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Endless [23 Dec 2004|12:22am] Connor already had what they were taking packed, and the last thing he had to do before getting them wisked away to England was to call people and let them know they were going to be gone. He picked up the phone in the kitchen, nursing a headache, and dialed Rhiannon's cell. Rhiannon sat on the edge of a familiar couch, her eyes staring sightlessly at the stack of papers on her lap. A ballpoint pen rested between her fingers but didn't move across the page. A man in a tweed suit sat across from her, seeming oblivious to the freezing temperature in a house that hadn't felt heating in over a month. "Ms. Lee?" he asked with an expectant look. Rhiannon blinked and met his eyes. "Is that your cell phone?" Rhiannon glanced towards the dining room table, where her cell phone was vibrating across the worn wood. Rhiannon slid the clipboard and pen aside, noting that the latter had left blue stains on her fingers. "Yeah... sorry," she replied, and moved towards the phone. She didn't bother to check the ID before answering. "Hello?" "Hey Rhiannon." Connor said, sounding tired. "Connor?" Rhiannon asked, tossing a look towards Tweed Suit before moving closer to the kitchen. He had to be wearing tweed... like a harbinger of ill will. ( Fade In, Fade Out ) Rhiannon closed her phone and slipped it into her pocket. Her eyes wandered around the kitchen, from the linoleum floor to the faded yellow curtains by the window. She rubbed her arms and took a deep breath, then returned to the living room. reply

Questions and Answers [23 Dec 2004|12:22am] [ mood | numb ] Dominick raised his head that had been resting on his arms on the table when he heard the door opened. A man wearing a blue shirt, black slacks, and a gun in a shoulder holster came in and placed a cup of tea in front of him. Then the detective glanced down at his notepad. "Dominick Young. My name is Roger, and I'm in charge of this investigation. How do you know Miss Kris Michaels?" He looked up from his notepad and peered at Dominick, his expression tired and worn. Dominick noticed that the man had a bandage wrapped around his arm that hadn't been there before when Dominick was brought in. The bandages were already stained with blood. Dominick's eyes moved from the officer's wound to his face and met a cold and calculating stare. Dominick thought better than to ask what had happened. He cleared his throat and sipped from his tepid tea before answering. "Kris is a good friend and roommate." "Friend and roommate? Is that what they call it these days?" Roger smirked at Dominick, and Dominick's ears stained pink. "We are not lovers, if that is what you are insinuating." ( Further Questions ) reply

