(no subject)

[imthepilot]

Bodhi's room is simple and narrow. Nothing more than a bed, a locker, a fresher and a writing desk.

There's nothing personal here. He has nothing. Owns nothing.

Is nothing.

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[imthepilot]

Bodhi sips the tea, nodding his thanks as the Doctor who isn't Galen lets himself out. Myrrh mews at him, headbutting him lightly at he lays down, curling up against Bodhi's chest.

Bodhi lays there a long time, waiting for the tea to do it's work. But even as his eyes finally close, they still rest on the small knife on the trolley.