Derek Bly (derek_bly) wrote in dublin_insanity,
Derek Bly

Oh, Merlin, Derek did not feel well. He rolled over and tucked the blanket tighter under his chin as he lay on the questionably clean couch in the latest inn he and Hannah had found to stay at. Oh, his head hurt. His body hurt. He was alternating between cold and hot and WHY WERE THEY STILL IN DUBLIN?! Hannah hated it here. At least Derek was fairly certain she'd been the one not wanting to come back. It was a bit of a blur now, possibly because he seemed to have developed an insanely unpleasant allergy to the ferrets Hannah kept stockpiling. (At least Derek was blaming the ferrets. He supposed it was also possible he'd caught something when they were wandering 4th street the other day; it was rather filty all around. Personally, he preferred to blame the ferrets.)

And where had Hannah gone now, he'd like to know? Left him to die on this ratty couch surrounded by trashy souvenirs and the occasional squeak, no doubt. Oh, and he had this one pamphlet to read if he got bored. Brilliant. He didn't hear enough about the stupid ruddy Model whatever it was from Colin when he visited 15 times a day. Perhaps death would be worth the escape?
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