From Bad To Worse [23 Dec 2004|12:44am] [ mood | numb ] ------ Non Journal Entry ------ Kris was sat in a rather small room. A metal table sat in front of her and a clear mirror spread across one of the walls. Her brown eyes rested on the mirror and all she saw was her own reflection but Kris knew better. People watched her like she watched them. Her arms went across her chest and she shifted in the wooden chair that had provided for her. How long would she be expected to wait? Her eyes glanced back towards the door and she wondered how her Watcher was holding up throughout all of this. Kris looked to the ceiling and she counted how many tiles spread across it. It was funny the things you noticed when you were bored. The door finally opened and a man entered. As Kris looked to him, she took in the blue shirt, the black slacks and most especially the gun holster around his shoulder. He dropped down into the seat in front of her and tossed a brown folder out onto the table." Miss Michaels, my name is Roger. I'll be the one asking the questions." Kris looked away as she rolled her eyes." Right." She answered quite simply as her gaze finally returned to the Officer sat in front of her. " How do you know Mister Robertson?" Roger asked as he clasped his hands together and fixed Kris with his stare. Kris inhaled slowly before she replied." I don't know him." It was the truth; she hadn't known the man in question. The first time she had laid eyes on him had been in that alleyway and even then, she hadn't known his name. Roger simply nodded his head." If that is indeed the truth. Would you care to explain why you were seen fleeing the crime scene?" He started to look through the folder as he awaited Kris' answer. Now this question was one Kris had no answer for. Images flashed through her mind but they were blurred and confusing. She couldn't make any sense out of them but she wished she could. Her hand curled around the one arm of her chair and her grip tightened for a moment as Mister Robertson's dead, lifeless eyes flashed through her mind. Those eyes would haunt her for a very long time to come." I can't explain it. I wish I could but I can't." This didn't satisfy Roger as he snorted lightly. The brown folder was opened and five pictures were spread out in front of Kris. Each picture was of Mister Robertson. Each picture showed his dead body in different angles and each picture brought Kris back to a time she didn't want to remember. Kris looked at the pictures and had to grit her teeth as her entire stomach lurched forward and threatened to come straight out of her mouth. " Ringing any bells yet?" Roger asked in a patronising tone of voice. " Yes and no." Kris answered stiffly. Her eyes moved away from the pictures. Her breathing was slightly shaky and her stomach was churning." I did find Mister Robertson but I don't know what happened to him or how I even got to be in that alleyway." Her story sounded weak to her own ears and she knew it must have sounded even worse to Roger's ears. And Kris would be right. Roger's posture changed, he hunched over and leaned closer to her." So you just happened to find Mister Robertson? And I suppose you can't even explain why his chest was cut open and his heart was removed? You had nothing to do with that, right?" His eyes ran over her and he lifted an eyebrow." What will we find if we search your house, Miss Michaels? Will we find clothes soaked in Mister Robertson's blood? Will we find the weapon you used to kill him?" Kris could feel her anger rising. Her cheeks felt hot and her jaw clenched together." What exactly are you trying to achieve?" She asked in a soft voice but the volume spoke much for Kris' state of mind. She was very close to smacking Roger. " I'm trying to establish the truth. I'm doing my job and if I do it right, people like you will never see the light of day ever again." Roger snarled. His eyes flashed with anger. He appeared to be taking this case very personally. " People like me?" Kris asked. Those dark brown eyes darkened with her anger. Her grip had tightened on the chair and the wood appeared to be cracking. Roger nodded his head before leaning back into his chair." The degenerates. The ones who think they can get away with anything. Well, guess what? Not this time, Miss Michaels. We're onto you and I know that you killed Mister Robertson. I may not have the proof I need but I know it in here." His hand rested over his stomach. Kris didn't know what had come over her. A sudden wave of anger and pain washed over her and she acted. The strain of the last couple days had finally proven too much for the Slayer. She moved out of her chair and wrapped her hands around the back of the chair. The chair was then lifted and was slammed straight into the mirror." I did NOT kill him!" She yelled loudly as glass shards rained down onto the ground. Kris' eyes were bright with her anger and her desperation to prove her innocence shone through the anger. Everything was blurred from then onwards. She heard someone shout to cuff her and she heard someone crying out in pain. As she turned her head. Her eyes widened as there embedded in Roger's arm was a rather large piece of glass. Kris' anger quickly dissipated and the chair was soon dropped. She mumbled an apology and she didn't even fight as three men tackled her. They laid her face down on the ground before they cuffed her wrists. Kris wasn't even listening and she made no move to protect herself as they lifted her from the ground and marched her from the room to one of the holding cells. reply

