Private time at home, recuperating.

[h_hollister]

Sleeping most of the day equals awake most of the night.

She's been dozing on and off all day, curled up on the sofa. The detritus of a cold is all around her. So many empty and half-empty mugs of tea, huge bottles of water and orange juice, tissues and pills and blah.

Flipping through the many delights that late night BBC has to offer.

*click* "Let's rrrrrrattle those pots and pans!" Aak, no.

*click* "Stoli, darling?" Heh. Met her in real life, don't need the TV for that.

*click* "Mrs. Slocombe, are you free?" ...oh lord, if SHE ever showed up in the Nexus... She'd probably ask a question about her pussy, too... dear god...

*click* ...Eastenders? Nah. Too much like real life.

*click* "They've taken Mr. Rimmer! Sir, they've taken Mr. Rimmer!" "Quick, let's get out of here before they bring him back!"

...

...

The remote falls out of her suddenly nerveless fingers and she stares.

She knew about this. Jinpei clued her in ages ago. She'd just never gotten up the balls to watch it. And here it is, finally. She watches the episode unfold, and her eyes go even wider as Nirvana Crane graces the screen... and THEN! The scene where Arnold and Nirvana END UP IN BED TOGETHER!

...

It's like watching a train wreck. She just can't look away. She unconsciously grabs at the medal that she still wears around her neck.

Smegging hell.

Comments

[crackofthunder.livejournal.com]

The man in the kitchen preparing the chicken noodle soup is getting good at preparing the chicken noodle soup. Perhaps a new fixation to study, this food preparation. Handy survival value and all.

His ears perk up at hearing a "Mr. Rimmer" come from the television, though, and he pokes his head out to see what she's watching... home videos?