There are many bad things to wake up to. You could wake up to find an axe murderer over you, you could wake up to discover you've been in a coma. Osore knew from experience one could wake up to a raging inferno in their home that could ruin them physically for the rest of their life. Of all the ways to wake up, having a redhead clawing at you screaming things would rank just under the dog's wet nose in your neck making you shriek like a girl. As oxygen began filling his lungs once more Osore's brain finally begins to clear some.
He was in a bar. There was a woman clinging to his back trying to hit his sides screaming at him to breathe. His cousin was singing. Nanami was nowhere to be seen. The bartender was crawling with bugs. There was a fight raging around them. And he felt like complete and utter shit. Well...this was one of the better mornings, it seemed. When your entire body is so scarred from fire that you live in a suit of armor made specifically to keep you alive, it doesn't take much.
”I'm breathing. For the moment.” Clarity of mind gave rise to the ability to piece together most of what was going on. He was in withdrawal from his meds. Tenken was an idiot, and Osore more so for not trying to wean him off of them, but then again both knew if Osore had them handy nothing would stop him from taking his old dosage anyways. Pain was to be expected. The disorientation was an uncommon thing. The nausea was just annoying. But he stopped breathing? That didn't sound like withdrawal from pain meds to him.
”How long was I not breathing? And where am I? …...and why are those people trying to kill each other with bar furnishings? Who invited me to a bar fight?” Obviously his memory was not the best right now. The last thing he remembered was his boots filling with sweat as he was cooked alive inside his armor and too weak to take it off, but too stubborn to admit he would ever need help. That didn't sound like him, but a lot of things lately didn't, first among them being his ability to talk.
What the hell kind of medication had he been on?
He was in a bar. There was a woman clinging to his back trying to hit his sides screaming at him to breathe. His cousin was singing. Nanami was nowhere to be seen. The bartender was crawling with bugs. There was a fight raging around them. And he felt like complete and utter shit. Well...this was one of the better mornings, it seemed. When your entire body is so scarred from fire that you live in a suit of armor made specifically to keep you alive, it doesn't take much.
”I'm breathing. For the moment.” Clarity of mind gave rise to the ability to piece together most of what was going on. He was in withdrawal from his meds. Tenken was an idiot, and Osore more so for not trying to wean him off of them, but then again both knew if Osore had them handy nothing would stop him from taking his old dosage anyways. Pain was to be expected. The disorientation was an uncommon thing. The nausea was just annoying. But he stopped breathing? That didn't sound like withdrawal from pain meds to him.
”How long was I not breathing? And where am I? …...and why are those people trying to kill each other with bar furnishings? Who invited me to a bar fight?” Obviously his memory was not the best right now. The last thing he remembered was his boots filling with sweat as he was cooked alive inside his armor and too weak to take it off, but too stubborn to admit he would ever need help. That didn't sound like him, but a lot of things lately didn't, first among them being his ability to talk.
What the hell kind of medication had he been on?