Whatever Will Be, Will Be [23 Dec 2004|11:56am] The headstone was cheap. Nothing more than a slab of thick granite marking the birth and death of a man named Mitchell Thomas Lee. No sentimental statements to mask the past. 'Beloved Father, Devoted Husband.' No angels to watch over him, no cross to show he'd followed a path laid by god. This was what it all came down to. A name and an expiration date. And though it seemed unbearably harsh and insufficient, it made sense in a way. In the end, the only thing you could hope was that your life had meant something to you, and everyone you loved, because it all ended the same way. An anonymous pile of ashes, or a name no one would remember in fifty years. Rhiannon was crouched above the cold ground, her elbows resting on her knees as those thoughts swam through her head. She reached out and ran her fingers over the letters of his name. To her right, her mother's headstone rested in much the same manner. "Guess I'm what's left," Rhiannon murmured, and withdrew her hand. She let her eyes focus on the far wall of the cemetery, and then on the city beyond. There was nothing here for her anymore. No Watcher, no family, and no former friend or lover she'd want to know again. All I am is in Searchlight. A few days ago, that thought had terrified her. Her father's presence had been a bit like unearthing some treasure from the past. You hadn't missed it, hadn't even realized it was still yours, and suddenly the thought of losing it seemed unbearable. Now it was lost to her, but Rhiannon wasn't scared. Isn't that what she'd wanted all along? To exist for her calling, to shed her past and her baggage and just be a Slayer? Hadn't she been trying to do that all along? It was part of the appeal of Searchlight, part of the reason her chest had thrummed as she sat on that bus in July, just waiting to begin again. "Who says I can't?" Rhiannon straightened her legs and stood. Screw the past. Screw the boxes in the back of her apartment-- it didn't matter what was inside. Screw being ashamed of what Tristan had done to her-- she'd twist it into an advantage if it killed her. All she had was right now. All she'd ever be was just herself. So use it, she thought. Rhiannon lifted her fingertips to her mouth and kissed them. She placed her fingers on her father's headstone, then turned to do the same with her mother's. "No more regrets." She turned and walked toward the gates. There was a plane she needed to catch. reply

Running [23 Dec 2004|12:22pm] It seemed like hours since she passed the "Leaving Searchlight" sign, lost in the rhythm of the wheels of her car. It still smelled like him, but she knew that every day, it faded away a little more. Just like him. She felt a new batch of tears prick at her eyes. She spent the last five years of her life since that day when he first died this way. The feeling of being incomplete, like half of her heart was missing, was back with a vengeance. Only her iron clad will kept her driving. As she passed landmarks in the desert around her, an image of him commenting or stretching at a stop sign haunted her. Searchlight. The town she had believed was a haven, where she could begin her healing process. That went swimmingly. Moments after meeting her fellow Slayers and maybe having a chance with someone new, she gets drunk and ruins it all by seeing Adam in Aidan's place. Everytime she looked at Aidan, she saw Adam. Adam. The wounds were still fresh and she alternated from being livid to feeling as if her world had crumbled. And it was Will's fault. Making Adam think that he had to do it so Will could be the "Watcher". And whoever orchestrated this spell couldn't possibly have had someone they cared about around, or they'd side with her. They'd pay. Soon. But now, all she could think about was running. Her modus operandi. Repeating history. Escaping. reply

Alive [23 Dec 2004|12:37pm] [ mood | melancholy ] ------ Non Journal Entry ------ Consciousness hit Matthew like a slap in the face. It was abrupt and caused his entire body to sting and burn. He gasped as his eyes snapped open but the gasp settled into a soft moan as the light in the room seemed to hurt his eyes. Everything was slightly blurry and it felt like he couldn't breathe. Something heavy was pressing down into his chest and only after a moment or two did he realise it was actually someone's arm. His head turned and blue eyes came to rest on Jo. Had she been here the whole time? Matthew turned his head back to close his eyes as he tried to navigate his way through the pain, confusion and the remorse. His mother was gone. Dominick's sister was gone. Rhiannon's father was gone. Adam was gone. They were all gone and it was because of him. He knew he had done what needed to be done but the pain of loss was fresh in both his mind and heart. He lifted his hands to rest against his face. The tips of his fingers pressed into his skin as he gritted his teeth together. The tears were coming, Matthew knew this. He could feel them prickling at the corners of his eyes and he could already hear his breathing changing. He would not do this. He would not. He hadn't done this nine years ago; he would not do it now. He kept repeating that to himself but it wasn't enough. The tears came and all the grief and sorrow finally came out. Matthew had kept it bottled up inside and he could no longer control himself; he could no longer keep such a tight rein on his emotions. He slowly shifted out from beneath Jo and turned to rest his feet against the ground. He only briefly noticed he was wearing different clothes. His elbows came to rest against the top of his knees and his hands found their way into his hair. His eyes slid shut and tears fell down over his cheeks. Matthew's body shuddered as he continued to cry for his loss along with everyone else's. As he cried, he could hear his father's voice in his head telling him to stop crying, to stand up straight, to be a good little boy. Brave little boys didn't cry. Boys who had killed their mother didn't deserve to cry. That one particular sentence kept repeating over and over in his head. When he was seventeen, he had raised his mother's blood pressure to a startling level and it had sparked a heart attack. Now at age twenty six, he had been given a chance to have his mother in his life again but his duty had dictated that she should not be there and so he had done what was needed. His mother had said she was proud of him and didn't blame him but it did nothing to ease Matthew's own guilt. Guilt for killing his own mother and guilt for killing all those others. He knew the spell had been necessary but somehow it did nothing to rid him of this pain and guilt. His fingers curled around dark strands of his hair and tightened into an almost painful grip. His body hunched further into itself as he tried to get control back. As he desperately tried to control the never-ending tears. Whenever Matthew cried, he always did it alone and it was always in the dark. It had been the only way to cry around his father, it had been the only way he could express any emotion as a child. He had to be strong, he had to be a good little boy and if he wasn't, his father would find out and then Matthew would pay for showing emotion. The rest of the world had ceased to matter as Matthew was lost to his own demons. reply

