It's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball...

[nothingsodivine]

[OOC: Rizzy and I have apparently decided to finish off this night of trauma with a plot we've been cooking up for weeks now, thus concluding this in-game night of ANGST. Good for us. We're evil bitches and don't you just love us for it?]

Desmond Descant is about as depressed as a man who has lived a few thousand years more than he should can be

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[smithnjones]

At reading the journal and finding that Calisto had written about it in the least tactful manner possible, Martha had temporarily abandoned Ripley to finish taking care of things and headed straight back for the hotel.

She'd be driving the limo, but it's still covered in blood. White angel blood, but blood, nonetheless. So she's shaking, with her hand over her gun, dressed in the same clothes she'd be in so she has angel blood and her own blood stained on her arm, hurrying down the street when she spots him.

Even in her state, Martha is aware of her surroundings. "Des?"

It looks like him. The expression is his, but the last time she ran into him- well, it was actually Jack.

[nothingsodivine]

He jerks his head in her direction, a little twinge of relief washing over him and it keeps him from muttering the Were you expecting someone else? that catches in his throat.

He doesn't know that the Jack in the hotel isn't her Jack, after all, and he's just jealous and feeling useless enough to think she'd abandon him for him. At his most emotional, Des is also at his most stupid.

He bridges the gap when he sees her and she gets a tight hug at random, because he wants to make sure she's here. "I heard about Brando," he manages to say. "God, I'm so sorry."

That got him so far with Becky, but he can't help it. He really is sorry. For a lot of things.

Including himself.

[smithnjones]

Martha hugs him, just as tight, when she gets over the shock of seeing him here.

"Yes. I read that." She's still angry about finding it there. Most of her emotions, however, are on a haze just behind the incredible amounts of exhaustion.

She shakes her head against him. The words, 'it's alright' get stuck in her throat, because the words aren't true. It isn't alright. It's just what people say when someone says they're sorry.

Martha pulls her face away enough to look up at him. "What are you doing out here?"

Sure, he's armed, but she recognizes that frightening, dangerous look on his face. She's seen it in the Doctor before. And it's the worst time for either of them to be wandering the streets on their own.

[nothingsodivine]

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he actually heard it from an emotionally volatile Becky whom he almost convinced that the whole journal thing was a hoax, which might have a lot to do with... A lot of things.

He kinda backs away from her when she asks that question and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down on his feet. "Needed some air," he lies and doesn't feel as bad about it as he should. "Wanted to make sure you were okay."

In his defense, he left before she made that journal entry, but even if he had seen it, it wouldn't have stopped him.