WASHINGTON (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thatsagainstprotocol) wrote2012-12-12 11:16 pm
thatsagainstprotocol) wrote2012-12-12 11:16 pm
(no subject)
[ Connie and York are still asleep when he crawls out of bed at nearly two in the morning. He's sore and exhausted and shaky most of all, which means that sleep isn't going to happen any time soon. He takes his jacket off of the back of a chair and slides it on, and realizes he can't go with armor without being too loud. Well. The garden zones are safe enough, he figures, arming himself, slipping out the door with a note scrawled for the girls.
He makes it there shortly, and finds the nearest hill, flopping back onto his back, enjoying the press of grass. The desert hasn't been awful, but that and a ship-- god, he's just grateful for grass. ]
He makes it there shortly, and finds the nearest hill, flopping back onto his back, enjoying the press of grass. The desert hasn't been awful, but that and a ship-- god, he's just grateful for grass. ]
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Less than a hundred on active duty. 99% of the States are paired with a dragon but more of the Capitals aren't; the Project can't seem to get more than one or two eggs out of captive breeding and we're rarely lucky enough to stumble upon wild clutches in time.
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Freelancer. That's the project name, isn't it.
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--yes, actually.
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[ Not enough that he had to deal with it there, but now here, too.
Wash stares her down a moment, swallowing. ]
Texas.
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...do we know each other?
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Wash fights down the sick, nauseating feeling and just stares at her instead, willing the feeling to go away, please, god. ]
No. No, we don't. I should go. Looks like the coast is clear.