Empty House [23 Dec 2004|12:37pm] Hayden pulled his Jeep along the curb outside Dominick's house and climbed out. His thoughts were occupied by what he'd seen in the mine shafts. Though he was patient by nature, he didn't want to wait any longer to talk about what it could mean, and what their next step should be. Was he over-reacting? Did he need this portal to be important, in order to feel as though he was doing something that mattered? No, it is important, he reasoned for the dozenth time since leaving those messages. They've all felt this pull. She feels it even when she's sleeping. This can't be a coincidence. Could it? Hayden closed the driver's side door and headed up the walk. Eddy bounded around the corner of the house and slammed into Hayden's legs. He leaned down and scratched behind the dog's ears. "Hey, boy." He looked up, noticing for the first time that the house seemed empty. He didn't know why it should seem that way from the outside, but it did. Hayden continued towards the door, his legs moving in long, sure strides. He ambled up the steps and knocked. As he waited for someone to answer, he slipped his hands into the threadbare pockets of his jeans and looked around, rocking back and forth on the soles of his brown boots. Eddy barked and took off around the house. Hayden descended the porch steps and followed. At the back door, Eddy stopped by his food bowl and begun to plow his way through the contents. Hayden knocked on that door as well. Inside, the house looked dark. No sign of Kris or her Watcher. Hayden flipped his cell phone open and dialed Kris' number. As it flipped to voicemail, he said, "Hey, beautiful, it's me. I'm actually standing outside your house right now. Doesn't look like you're home. *pauses and a dog can be heard panting in the background; Hayden chuckles* I like your dog, don't get me wrong... but I'd rather get this kind of greeting from you. Ahh... I guess you're out training with Dominick. Do me a favor and give me a call when you get in. I love you." Hayden closed the phone and knelt down, grabbing Eddy behind the ears. "See you soon, alright?" He gave the dog's ears a playful tug before heading back to his Jeep. reply

Catching Up [23 Dec 2004|01:34pm] Jason tapped his cigarette into the ash tray on his desk and sneered. Lexi Baker, the pick pocket he had payed a retainer too, had skipped town with no word, the money he had paid her, and not a lick of work done. He was not happy. But Wolfram & Hart's network was wide. Someday he'd find her, and she would pay him back, with interest compounded. Oh, yes she would. The dead were gone from Searchlight too. And some people weren't happy. Carruthers's Slayer had left town as well. He had contacted a couple agents to retrieve her and bring her to him. She might be a valuable ally. But this still left the problem of the missing pick pocket. He could do the work himself, but he didn't want to be recognized. So he would have to hide who he was. That would be fun. Been a while since he'd tried to go "undercover." Should be a hoot. He just wanted to talk to Beth and set up his meeting with Tristan, and then he'd spend a while in that dirtspeck of a town. His smiled widened as he imagined what was going to come of all this. 1 comment | reply

