Almost two days of running had done little but exhaust her and cover her with grit and dust and sweat. Her thoughts still spiraled around—what was up? what was down?—and it was almost with relief that Ino took to, in the little debriefing room (white walls, metal chairs, tired looking table, and feeling almost like an institution), writing her report.
( Still, her stomach complained... )
Can you do that? she asked herself silently.
She was going to have to. Even if it killed her.
[NFB, NFI, OOC a-okay.]
( Still, her stomach complained... )
Can you do that? she asked herself silently.
She was going to have to. Even if it killed her.
[NFB, NFI, OOC a-okay.]