Six Sentences Sunday

[terresdebrume]

For this week’s Six Sentences Sunday, I was hoping to have something to show from the Ineffable Mutants project: it’d have been a way to alternate between two stories and, hopefully, keep things more entertaining. Fate, and my brain, have decided that wasn’t to be so, however, so let’s have six sentences from the Adult High School!Napoleon fic or, as I’ve decided to tag it: AHS Napollya.

Napoleon wakes up with a start, the bone-chilling freeze of his memories still digging into his ass and back, a shiver running through him when his hip twinges with the phantom ache of a night spent on concrete, and he’s sinking further into his parka before he realizes he didn’t emerge from sleep on his own. The blonde man from Monday and yesterday looms over him, concern creasing at his eyes and pulling at the dark line of stitches on his right temple. Whatever caused that, it must have hurt like hell.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asks.

Napoleon’s answer is cut off by a yawn so long even he can’t help but scoff at the end of it, although he does keep enough presence of mind to gesture for his apparently-study-buddy to sit down. The man doesn’t sit down, however, opting instead to walk around their table and loom over Napoleon from a closer space.