‍ ‍ ‍ w.

has the day really gone on this long?

a dog is able to follow directions better than mr. hodukavich, will. it’s ultimately for his own benefit that things remain… regimented.

( a raised brow. it’s not that he doesn’t believe chris, the man always gets his work done, it’s more the speed that catches him off guard. the captain knows his point-man likes to take his time. a glance at the calendar, is it someone’s birthday? ) fine. i can spare two hours.

let’s go to my office, @NECROSISED. i believe we need to have a chat.

this is is own fault.

|| respectfully if you are uncomfortable with explicitly written canon-typical content like body horror and medical gore, you should probably unfollow the majority of writers in this space. i am not interested in tagging triggers for things that should be anticipated by default.

morning again.

( tapping syringe, humming a little tune. )

( a blank stare toward redfield. it’s not an uncommon request but… wesker checks his watch, checks the blinking light on his answering machine that tells of another complaint from his wayward friend— and sighs. ) have you finished the mercer report?

who else is going?

|| got that shit on

you did not specify which kind.