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Message: <blockquote data-quote="zombiedude" data-source="post: 965281" data-attributes="member: 11060">RAyburn paced his room, his bed was pristine from non-use.  He puffed a cigarette steadily.  His eyes were heavy, but the thought of closing his eyes terrified him.  That would mean sleeping, and sleeping lead to dreaming, and dreaming meant that he'd have to live Costa Rica all over again and he couldn't do that.  Not if he could help it.    Still, he could only go so long without sleep.  He realized that he was not thinking clearly after the events at the Speakeasy.  What was he thinking heading for the back door?  He knew cops would be waiting out there.  Still, he almost lead the three of them into the arms of the police. Thank god for Tony.  At least he kept a clear head.  Maybe he had the fellow all wrong.  He certainly seemed capable after all, and he kept a clear head in the crisis.So did the dame, dammit!  She was cooler than most men he knew.  Maybe Tony was right about her, too.   Keeping cool was the first step in survival, everything else came second.  All the skills in the world are worthless if you're too panicked to use them.Obviously, he'd have to rethink his opinion of all of his team members.  Well, except for the priest and the reporter.They still had to prove themselves. Regardless, none of that really mattered if he didn't get rest.  He looked to the bed and felt the dread smother him.  Maybe he could use the morphine one more time. . . . No, he would try it without the drugs, no need to complicate matters.  Rayburn climbed onto his bed.  He felt under the pillow and found his blade where he had left it.  He gripped the hilt in his hand, closed his eyes, and prayed that the nightmares would go easy one him tonight.</blockquote>

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