( her voice is like a hammer to his head, compounding the migraine with tension and nausea. even as bile threatens to retch from him, his throat constricts with an unknown fear. his hand flies to his mouth to stop the throw up. a heaviness sits in his stomach, causing him to sway with queasiness. he doesn't know if the nausea is the second part of the hangover or if his new cellmate is the cause. either way, she needs to shut up.
he sighs against the wall, eyes still closed. his voice is soft and weak, almost a hiss as he pleas for her to quieten down, ) Lady, lady — please. Inside voice.
no subject
he sighs against the wall, eyes still closed. his voice is soft and weak, almost a hiss as he pleas for her to quieten down, ) Lady, lady — please. Inside voice.
( he's dying here. )