Mirrors [23 Dec 2004|01:55pm] Star leaned closer to the mirror, running the moist tip of her lip gloss applicator across her mouth. She pressed her lips together and made a 'smacking' noise, then leaned back. Satisfied, she recapped the gloss and turned her attention to her new shirt. Star tipped her head to the side as she studied it. It was a filmy creation of pink silk and black lace. The neckline was dangerously low, passing just above her nipples. "I don't know about this top, Mom." She took hold of the material and tugged upwards. Vivian looked up from her perch on the bathtub, where she was smoothing cream over a pair of calves waxed to perfection. She watched Star fight with the silk and gave an exasperated sigh, wiping her hands in a rose-colored towel. "For God's sake, Star, don't pull. You'll ruin the stitching." She moved behind her teenage daughter and settled the shirt into its original position. Star lifted and dropped her shoulders, then leaned forward experimentally. Her jaw dropped. "Mom! How am I supposed to wear this to school? You can see all the way to my navel." Vivian lifted her daughter's hair and twisted it above her head. "Then be sure to lean over as often as possible. If they're staring at your cleavage, no one will notice you can barely read." Vivian dropped the long curls and returned to her daily moisturizing routine. Star's breath caught in her chest, and she lowered her chin so Vivian wouldn't see the hurt look on her face. Vivian squeezed the tube of cream and spread the contents between her palms. "I didn't bring you to California so you could get stuck in some remedial classroom with the juvenile delinquents. Just remember that." Star nodded and lifted her head. Never let anyone look down on you. She reached for a bottle of expensive perfume and spritzed a bit on her inner wrists and behind each ear. Vivian rubbed moisturizing cream onto her elbows and smiled. "That's my girl." ***** Star dried her hands with a length of paper towel. Her eyes lifted from the sink to the mirror she'd just cleaned. She forced herself to see the glass itself, rather than the reflection in it. As good as it's going to get. She tossed the towels in a can and moved back to the counter of the Gas 'N Go. reply

