The skinny man with outlandishly purple hair watched the antics with the 'bull' from the bar, a stubborn frown on his face while he tried to ignore the voice in his ear that egged him on.
'But come on, Boims! You're not going to just take the back seat in your own life, are you?'
It was a voice that only he heard-- annoying, challenging, but familiar in a way that endless sky above the town was to him. If he reached, he almost could touch it....
Instead, he doubled down and sipped loudly on his tequila and soda, feeling unsettled and restless by the lack of a list of things that needed to be done.
"I'm ignoring you--" he said, louder as the voice continued to taunt him. "I'm just going to sit here, drink my soda, and try not to think too much about all of this."
But his words were just noise, as his thoughts were already spinning as fast as the stars must surely be in the skies above.
Face your fears
It was indeed pancakes that were interrupted. Pancakes and juice and a few slices of orange that he had ordered that morning in order to start the day off right-- with carbs and vitamin C, not a healthy dose of Existentialism.
The sun had barely risen, but all Brad could see was a blinding darkness all around him, devoid of light and the warmth of another friendly presence.
He held fast to his plate of pancakes while he tried to search the area for some sort of clue. The warm aroma of the maple syrup quickly grew foul as the plate grew cold in his hand.
"Um... Hello?" Boimler called, his voice reedy with worry. "This isn't funny, guys. I came here for pancakes, not--"
Something cold hit his hand -- and Boimler dropped the plate with a startled shriek. The clattering of broken glass and the wet feeling of cold liquid splattering on his leg earned yet another shriek.
Ensign Brad Boimler | Star Trek: The Lower Decks
"Oh no, I'm not doing it."
The skinny man with outlandishly purple hair watched the antics with the 'bull' from the bar, a stubborn frown on his face while he tried to ignore the voice in his ear that egged him on.
'But come on, Boims! You're not going to just take the back seat in your own life, are you?'
It was a voice that only he heard-- annoying, challenging, but familiar in a way that endless sky above the town was to him. If he reached, he almost could touch it....
Instead, he doubled down and sipped loudly on his tequila and soda, feeling unsettled and restless by the lack of a list of things that needed to be done.
"I'm ignoring you--" he said, louder as the voice continued to taunt him. "I'm just going to sit here, drink my soda, and try not to think too much about all of this."
But his words were just noise, as his thoughts were already spinning as fast as the stars must surely be in the skies above.
Face your fears
It was indeed pancakes that were interrupted. Pancakes and juice and a few slices of orange that he had ordered that morning in order to start the day off right-- with carbs and vitamin C, not a healthy dose of Existentialism.
The sun had barely risen, but all Brad could see was a blinding darkness all around him, devoid of light and the warmth of another friendly presence.
He held fast to his plate of pancakes while he tried to search the area for some sort of clue. The warm aroma of the maple syrup quickly grew foul as the plate grew cold in his hand.
"Um... Hello?" Boimler called, his voice reedy with worry. "This isn't funny, guys. I came here for pancakes, not--"
Something cold hit his hand -- and Boimler dropped the plate with a startled shriek. The clattering of broken glass and the wet feeling of cold liquid splattering on his leg earned yet another shriek.
Adrenaline pumping, Boimler turned to flee. "Oh, forget this. I'm outta--"
But the sentence never finished; he ran smack into an unseen wall instead, and promptly passed out.
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