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twenty-seventh breath ✧ action
[Dreams? What dreams. Isamu hasn't been having any dreams. Certainly not the nightmarish kind taking place in a demon-infested, post-apocalyptic world that seem real enough to keep him from wanting to sleep ever again. And he certainly hasn't been avoiding doing just that for the past couple of days, trying to go about his daily routine as if he isn't a disturbed wreck.
Okay, no. All of that's a lie.
He's just lucky he hasn't broken any dishes yet, and he almost spilled a whole tray on a customer earlier. The key word being almost. He isn't ready to lose his job just yet.
It's just business as usual at the Baratie, and he won't hear you argue otherwise.]
Okay, no. All of that's a lie.
He's just lucky he hasn't broken any dishes yet, and he almost spilled a whole tray on a customer earlier. The key word being almost. He isn't ready to lose his job just yet.
It's just business as usual at the Baratie, and he won't hear you argue otherwise.]
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Whatever, I shouldn't snap at you. I'll get some sleep after this shift or something.
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[He would certainly know that— though when he'd been tired for so long it had been for an entirely different reason.]
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[He went without sleep often enough when he was worried.]