The fuck's she looking at? Oh right, he's a bloody fucking mess. He can’t really blame her. There’s a list of priorities in his head, and getting cleaned up is next on it, now that he’s got beer and chips. (Beer and chips had seemed most important, at the time.)
Luckily, Nexus and LA seem to have similar mentalities: mind ya own damn business.
While it’s clear the girl means well, he’s still embarrassed. He wrings his hands – an old nervous habit. He does manage to answer her question though, looking down at his blood soaked shirt before meeting her eyes: “Why do you ask?”
It's an attempt at a joke. He recognizes that there's absurdity to this situation. And he's fine. Fucking dead, but fine.
“Thanks,” he says, as she passes the wipes. He dabs at his face, and wipes some of the blood off his hands. He still looks pretty bad, but it was a sweet gesture anyway.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be a rude motherfucker,” he says after a beat. “Name’s Freddy. From California, United States, Earth, 1992 AD."
He assumes she doesn't want to shake hands with him.
no subject
Luckily, Nexus and LA seem to have similar mentalities: mind ya own damn business.
While it’s clear the girl means well, he’s still embarrassed. He wrings his hands – an old nervous habit. He does manage to answer her question though, looking down at his blood soaked shirt before meeting her eyes: “Why do you ask?”
It's an attempt at a joke. He recognizes that there's absurdity to this situation. And he's fine. Fucking dead, but fine.
“Thanks,” he says, as she passes the wipes. He dabs at his face, and wipes some of the blood off his hands. He still looks pretty bad, but it was a sweet gesture anyway.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be a rude motherfucker,” he says after a beat. “Name’s Freddy. From California, United States, Earth, 1992 AD."
He assumes she doesn't want to shake hands with him.