| Laundry Day |
[08 Sep 2006|02:28pm] |
The Watcher’s gaze never left the dryer, absently watching the newly-clean clothes tumbling and spinning. It was the very definition of monotony.
But it was still better than what Corbett had been doing, which was to say nothing—unless one counted sitting alone in his apartment, smoking pack after pack of cigarettes. It was pretty much all he’d done since Kris left, the result of a conversation that didn’t go nearly as well as the Watcher would’ve hoped.
Granted, that had been his fault; in hindsight, mentioning Faith’s offer wasn’t the best of ideas, and Corbett was left dealing with the guilt and the knowledge he’d driven the final stake in the heart of his partnership with the Slayer. Kris was undoubtedly on her way back home by now, and Corbett found himself sick with guilt and dread.
Not to mention the laundry. The Watcher’s clothes, as well as the kind he could never seem to get clean.
( The bleeding moron is so hard on himself )
With that, Corbett turned and left, pausing once he was through the door to light his cigarette. Nicotine and alcohol were his best friends right now, but Corbett figured he’d give the bottle a night off. If he was really going to try and cash in his third chance with Faith, Corbett didn’t need to be all liquored-up.
Though he did need some courage. Maybe a drink or two wouldn’t hurt, after all.
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