New Kind Of Threat [23 Dec 2004|04:21pm] [ mood | irritated ] The metallic blue El Camino pulled up to the front of the club. Out stepped a man by the name of Robert Jones. He was dressed like any thug on the street. Baggy jeans, couple of pieces of gold jewelry and an sports jersey over his rather muscular frame. He leaned his head into the car as his friend shifted into the driver seat, "Gimmie 10 minutes and come back around." The car drove off as he walked to the side and the front doors to Heaven's Peak. He walked up to one of the bouncers, "Yo, I need to talk to your boss-lady. She in? She's got business waiting outside." The bouncer regarded the man with an indifferent expression." The boss-lady ain't got no business unless she says she has business." The bouncer was a tall, muscular man who was obviously good at what he did. His friend wasn't very small either and both guarded the club's doors like two well trained rottweilers. Bethany chose her help very well. Both men had a history in crime; both men had assaulted cops and had served time in prison. Both men had run with gangs and were loyal to her. "Alright, alright. No need to get to angry." Robert shifted on his feet. "Local gangs been fixing to roll on this place. I've been sent to rep and ask a question, if she answers it, then I think I can get these people off her back. I'm not packin so y'all can ease off. I don't show up to peace talks with weapons." He brushed his upper lip with a thumb and sniffled, "So I'd say your boss-lady is gonna catch business that she doesn't want." The bouncers rolled their eyes and one snickered. This guy obviously didn't know Bethany very well. The smaller man flicked his cigarette to the side and muttered." Stay put, I'll see if she'll see you but I ain't making any promises." With that, he vanished into the club. The other man shifted to rest in the middle of the doors. Robert gave an aggravated sigh and he stepped away from the doors. He moved to the other side of the alleyway and took of his hat. He ran a hand through the short hair and put the hat back on backwards. He looked up and down the alleyway feeling out of place. He didn't like being in Vegas at all. It was crawling with all sorts. Sorts, he didn't like. Bethany turned her head as one of her bouncers whispered a message in her ear. An eyebrow arched and she sighed." Show him in." She smoothed the black silk of her suit down over her curves and she inhaled slowly. This wasn't what she needed right now. Bethany walked to the glass of a nearby window and watched as people danced on the lower ground. The bouncer left her side and wandered out of her office and out of the club." Follow me." He spoke to the other man. Robert smirked; he moved off the wall and followed the guy. "Nice place. Girl knows her business." His eyes seemed a bit more worried about those around him then where he was walking. His well being was at stake especially with Bethany's clientele. He was led up a stair case and show in. The bouncer disappeared and the door was shut. Robert straightened up and turned to Bethany. "Ms. Richards? My name is Robert Jones." Bethany turned around and rested those cool brown eyes on Robert." Hello Robert." She slid her arms across her chest and she remained standing." What can I do for you?" "Ms. Richards, I'm here as a representative. A couple of the gangs in Vegas have taken a rather large and vicious hit to our...business. The thing is...It's been traced back to you." Robert walked over to the glass and looked out onto the club's floor. "I've been able to convince my group to ease off because of your 'service' to the community." Robert turned back to her. She simply listened. Of course, she should be more worried but she never worried unless the time came for it." Representative? For what exactly?" She turned and rested back against the table." Is this the part where you tell me how much trouble I'm in and how much heat I can expect? Hm?" Robert shook his head, "Nope. We like your business. Keeps the riff raff off the streets. The one's we can't put four bullets in and get off our backs. I told my group this and the other gangs. They eased off, and because I got them to ease off they sent me. I need to ask for the guy's name who did this to our organization. We want him, not you." " Is that all?" Bethany asked. She pushed away from her table and scrawled a name." My bouncer was sure you were here to threaten me. The boys can be a little overprotective at times." She glanced to the paper. Azure's name was written there. She had a brief flicker of doubt, should she? Shouldn't she? She owed him nothing. "It's only a threat if I don't get the name. Three gangs have been chompin at the bit, loading up and gearin up. They've been planing on coming here and doing some damage." Robert held up his hands. "I don't need that kinda heat. My posse has enough on its hands already. We lost the drugs, but we lost a lot of people when that fool attacked us. Because of that we've lost respect, we've lost territory, and we've lost family. I want him a hell of a lot more than I want to do anything to this fine establishment." " I'd like to see them try." Bethany muttered with a slight smirk. She had connections that ran deeper than any of the local gangs. And she would be right in the middle of it. Hurting those who tried to hurt her. She flicked the paper towards him." Happy now?" She was quite obviously irritated by this entire conversation. She disliked threats and if anyone tried it, she would make them pay. She had done it before and she would do it again if that was what it took. He caught the paper and read it. "Looks like I've saved my neck this time. Thanks." The paper was stuffed into his pocket. "You've done more than you know." He moved his hat to the side and walked to the door. "Keep up the good work." He moved out the door and headed out. The El Camino was waiting outside. "Yo, we got the foo's name. We roll on this mutha fucka as soon as we know where he lives." Robert jumped into the car's passenger seat and the car sped off. reply

