brian "rudy is the worst pseudonym ever" moser ✂ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodplay) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-05-20 04:52 pm
bloodplay) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-05-20 04:52 pm
Entry tags:
she is a stalk, exhausted. she will do something with this.
CHARACTERS: emotionally disturbed preteen with dead drug smuggling parents (okayokay) and emotionally disturbed preteen with dead drug smuggling parents + like 25 years (bloodplay)
LOCATION: medical
WARNINGS: stitching up open wounds, Mathilda being Mathilda and Brian being Brian, totally useless blocks of establishing mindset introspection
SUMMARY: a serial killer gives a 12 year old wannabe hitman some first aid tips.
NOTES: NO THAT'S PRETTY MUCH IT
[ The forensics are airtight, he's certain -- Dexter's dutiful devotion to a lack of self-incrimination is second to none -- and out of his hands at this point besides. His mask is another matter entirely. Even now, when it fits more seamlessly than it has in months, he looks at his colleagues more and more often, and wonders: have they heard anything? What has Debra been saying? Has he given anything away? Do they suspect? The tension doesn't spring from fear, but from the uncertainty. It irritates him not to know where his priorities should lie, how to direct his focus while he still has it. Even more annoying than that, though, is the anticipation. He knows his hunger is only going to get worse, stronger and harder than ever to hide, once it comes back in full force. Soon the nagging phantom itch at the back of his mind is going to meet the red welling up behind his eyes, the weeks will stretch on, and he'll still be running dry. Might as well use the brief vacation from mania to set things in order.
He's always tried to arrange things so he has time to himself while working, but over the last month this has hit a new high. Solitude is the only state in which Brian can manage to fully enjoy his newly-earned calm, without distractions. This means that, whether or not there are other people in Medbay (and there probably are), he's very much by himself at the time of this log! It's nothing of interest; he's just fiddling with one of the synthesis machines, keeping an eye out for anything more compelling. And he hears someone approaching.
A light someone, so far as he can tell. Assuming it's a patient might come off presumptuous, especially with Kasukabe in the department, so he says nothing. Instead, he waits on the sound of footfalls, hands still idly playing across the cold metal surface. The bulk of the machine doesn't completely seclude him from any visitor's line of sight; even if it does, he'll speak up eventually once he sees who it is. Busywork is solitude's less attractive second cousin, but it too has its perks. ]
okayokay) and emotionally disturbed preteen with dead drug smuggling parents + like 25 years (bloodplay)LOCATION: medical
WARNINGS: stitching up open wounds, Mathilda being Mathilda and Brian being Brian, totally useless blocks of establishing mindset introspection
SUMMARY: a serial killer gives a 12 year old wannabe hitman some first aid tips.
NOTES: NO THAT'S PRETTY MUCH IT
[ The forensics are airtight, he's certain -- Dexter's dutiful devotion to a lack of self-incrimination is second to none -- and out of his hands at this point besides. His mask is another matter entirely. Even now, when it fits more seamlessly than it has in months, he looks at his colleagues more and more often, and wonders: have they heard anything? What has Debra been saying? Has he given anything away? Do they suspect? The tension doesn't spring from fear, but from the uncertainty. It irritates him not to know where his priorities should lie, how to direct his focus while he still has it. Even more annoying than that, though, is the anticipation. He knows his hunger is only going to get worse, stronger and harder than ever to hide, once it comes back in full force. Soon the nagging phantom itch at the back of his mind is going to meet the red welling up behind his eyes, the weeks will stretch on, and he'll still be running dry. Might as well use the brief vacation from mania to set things in order.
He's always tried to arrange things so he has time to himself while working, but over the last month this has hit a new high. Solitude is the only state in which Brian can manage to fully enjoy his newly-earned calm, without distractions. This means that, whether or not there are other people in Medbay (and there probably are), he's very much by himself at the time of this log! It's nothing of interest; he's just fiddling with one of the synthesis machines, keeping an eye out for anything more compelling. And he hears someone approaching.
A light someone, so far as he can tell. Assuming it's a patient might come off presumptuous, especially with Kasukabe in the department, so he says nothing. Instead, he waits on the sound of footfalls, hands still idly playing across the cold metal surface. The bulk of the machine doesn't completely seclude him from any visitor's line of sight; even if it does, he'll speak up eventually once he sees who it is. Busywork is solitude's less attractive second cousin, but it too has its perks. ]
no subject
No. Still just looked like meat, to her. That was annoying. If she was gonna be taking care of herself from here on out, that seemed like the kind of stuff she should know. No one was responsible for her body except her, after all- which is when she finally realized the gauze was there. So much for amazing awareness of her situation. She snatched it up with her good hand with a tiny blush for talking so long to do so.]
No. I don't like drugs. It's already messed up. I don't care about a little more. What's a tendon look like?