[ I need a fix 'cause I'm going down ] [ closed log ]
WHO: honorindeath and lady_fister
WHERE: The former home of the Fister Family.
WHEN: After Jason's post on what's left of the Joker.
WARNINGS: How do two old Fists deal with their feelings? Not well.
SUMMARY: Orson, why are you such a bitch? Don't you have friends? Oh, right, they're dead.
FORMAT: Whatever the lady desires
There wasn't much left of the apartment, but they still went through everything. There was tape in the way---police tape, warding off the rooms like they really could keep out all the peering eyes and curious heroes who might try to see where the goldenboy Rand had punched his ticket. Orson walked around the tape, stepping over it, but Wu pulled it all down almost wrathfully, balling it up in her callused fists. It's our home, she'd said, and he didn't have the energy to explain that it stopped being their home the minute it exploded.
He itched for a smoke. He'd even settle for a goddamn spliff---anything to ease up the way his jaw was clenched, teeth ground together as he kept himself centered and as calm as possible.
There was blood on the floor. Over the counter in a wide splash, dried in abstract patterns.
He stood in the spot where Danny had fallen and tried to breathe through his clenched jaws. Needed a smoke. Needed to keep breathing. Goddamn Danny.
Goddamn him.
WHERE: The former home of the Fister Family.
WHEN: After Jason's post on what's left of the Joker.
WARNINGS: How do two old Fists deal with their feelings? Not well.
SUMMARY: Orson, why are you such a bitch? Don't you have friends? Oh, right, they're dead.
FORMAT: Whatever the lady desires
There wasn't much left of the apartment, but they still went through everything. There was tape in the way---police tape, warding off the rooms like they really could keep out all the peering eyes and curious heroes who might try to see where the goldenboy Rand had punched his ticket. Orson walked around the tape, stepping over it, but Wu pulled it all down almost wrathfully, balling it up in her callused fists. It's our home, she'd said, and he didn't have the energy to explain that it stopped being their home the minute it exploded.
He itched for a smoke. He'd even settle for a goddamn spliff---anything to ease up the way his jaw was clenched, teeth ground together as he kept himself centered and as calm as possible.
There was blood on the floor. Over the counter in a wide splash, dried in abstract patterns.
He stood in the spot where Danny had fallen and tried to breathe through his clenched jaws. Needed a smoke. Needed to keep breathing. Goddamn Danny.
Goddamn him.