it's kind of a funny story
Characters: Alex Summers, Ben Westwood
Date&Time: August 22
Setting: the pen, man, the pen
Summary: fml.
Rating: tbd. Anything risque is purely due to a series of unfortunate events.
Status: open to Alex.
This was exactly why cats were the axis of all evil.
From the bench inside the crowded cell, there were exactly seven visible people who could probably kill him without blinking an eye. Two of them were women and one of them was a kid not much older than him who looked like he'd escaped from an insane asylum that housed aspiring clowns. Ben Westwood shuddered and hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself look as small and unthreatening as possible. Hopefully he could avoid unwanted attention and just sort of blend into the background. It was easier said than done, considering he'd lost his shirt somewhere along the way, appeared to have fought with a briar patch and come out on the losing side, and was covered in silver glitter from top to toe. A purple feather waved gaily from the depths of his wild, dark hair and his feet - bare, of course, because again: cats were agents of the devil - looked suspiciously like they'd been used for a modern art project, dotted with a stunning display of paint in the colours of a Brazilian parade. The clown kid kept looking at them with a keen interest that made Ben worry. Deeply.
So it was with incredible relief that he noted the arrival of a uniformed officer. "Time for your phone call, kid," the policeman drawled, looking at Ben.
"Oh, thank God."
He didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in his entire life.
The laws of the universe were clearly operating on a scale of balance, taking into consideration the luck he'd had all day and finally feeding him something that resembled good. When the connection went through, it was Raven on the other end of the line to greet him and Ben sent up a silent word of thanks before politely, but urgently, asking for the only person that he trusted would know how to deal with this situation in the proper manner. As soon as he heard the familiar voice come on, Ben sagged against the wall in relief, reciever clutched against his ear.
"Alex? It's me," the boy laughed half-heartedly and raked a hand through his hair. "You're never going to guess where I am. Listen, I need you to come pick me up," Ben glanced over his shoulder and Clown Boy was making grabby hands through the bars of the cell, his face strained as he presumably tried to contort through the tiny gap. Ben swallowed anxiously. "...and could you bring me a shirt and shoes?"
Date&Time: August 22
Setting: the pen, man, the pen
Summary: fml.
Rating: tbd. Anything risque is purely due to a series of unfortunate events.
Status: open to Alex.
This was exactly why cats were the axis of all evil.
From the bench inside the crowded cell, there were exactly seven visible people who could probably kill him without blinking an eye. Two of them were women and one of them was a kid not much older than him who looked like he'd escaped from an insane asylum that housed aspiring clowns. Ben Westwood shuddered and hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself look as small and unthreatening as possible. Hopefully he could avoid unwanted attention and just sort of blend into the background. It was easier said than done, considering he'd lost his shirt somewhere along the way, appeared to have fought with a briar patch and come out on the losing side, and was covered in silver glitter from top to toe. A purple feather waved gaily from the depths of his wild, dark hair and his feet - bare, of course, because again: cats were agents of the devil - looked suspiciously like they'd been used for a modern art project, dotted with a stunning display of paint in the colours of a Brazilian parade. The clown kid kept looking at them with a keen interest that made Ben worry. Deeply.
So it was with incredible relief that he noted the arrival of a uniformed officer. "Time for your phone call, kid," the policeman drawled, looking at Ben.
"Oh, thank God."
He didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in his entire life.
The laws of the universe were clearly operating on a scale of balance, taking into consideration the luck he'd had all day and finally feeding him something that resembled good. When the connection went through, it was Raven on the other end of the line to greet him and Ben sent up a silent word of thanks before politely, but urgently, asking for the only person that he trusted would know how to deal with this situation in the proper manner. As soon as he heard the familiar voice come on, Ben sagged against the wall in relief, reciever clutched against his ear.
"Alex? It's me," the boy laughed half-heartedly and raked a hand through his hair. "You're never going to guess where I am. Listen, I need you to come pick me up," Ben glanced over his shoulder and Clown Boy was making grabby hands through the bars of the cell, his face strained as he presumably tried to contort through the tiny gap. Ben swallowed anxiously. "...and could you bring me a shirt and shoes?"