[ she would start to feel winded a lot sooner if not for her superhuman stamina. she's not the type to walk for exercise or enjoyment. there was always somewhere to go or to be in New York, a point A and a point B, but in Reims she treks mostly from her home to the prison. her patrol routes have become routine and mundane to her. there are no new routes for her to take, only known ones to mix and match. the city has gotten familiar, made its way into her without offering jack in return. except the whiskey, that she keeps on drinking despite how sick it makes her of herself.
as her breathing gets heavier, she shifts more of her focus to monitoring it. before long she's absorbed in the dryness of her mouth, flexing her tongue and biting her cheeks and swallowing saliva instead of pulling to the side to fish a bottle out of her pack. she sighs privately with relief when his pace relents, then abides his instructions between sips of liquor she's extremely mindful not to slosh. even as they assemble the tent, Jess can't believe the almost cartoonishly barebones nature of it. she didn't think people really camped like this anymore, in this millennium.
when it's done, it's as quaint as her apartment back home. a real Eeyore mansion. Jess wipes her hands on the tarp, sizing the tent up as she stands in front of it -- pretty tight for two -- then up at the sky -- no sign of rain. good. but bad. either way, she can sleep outside if she wants to. she searches herself and doesn't determine a preference either way.
Jess crouches at the entrance, choosing to take out her device to illuminate the signs she makes with her hands. ]
no subject
as her breathing gets heavier, she shifts more of her focus to monitoring it. before long she's absorbed in the dryness of her mouth, flexing her tongue and biting her cheeks and swallowing saliva instead of pulling to the side to fish a bottle out of her pack. she sighs privately with relief when his pace relents, then abides his instructions between sips of liquor she's extremely mindful not to slosh. even as they assemble the tent, Jess can't believe the almost cartoonishly barebones nature of it. she didn't think people really camped like this anymore, in this millennium.
when it's done, it's as quaint as her apartment back home. a real Eeyore mansion. Jess wipes her hands on the tarp, sizing the tent up as she stands in front of it -- pretty tight for two -- then up at the sky -- no sign of rain. good. but bad. either way, she can sleep outside if she wants to. she searches herself and doesn't determine a preference either way.
Jess crouches at the entrance, choosing to take out her device to illuminate the signs she makes with her hands. ]
You good?