Brendan Frye | Brick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dirtyword) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-09-15 05:08 am
dirtyword) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-09-15 05:08 am
Entry tags:
the detective and the fool
CHARACTERS: Heather Mason (sweetmotherofgod), Brendan Frye (dirtyword). Closed!
LOCATION: Somewhere in a darkened hallway.
WARNINGS: Alcohol. It's Heather, so obviously swearing.
SUMMARY: Brendan knows that look when he sees it. Heather's about to break.
NOTES: Takes please immediately after this.
It's the little things. The hollowness in her eyes, the way she speaks. She's had it and Brendan almost feels sorry for her. Almost.
He's lost a hell of a lot more in a shorter amount of time. Maybe it's selfish, yeah, but there's a part of Brendan that just wants her to get over it. Get over whatever loss she'd had, move on, breathe again. But he also knows that telling her as much won't get her anywhere.
She's at that odd stage where all you do is hate everyone. Maybe Brendan has it easier because he already disliked pretty much everyone except Brain when Emily died, because Heather's a jittery mess. Like a coffee zombie, or one of the speed freaks at the back of Coffee and Pie. Like Brendan before he put everything to rest, like Brendan moments before he woke up here.
He's at a darkened section of the hallway, sitting down on the floor with a bottle of vodka. He's not one for it, but it was what he could grab on such short notice. He notices Heather and simply raises the bottle to her, nodding.
"No dice on Hotspur. Not yet." He hadn't been looking--hadn't had time. "But I managed to unearth an elixir." And with that, Brendan handed the bottle over to the blonde.
sweetmotherofgod), Brendan Frye (dirtyword). Closed!LOCATION: Somewhere in a darkened hallway.
WARNINGS: Alcohol. It's Heather, so obviously swearing.
SUMMARY: Brendan knows that look when he sees it. Heather's about to break.
NOTES: Takes please immediately after this.
It's the little things. The hollowness in her eyes, the way she speaks. She's had it and Brendan almost feels sorry for her. Almost.
He's lost a hell of a lot more in a shorter amount of time. Maybe it's selfish, yeah, but there's a part of Brendan that just wants her to get over it. Get over whatever loss she'd had, move on, breathe again. But he also knows that telling her as much won't get her anywhere.
She's at that odd stage where all you do is hate everyone. Maybe Brendan has it easier because he already disliked pretty much everyone except Brain when Emily died, because Heather's a jittery mess. Like a coffee zombie, or one of the speed freaks at the back of Coffee and Pie. Like Brendan before he put everything to rest, like Brendan moments before he woke up here.
He's at a darkened section of the hallway, sitting down on the floor with a bottle of vodka. He's not one for it, but it was what he could grab on such short notice. He notices Heather and simply raises the bottle to her, nodding.
"No dice on Hotspur. Not yet." He hadn't been looking--hadn't had time. "But I managed to unearth an elixir." And with that, Brendan handed the bottle over to the blonde.
no subject
"I didn't realize you were still looking." On a normal day there'd be surprise in her voice, maybe a thank you tacked on the end. There isn't today. "You have something to go on?"
no subject
"Not yet. Small fish in a big pond. I can handle this but not in space. Not without a network." Not with technology--not when he's from a world where payphones still exist and Brain's somewhere down there, waiting for the bus and using his Rubik's cube.
He shrugs, reaching for the drink and taking a large swig.
"I need more time."