One Phone Call [23 Dec 2004|06:31pm] [ mood | pissed off ] Dominick had been demanding to see Kris all day, but thus far had been denied. Roger was anything but helpful. He wasn't sure of procedures, but unless Kris had actually been charged with something, he thought she should be allowed to see him. He didn't want to leave the station even for a moment. Finally he was given the use of a phone. He pulled out his wallet and dug in the pocket for Hayden's number. Finally finding it he pulled the phone into a far corner to allow himself some semblance of privacy and dialed the number. Hayden was fiddling with the battery connections under the hood of his Jeep. When his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, Hayden found a red rag and wiped his hands. He pulled it out and eyed the number with a curious expression. "Hello?" His hand shoved the rag into his hip pocket. "Hayden, it's Dominick." Dominick was trying to keep his voice low. He knew he sounded tense, but he couldn't help it. This was serious, and Hayden needed to know, as well as help. "I'm calling from the Las Vegas Police Department. They are holding Kris on murder. I'm not certain if they've actually pressed charges as of yet, but it's very serious." Hayden's expression was incredulous. "Wait, what?!" he demanded, his eyes seeking the end of the driveway but really seeing nothing. "What happened, is she okay?" Dominick sighed heavily and caught the eyes of the policeman guarding him. "I can't really talk now, Hayden. I haven't seen her since they brought us here. They have us isolated. They mentioned getting a search warrant and searching the house. Hayden," and his voice dropped to a whisper here, "there are things in there they should not see." Weapons, clothing, books, a virtual smorgasbord of things that could be perceived in a negative way for Kris. Hayden nodded, already on the same page as Dominick. "Is there a key?" he asked, knowing he would hide every goddamn thing in the house if it would help Kris. "In the backyard you'll find an orange flower pot mixed in with some green and brown pots. Underneath the orange pot is an extra key." Dominick rubbed his face with his hand. "We should probably look into getting her a lawyer. Is there anyone you know of that we can trust?" Hayden rubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead. Think. "I'll find someone," he replied with a firm tone. Hayden reached up to grab the hood and pull it back down. He was already thinking in fast-forward. He dug into his pocket for his car keys. "I'm going to your house right now. I'll hide everything at the bookshop." "Thanks. I'm sure it would help her to see you too, if the bastards will let you in." Dominick glared at the cop's back, not caring if he was overheard or not. "I'm sure they'll question you eventually." "The minute I'm finished at your place, I'm going to find someone that can help, and then I'll be there." Hayden pulled the driver's side door open and climbed inside. "I just hope they haven't gotten to her weapons first." Dominick cringed. "I have no idea if they got the warrant yet or not. It took forever for them to get me a phone, and that might be why. I'm sure they were stalling me." He glanced up as he saw Roger through the open door. "I should go. Do your best, Hayden, and then get here as soon as you can." "Alright." Hayden closed the phone and started the engine. He sped from the driveway, throwing gravel at the dumpster behind him. reply

[23 Dec 2004|09:20pm] Milly was in something like a hurry. She checked the contents sitting in a grocer's brown paperbag while looking animatedly around for her warmest coat. She got onto her hands and knees and spotted the gray peacoat shoved in the corner. She reached under her bed and groped for it. Devon stepped out of the bathroom. A towel around his neck and he tipped his head to one side as Milly appeared to be groping under her bed for something. He rubbed at his hair with his towel. He resisted the urge to pinch her bum as it wiggled back and forth but he was only human. Well technically anyways. What other kind of reaction would one expect? He settled for stopping on one side of her." Lost something?" ( Desert ) reply

Sleepers Wake. [23 Dec 2004|09:29pm] [ mood | mellow ] Matthew had moved from his bedroom mostly because he had caught himself crying and partly because he didn't want to disturb Jo. He had found his way into the bathroom. He was perched against the side of the sink. His feet rested against the ground. His eyes were shut and his fingers rested against the bridge of his nose. His eyes were red and slightly puffy. A clear sign he had been crying, his skin was pale and he felt like a zombie. He put the lack of energy down to the spell and the blow he had taken before he had past out but in all honesty, he was drained in all kinds of the word. Jo came awake more slowly than Matthew had, and she took a moment to stretch out. The realization that he wasn't in the bed any more prompted her to look over the edge and check the floor. Finding him no there, a half smile creased her face because that meant he was finally awake. She scooted out of the bed and headed for the bathroom, only to find the door most of the way closed. She tapped lightly and waited. ( Comfort and Discussion ) ( And Back To Sleep ) reply

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