grappleking: (052)
𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙𝕦𝕤 𝕧𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕥 ([personal profile] grappleking) wrote 2022-01-12 06:05 am (UTC)

[Though they've been here a few months now, the whole day-night cycle still doesn't mean a whole lot to him— living underground as long as he had, the passage of time was really kind of arbitrary, and he's never quite adjusted to sleeping normal hours in the time since then. A few at a time is usually enough, which means that fortunately, when Hilda comes knocking, he's awake— though he doesn't expect her to be.

He's wearing sleep pants and a long-sleeved shirt to help ward off the recent cold when he answers, his hair slightly mussed, but still looking perfectly wide-awake, his brows knit together with worry.]


Hilda? Yeah, of course, come in—

[He steps back to usher her inside, a frown tugging at his lips. He'd insisted on them getting places near one another in case there was ever an emergency, but so far, nothing like that has ever come up.]

What's goin' on? You sick or something?

[She looks a little off.]

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