<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/474x/88/03/cd/8803cda331af378ebc752e5678f815e2--nick-bateman-black-opal.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Hal Jordan (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=294841.msg14459790#msg14459790)<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong> Unknown, definitely Day<br/><strong>Location:</strong> The White Room<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> John and Raven<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Navy-blue hoodie, white grease-spotted shirt, brown khaki jean pants, and socks<br/><strong>Note:</strong> Too hungover to care.</span><br/><hr/><br/>Hal glanced from Raven to John when she made a comment about his stench. His eyes were red, eyelids heavy, and the lights were so disorienting with how bright they were. A headache was sitting on the frontal lobe of his brain as though it weighed less than 20 lbs. In summary, there weren’t enough fucks for him to give that she had insulted him. It might have been the booze prior to his landing, but sometimes, Hal had tough skin. His hand was grasping the back of his neck. His interrupted sleep was making him feel<em>touchy</em>. When one was so tired that all they could do was touch their face to stay awake. It didn’t seem to matter that he was standing. If he didn’t stay focused, then he might have fallen flat on his face.<br/><br/>Blinking his eyes slowly, Hal comprehended Raven saying that this wasn’t a MEPS facility and it was possibly a holding cell. They were just as lost as he was. As she continued to talk, Hal dropped his hand and peered over his shoulder. The wall was pretty far away to curl up and sleep against. He carefully lowered to the ground, spreading his arms for balance. He dropped to one knee at a time before he lowered onto his side and brought his legs close to his chest.<br/><br/><em>This girl talks too much. What is she talking about? What was there to talk so much about?</em>Hal’s last thoughts were before he tugged the hood over his eyes. “So much talking…” he said on a slur. He was so sleepy he couldn’t even think anymore. “I’m…sleep.” And…he fell asleep.<br/><br/>Appearing in a foreign and unknown detention facility—whatever it was—didn’t seem to concern someone who was a borderline evictee. He was barely making rent, being threatened with eviction, and he was trying so hard to make a living so his parents didn’t think he was a bum. He had been so nervous about the ASVAB that he had decided to drink. It could have been<em>fate</em>bringing him to his current location but for what reason? It had yet to be determined.