[Riddick sighs. He doesn't know. Thinking about the trouble he's causing, the shift in the already volatile kitchen staff, is like having fiberglass under his skin. It itches, makes him feel more fatigued. Usually there'd be an adrenal kick to rip through his exhaustion-- but there isn't. He's out.
He shifts his shoulder. That rubbing Arthas is doing is kinda nice.]
no subject
He shifts his shoulder. That rubbing Arthas is doing is kinda nice.]