More than anything, his face hurt. It could have been when he fell face first into the cement back at the warehouse, but this one liked to think that the pain was from being sucker punched by a cop before he was brought to this pathetic safe room at the hospital. There was no medical sterile scent he could pinpoint, but there was something. Alcohol and soap maybe? Something to clean, but not as effective as what they do in a real emergency wing. Just enough to get by. A heavy fog over his mind made it hard to focus on anything aside from the pain in his own body. His head and brain hurt. His torso where he got shot and his left shin. That last one he couldn't think of why it hurt, only that it did. The heaviness and strain it took to move his hand and remove the mask from his face was alot more effort than he would admit.
Or more like his attempt to remove the mask.
Growling low in his throat, a sound that was too animal to come from a man, Fox realized his hands were restrained. Handcuffs. Pathetic coppers.
This one struggled against the restraints as the fog began to lift. His eyes remained closed for the time being. Reaching out his other senses to make up the place he was in.
Even if this was a prisoner ward in the hospital, it was far too well made. An old building, but less cancer in the air. Brick or stone building. The window close by - slightly cracked open and the smell of moisture in the air from it raining within the past hour - carried the scent of clay. A stone scent, more like. Moving from the window and lack of noise outside, Fox returned to the room itself. Small and no beeping machines to be attached to. There was a clock. A wall clock ticked in the distance. In the hall or across the room, but close by. It was when the scent of cooking food touched his nose that he snapped open his eyes and looked about the area.
The Fox grinned at the realization of where he was. Someone's home. Either Kabuki himself or someone closely tied with the little treat. Oh so many things to be said at these realizations. But no time to fully entertain them. The steaks he was frying in the pan were beginning to burn.
"The fire is too hot, my sweet....lower the flame." Was all that he could muster in his horse, dry voice before coughing from the pain of it.
ʕノ•ᴥ•ʔノ ︵ ┻━┻
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The Spider & The Fly [Closed] - by Blade - 03-09-2016, 11:14 PM
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