And all he wanted was a quiet smoke... (Solo)

[Reeves]

11th Summer, 510 AV

Morning time... not that you'd be able to tell within the depths of the fortress.
Another sleepless night for Reeves. He had recently helped the Knights bring in a guy with a penchant for casual murder... some of the scenes he had witnessed just kept haunting him whenever he closed his eyes. Part of the reason he knew he would never be a Knight - he didn't have the stomach for it. He couldn't get the smell of death out of his nose especially. It made his stomach churn.

Reeves eventually got out of his uncomfortable bed, and got up to get changed. He'd use the outside pump to have a wash, though before any of that, he could really do with a cigarette. Taking his small pouch of tobacco from his bedside drawer, along with his small sheath of rolling papers, he thrust them into his trouser pocket and stretched hard.

A sharp pain seared through his left-hand side. Wincing, his hands immediately clasped around the effected area. Gingerly rolling his shirt up, he saw a nasty purple bruise glare from the bottom of his ribcage. He must have gotten it during that bar brawl the other night - he always managed to wound himself somehow; just his luck.
Rolling his eyes at the bruise, he wheezed, and stretched a little easier. Taking a chance, he tested his sore muscles around his ribcage by doing some exercise.

First he warmed up with a few simple stretches, making sure his muscles were nice and loose all over. Shaking his limbs out a little to warm them up, he then separated his legs to about shoulder width, moved his right arm up over his head, and stretched - pulling the side muscles tight. He did this for a little bit, then winced as he switched sides. He couldn't do it for long however, before his bruise began to ache and he had to stop, usually with a loud swear.
After a few pull-ups, and leg stretches, he cricked his neck, and flailed his arms about like an idiot. All of his joints clicked and creaked... probably due to his age. He knew he wasn't in very good shape, so he had to do what he could whilst involved in this business.

His memory of the brawl the other night was proof enough of that. Shuddering himself back to reality, he picked up a flannel, and made his way out of his room, and towards the local water pump to freshen up. First though, the first cigarette of the day...