TMA Appreciation Week, August 12: Somewhere Else
Spoilers through MAG 200.
The first morning was odd.
They’d fallen asleep on the single bed without a protest, dropping their ozone-scented clothes on the floor, and collapsing naked together onto the musty sheets.
Neither had cared. Jon’s side was still bandaged, and still sluggishly bleeding. They’d traveled a portal and landed in a field and been crushed by a corpse and panicked and stitched and somehow walked ages (Jon said it was 5.2 kilometers) until they’d seen this house at fuck-o-clock in the morning and found it empty.
Martin could smell himself. He was ripe. Quietly as he could, he slid out of bed.
He didn’t look at Jon more than once.