make some sort of ridiculous noise since Hashimoto fucking clucks her tongue of all things, like a goddamn grandmother from some Western drama. All you can do is lean into the touch, sigh a bit. Hell, you must be--
"You're sick as shit, bud!" Hashimoto pulls away to cuff you upside the head, and at least that's something you know how to deal with.
"Fuck off," you say, both opening your eyes and making them focus. You just need a coffee, you figure. Of course, when you go to stand, the room spins weakly, so you let gravity pull you back to your seat. Double hell.
"Ohhh my god. You shitting me here?"
Now that you're semi-upright and awake again, you feel bad. Like, you didn't feel too hot this morning, but now you just feel awful. It's only that Hashimoto is here that keeps you from just lying back on your desk. You lean uprightish in the uncomfortable chair instead, mentally preparing for having to stand. "Keep your pants on. I'll be up in a second."
Hashimoto gives an unnecessarily melodramatic eyeroll. But the surprising part is when after you don't get up in a second, she grabs you under the shoulders and hefts you up. It's not the easiest, since you're almost a head taller than she is, but she's sturdy and solid even as your knees and head goes all swimmy. Together you stumble towards the med bay, and before you know it--you do kinda grey out a couple times there--you're laid in a cot, compress on your forehead.
"Hey," you begin, head bleary and tongue thick. But you can't grasp words to continue, and your eyelids are heavy, so you let yourself sink into warm, heavy darkness.
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drooling [[unlocked day 102]]
"What the fuck!?"
"Got a little somethin' there, fresh meat." The stocky teen points at her chin, and again, down to her chest. You follow her finger, then her eyes, gingerly touching your own chin before--ew--wiping a line of drool from your mouth and chin, grossness.
Hashimoto snickers, leaning in a bit. "Be happy the others didn't see that one. Yer lucky you got such a kind sempai, huh?"
You want to back up--get to where you can see both her and all the exits, but you stay your ground and try to rein in your panic. You do realize the room seems to be empty, which makes you wary of what Hashimoto wants with you. She's ignored you for the most part since you'd joined the team.
"...You looking for a fight?"
The look she gives you is withering. "Like you'd even be worth my time, numbnuts. You been like the walking dead all day. You saw what Cross went through to keep Murata off your ass."
You obviously didn't see anything but the inside of your eyelids, but you don't see the need to mention that part. "Was a late practice," you say instead.
"Yeah, and that's why everybody else's so tired. Oh wait, that's not true at all! Were you this dumb yesterday?"
Before you can squawk any reply, she smacks a palm to your forehead. It's soft and blessedly cool and you must make some sort of ridiculous noise since Hashimoto fucking clucks her tongue of all things, like a goddamn grandmother from some Western drama. All you can do is lean into the touch, sigh a bit. Hell, you must be--
"You're sick as shit, bud!" Hashimoto pulls away to cuff you upside the head, and at least that's something you know how to deal with.
"Fuck off," you say, both opening your eyes and making them focus. You just need a coffee, you figure. Of course, when you go to stand, the room spins weakly, so you let gravity pull you back to your seat. Double hell.
"Ohhh my god. You shitting me here?"
Now that you're semi-upright and awake again, you feel bad. Like, you didn't feel too hot this morning, but now you just feel awful. It's only that Hashimoto is here that keeps you from just lying back on your desk. You lean uprightish in the uncomfortable chair instead, mentally preparing for having to stand. "Keep your pants on. I'll be up in a second."
Hashimoto gives an unnecessarily melodramatic eyeroll. But the surprising part is when after you don't get up in a second, she grabs you under the shoulders and hefts you up. It's not the easiest, since you're almost a head taller than she is, but she's sturdy and solid even as your knees and head goes all swimmy. Together you stumble towards the med bay, and before you know it--you do kinda grey out a couple times there--you're laid in a cot, compress on your forehead.
"Hey," you begin, head bleary and tongue thick. But you can't grasp words to continue, and your eyelids are heavy, so you let yourself sink into warm, heavy darkness.