[Follows THIS]

There was nothing a top notch widescreen plasma TV could even do to make subtitles good. When you had a head injury, having to read what you were trying to watch was about as fan as smacking yourself in the fash with a dead fish ala Monty Python. Rory was starting to get cabin fever during this whole recuperation bullshit. He was still too weak to do much of anything, but that didn't mean he didn't want to try. Only, he literally couldn't fart in this place without everyone knowing about it. He knew, he had tested the theory. It was about the only fun he could have, too. He was learning there was this period in the evening where all things Kindred seemed to disappear into the darkness. Feeding hour, or something. Even Airlie wasn't around. It wasn't like Blaise had left him high and dry. He had a laptop to use if he wanted, and there was the TV with cable and a shitload of movies if he wanted to watch. But Rory wasn't used to being laid up, and he was starting to get frustrated being isolated like this.

He pushed up and breathlessly got himself sitting on the side of the bed. He could feel things were getting better and he wasn't in massive amounts of pain anymore, but he was still restricted and needed help with certain things. But maybe if he just got up to walk around a bit, he could get some mobility back. And fitness. His fitness would have to be down the shitter by this point. He was hardly eating and he hadn't done anything physical in weeks. He needed to be functioning better so he could start to make the decisions he needed to. Moving had to clear some of the confusion in his head, right?

( Mathieu had listened to his godfather, and organised a meal to share with Emmeline... )


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