11th Wave

[tentacruelest]

[Davy is, at last, waking up in the infirmary after his tiff with Stephanie and Kevin. He's restrained to a bed, but his tentacled beard holds his communicator close as he narrows his eyes at the screen, hissing angrily]


Someone best be coming to let me up. Cast me in Zero if yeh like, but let me up to stretch these limbs-!

I didnae kill the whelp, nor his dog. Let me up.

[Private to the Admiral]

[Nothing. Davy doesn't give gifts. He doesn't like any of you]

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[tentacruelest]

[With a disbelieving snort, Jones limps his way into his room - his very tiny room - and slams the door in Bush's face.

Even his mun doesn't know what he expects to do in there; there's no books, no music, nothing to entertain him in his solitude]