Under normal circumstances, Stitch was a fan of high speed vehicular mayhem. Months of living with a family who enjoyed surfing had likewise lessened his displeasure at getting wet. Careening down the a choppy river on an unfamiliar vessel being piloted by an obvious novice? Not his idea of a good time. Stitch had spent the majority of the trip clutching gunwhale, black eyes the size of dinner plates in an expression of horror.
And he had lost his hat. It had been jarred loose at some point and now rested at the rivers silty bottom. Or, given that this was the Hudson, there was a chance that it had already melted.
Wet, sore, and hatless Stitch sourly surveys the scene. Growling under his breath the entire time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 02:36 am (UTC)And he had lost his hat. It had been jarred loose at some point and now rested at the rivers silty bottom. Or, given that this was the Hudson, there was a chance that it had already melted.
Wet, sore, and hatless Stitch sourly surveys the scene. Growling under his breath the entire time.