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 Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2012 5:24 pm
To that, the drunk, miserable man gave barely a grunt. Whether he had heard it or felt it remained to be seen. He concentrated instead of pulling a few sad chords clumsily from the instrument before his hands finally slowed and exhaustion took him, slumping against the wall on the bare floor with the guitar in his lap.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2012 7:59 pm
Wash waited a few moments.
"Jerry?" He called softly.
When there was no response, he quietly went into the other hunter's side. Sound asleep. He took the guitar and placed it back on his stand. With a sigh, Wash slipped an arm across his back, snaking the other under the hunter's knees. He grunted, lifting with his legs as he'd been taught from years of manual labor, and slowly made his way to the bed, delicately tucking the wounded-looking man under the covers.
"I ain't tellin' you no bedtime stories," he grumbled teasingly.
He made sure to turn out the lights before he left.
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