Rain, natural snow weather disasters, or shine, bus stop benches are never the most comfortable. The only way for a person to ever fall asleep on one of them would probably require blunt force trauma to the head, or some kind of chemically-induced unconsciousness, or both.
Whatever Cesar Salazar's case is is left up for discussion. Kicked back in on the bench with his head back, Rex gets his first sign of actual life when the man stirs, face tightening in discomfort. He lifts his head slowly, rubbing the back of his extremely stiff neck as he does so, squinting blearily around--
He doesn't quite freeze to the spot, but the hand at his neck isn't moving anymore. "Rex?" Did he just call him hermano?
It's nothing to worry about, if he did. It doesn't change anything. "What are you doing here? ... Come to think of it--where is here?"
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Date: 2012-02-25 05:24 am (UTC)Whatever Cesar Salazar's case is is left up for discussion. Kicked back in on the bench with his head back, Rex gets his first sign of actual life when the man stirs, face tightening in discomfort. He lifts his head slowly, rubbing the back of his extremely stiff neck as he does so, squinting blearily around--
He doesn't quite freeze to the spot, but the hand at his neck isn't moving anymore. "Rex?" Did he just call him hermano?
It's nothing to worry about, if he did. It doesn't change anything. "What are you doing here? ... Come to think of it--where is here?"