[ When this is over, Herc is going to beat the shit out of the drivesuit technicians until they fix the goddamn neural-load so that it fits to Chuck's specific neurological patterning, and his fifteen year old son doesn't have to puke his guts out in some toilet stall alone whenever he disconnects from the Drift.
Herc can't, but he wants to.
Herc ignores Chuck, pounding once on the door with the side of his fist -- because he knows how much even the subdued noise'll probably hurt Chuck's splitting head, and how much faster the pain will get Chuck to cooperate. ] You're ghosting. Stop wasting time and come out, boy.
[ Herc hesitates. He softens his voice, just a bit. ] I have something that can help.
no subject
Herc can't, but he wants to.
Herc ignores Chuck, pounding once on the door with the side of his fist -- because he knows how much even the subdued noise'll probably hurt Chuck's splitting head, and how much faster the pain will get Chuck to cooperate. ] You're ghosting. Stop wasting time and come out, boy.
[ Herc hesitates. He softens his voice, just a bit. ] I have something that can help.