I feel sweaty, icky and dry. I can't run my fingers through my hair without forming any knots and my clothes are already starting to smell like an abandoned swamp. Lethargy's also streaming my muscles like blood.
It's been an eventful, exhausting morning. Without proper hygiene, I was summoned to the office after a serious talk with Axeyl, there I was briefed on how the prisoner escaped and now I can't seem to find my ride. I come to a temporary stop and scan the vast area of the parking lot, unable to recall where I last placed it. Those foot steps behind me don't go unnoticed.
Back there, the security didn't say anything but by the look on their faces told me everything. They sure must've wondered why I smelt like I've poured a whole bucket of perfume on me. The answer's simple hones
