Fuck I couldn't sleep last night... Which is not the best thing not to do a night before a hunt. And I did everything right - had a nice productive afternoon, nice dinner, nice movie, nice book, nice sex, nice bed, nice thoughts, and still, the brain would just not shut down. Could have been the fact that G worked a night shift week again and the inertia dragged on, or the gazillion ideas rolling around in my brain regarding paint, or that I wondered whether telling the Hunter, if I find him having shot another magnificent creature tomorrow: "I've known you for a quarter of my life and you are the most talented huntsman I know, but I still can't decide whether I want to kiss you or hit you in your stupid fucking face ... " would sound cute. He seems like a person who's frightfully unpleasant when he's angry. Oddly literate, though. I read some of his angry letters. Punctuation and all. Makes me really want to provoke him into losing his cool. But then the General would probably take away all my drawing pencils ... O.o