[hr][hr][center][b]Percy Moore[/b]
[color=598527][sub][b]LOCALE[/b] // Percy's Quarters || Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
[b]TIME[/b] // Morning[/sub][/color][/center][hr][hr]
[indent] Percy barely had time to open his eyes before he was face-in-toilet, his body violently ejecting the sparse contents of his stomach. His throat burned, his brain felt like a mess of cotton balls and mush, and it felt like a jackhammer - no, TWO jackhammers - were pounding on his head on the opposite sides. How much did he have last night? He belches- shit, nope, more puke. Thank God he's by himself right now, or else Ana would probably be freaking out and calling for Rebecca or Lofgren, and it'd just exacerbate this killer headache, and-

Percy physically covers his ears when he hears a voice over the intercoms request Stein, Alan, and himself to go to mission control, cringing all the while. Too loud. Waaayy too [i]fucking loud.[/i] He hasn't even brushed his teeth to get rid of the vile bile taste in his mouth and they're calling him up to do who knows what. He's being punished for being a crap father, isn't he? He sighs, grimacing slightly - he gets up, flushing the ick before he goes to his sink to at the very least swish some mouthwash and load on some spray cologne. That's the least he can do to pretend he's a functional, well-adjusted adult, right? Nobody's gonna notice that he's a total mess.

[hr][hr][color=598527][sub][b]LOCALE[/b] // Operations HQ || Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
[b]TIME[/b] // Still Morning[/sub][/color][hr][hr]
They're looking at him like he's a total mess, and he knows it. He barely got a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the door handle, and even through that warped lens he could see he looked like a corpse walking. Not that he ever looked like he was 100% functional all the time, but [i]damn[/i] this is a low he hasn't hit in a while. Or maybe he has hit this kind of low recently and he's in denial. It's hard to tell anymore. What he'd give just to be at home - his actual home - with Ana drinking hot chocolate and reading to her right now, but no. No, instead, he's in this cramped room with two people he knows hate him, going on a mission where they'd probably leave him for dead if they had the chance. Not that he didn't want to die anyway, but he'd prefer the last face he sees to be his own child's, not people who decided to abandon him in the cold of Alaska.

[b][color=808080]“Well... Are we ready?” [/color][/b]

[color=dodgerblue][b]“I have been ready for approximately two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.” [/b][/color]

She seriously kept count down to the second? Damn. [color=lightsteelblue][b]"Well I'm ready as I'll ever be."[/b][/color] Percy replies, slinging the backpack around his one shoulder.. and stumbling from the weight and inertia of the pack. [color=lightsteelblue][b]"Holy [i]shit[/i] how is this so heavy?"[/b][/color] he says more to himself than to the other two, hastily taking out excess stuff - he got thoroughly lost in his own head and didn't even notice he packed [i]entirely[/i] too much for a mission that should only take maybe a day at most.

[color=lightsteelblue][b]"...Well, uh, I'm [i]apparently[/i] going to need a little bit longer. Gotta.. put all this back... I'm such a fuckin' idiot, goddammit, [i]stupid[/i], what the fuck is.. "[/b][/color] and he trails off as he's putting everything back in its place the best he can until he's down to what he actually needs.
[/indent]