Nathan had experienced his fair share of hangovers, bouts of illness and the usual miseries in life. The night he was having went well beyond anything he’d suffered through in the past. It was the Hollow, he’d concluded, every full moon since his arrival there had been progressively worse; building up to the point he found himself in that evening debating if getting run over by an actual train was better than dealing with the metaphorical one that was screaming inside his skull.
Throw in an ongoing wave of intense nausea that had left him revisiting his lunch rather violently and the absolutely horrendous feeling of burning along his nerves under skin that he could practically feel with disgusting clarity slide over sore muscles? It was shaping up to be a delightful evening.
Not even counting the sanity-numbing echoes in his brain and what he hoped were some sort of moon-induced lapses in sanity that had put him in a mood that was even more teeth and sharp nerves that his normal degree. He hated it, all of it, he’d never suffered through the full moons before; it was a particularly spiteful sort of hell.
Everything was too loud, too much, he startled from a crashing from the kitchen and growled, shoving the door open with his shoulder to the sight of broken glass glittering from a tipped over pitcher flung across the counter and the window suspiciously ajar. It was hardly under his breath, the trail of tense words as he realized what had happened.
It was odd, a reflex, he had a perfectly good front door and yet he still flung the window up and used it as an exit instead. "Frankie, dammit, of all the nights to run off. You're going to get mauled in this Gaia-forsaken place." Nathan snapped, his cat running off was the perfect end note in that chorus of frustration.
No, nevermind; actually that was the window dropping shut behind him. The security glass window that locked automatically when shut. And the keys to his apartment...still in the apartment.
The roll of nausea creeping up in his stomach was by no means helped by the dizziness that spike of anger fueled. "Sonofva-" the string of curses that followed was rather creative as he stood there just glaring at the window with deep, exhausted, utter loathing.
