There's a bit of, uh, muscle pain. Mostly from bein' tense 'n shit. Nothin' a fifth of whiskey wont fix.

[He begins examining himself in the mirror, his eyes look darker than usual and his lips and cheeks seem a little pale around the edges. More importantly, his skin just didn't look great. He needed another shower, with actual soap and a shave rather than just water.. and tears. Speaking of, there was still a bit of redness to his eyelids which he'd fix up the moment they got back upstairs.

He takes a deep drag of the cigarette, blowing it at the mirror and flipping it back up. Once again he's shuffling through the glove box this time for the eye drops he kept in there, he'd never admit it but it'd be times like this he could have done with wearing his glasses for a couple of hours. He leans backwards and lets some of the liquid into his eyes, blinking rapidly as he runs his free hand over his face.

He knew he could hold himself together now, he just had to go about his daily things without worrying about anything more than thirty seconds ahead.]

'm hungry, 'n regardless what y'think.. I need some kind of sprucin' or whatever.