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Did he shave at all? It must not have been very good. Then again, he grew hair quite quickly. Nevertheless, he spent some time staring at the ceiling. Again. It was beginning to become a cycle of waking, thinking about whether or not he had slept or even been awake before this, and then falling back into another short rest. He never thought it was possible for a human being to be so damn exhausted but so restless all at once. The worst part was that he couldnāt put the words together to explain how he was feeling given that his verbal and emotional IQ was a whole whopping digit.
He turned his head to peer out the door. Nothing stirred in his cabin - not even his pup. Sloane must have taken the dog out, which it was no doubt thankful for. If it hadnāt been for the saintly woman, he would have been sorely neglected. Especially during Liamās short stay in Tartarus.
He finally pulled himself off of the bed and walked out of his room. He didnāt bother to check his appearance. He was shaggy. His clothes were wrinkled. If he had bothered to look in the mirror at all, he would have noted that his eyes were nearly bloodshot.
The way he forced himself out of the house was devoid of his usual grandeur. Heavy feet dragged along the beaten pathway; footprints simply drag marks lazily pulling at the dirt and twigs. He had no energy. For an Ares child, it felt like death. He felt like death. Even his brain, whatever few working brain cells he had, was foggy.
Didnāt Sloane say something about food? Why was that the only bit of the conversation he had remembered? As if things werenāt already weird, he had forgotten about whatever was spoken. Heās sure it was important.
It didnāt matter. His brain wasnāt all there, and the path he ended up taking was less than beaten. Had he been in his right mind, he might have heard the shouting match between Lochlan and Trinity, but to be honest - everything sounded like a murmur right now. He was so damn beaten. Somehow, in some unknown amount of time, he made it to the main hall without walking off of one of Camp Athenās many notorious cliffs.
The first thing that caught his attention was how that shrimp did something to his half-sisterās butt. Listen, he knows Trinity can take care of herself. But damn, if he didnāt want to pop that idiotās head off. After Sloane, he was beginning to learn that women wanted to take care of their own problems around these parts. Thatās fine. Beside that, Trinity could probably use a little release from any pent up anger. Anger that all children of Ares seemed to have.
He was going to walk away. Honestlyā¦. He was. He was going to let Trinity have his moment, but after he realized that Tartarus was right around the corner for the both of them, he decided that it wouldnāt be in her best interest. She had already been caged up like an animal once. And well, Liam had already been to Hell. He didnāt need Trinity to deal with that trauma, either.
Sooooo, even if sheād be pissed at him for stealing her thunder, he came up on Lochlan. He wasnāt angry. At least, he didnāt feel angry at the moment. His hands were still in his pockets, and like a bull, he used the whole girth and strength of his body to simply force Lochlan forward until his face came into contact with the nearest wall. Lochlan was not facing him, and Liam didnāt care. It was probably better for the other man that there was no immediate access to his face.
He reached out, placed both palms on the wall near both sides of Lochlanās head and practically growled, "Iād let my sister rip your head off, but then sheād end up in fuckinā Hell. So, Iām just going to warn youā¦," he paused for a moment and leaned in close to one of his ears, "I just got back from there. Test me if you need a thrill." It took a lot of Liamās already hair-thin patience to not bash Lochlanās teeth into the side of the building, but without another word, the son of Hera got off relatively easy. Very easy, if you asked anyone around camp.
He'd leave Lochlan at the mercy of Wes, then. He hoped that Trinity wouldn't break all of the Shrimp's fingers. At once, at the very least.
The hulking slump of weariness then went into the main hall, did a quick scan for Sloane, and turned back around to head out. He must have missed her, or maybe she went somewhere else for a bit.
Eventually he found her; rather, Rocco found him and upon looking up, he then saw Sloane not too far behind. He bent down for a second and gave the pup a good pat, then, with a heavy sigh leaving his chest, stood back up and looked at the brunette. His voice was a mere exhausted drawl, and he sounded a bit helpless for such a large and intimidating man. "Can you, I dunno - like use your powers to make me sleep for eight hours? Or maybeā¦ you know-ā" he cut himself off and shuffled around for a moment, "Iām not a bitch, I just -" He tilted his head to the left and right a few times. "Needā¦ I dunnoā¦ helpā¦ sleeping. I donāt think I can function like this." He gestured to all of himself. Whatever that was.
He scratched the back of his neck. He was a man. A manly man. Nightmares. What a fucking joke. "Never mindā¦ Iām just rambling. Did you get food, orā¦?" He tried to change the subject, but kind of felt like he wouldn't be as successful as he thought.