[MaC] And so it begins... Warren

[Allen Veazey]

Warren Worthington
Flat #8

Warren slipped on his dress uniform jacket, noting as
he started to work the buttons that it had grown 
tighter over the last few weeks. 

Small wonder. He hadn't been wearing uniforms at
all; mostly pajamas and loose-fitting clothes. Lying
around, eating and taking medicine while his knee
throbbed. 

He looked down at his leg. Well, it could be worse.
Most of the bandages had come off just today, and
the doctor had encouraged him to undertake "light
exercise." Right. His uncle's empty flat was a godsend,
but he almost needed rope and pitons to make it
down to the street.

Hodges was a godsend there, too. The man had taken
one look at Warren's damaged knee and offered him
occasional use of the service lift. A fine fellow, that.
Salt of the earth. 

There. Buttons done, everything on straight... had to 
check everything twice, he thought, in this haze. That
little bottle certainly took the pain away, but thinking
was as much a chore as climbing. Almost, he thought
about missing the party, but... no. He'd been by himself
much too long. Uncle Albert was gone, might be gone
until Warren went back on duty. He might never see
him.

It doesn't matter, Warren thought, grabbing his cane.
I'm going back. Can't rest on my laurels, not when our
chaps were just barely holding the line. And this new
tactic, stepping up the blitz... how monstrous could a 
people become?

He turned. Enough ruminating. For one night, at least,
I'll put my own problems out of my head. The last chance
for some fun, last chance for quite a while. Maybe if
I hurried, I could find Hodges.

Warren almost whistled as he opened his door and 
began his usual limp towards the lifts.