Post by Specialist290 on Mar 1, 2007 21:53:40 GMT -5
At the next table over from the Russian a young man is sitting in the chair sleeping, with his head resting on the table and his arm sprawled out across its length. He is wearing a tattered military uniform, but there's no insignia, nor any trace of the original unit badges--all of the ones he's wearing now are obviously much newer than the uniform. A shotgun lies cradled on his knees, and a pistol is in the holster by his side. An old fire axe peeks out of the backpack at his feet; judging by the sack's bulky appearance, it's obviously crammed with lots of other useful items as well. A small puddle of drool has collected on the table directly below his open mouth.
The man is clean-shaven--obviously, unlike many other Maltonites, he carries his own razor. His hair has also been cropped short and straight across his head somewhat haphazardly, one of the disadvantages of not being able to find a mirror.
His sleep seems fitful--every so often he will wince, and his other hand will twitch toward the trigger on his shotgun. However, the reflex passes quickly, and his sleep is otherwise undisturbed.
The man is clean-shaven--obviously, unlike many other Maltonites, he carries his own razor. His hair has also been cropped short and straight across his head somewhat haphazardly, one of the disadvantages of not being able to find a mirror.
His sleep seems fitful--every so often he will wince, and his other hand will twitch toward the trigger on his shotgun. However, the reflex passes quickly, and his sleep is otherwise undisturbed.