Characters: Vimes (
stonyfaced) and Genius (
man-geniusDate/Time: BACKDATED to April 26th, early morning
Location: The Bazaar
Rating: PG-13 for presumed mention of both Genius' and Vimes' grisly dreams
Summary: Vimes gives up on sleep after having two nightmares and decides to walk around, whereas Genius goes out for some comforting starches. Cue an early morning
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He put some coins down on the table and nodded at the man who manned the booth. "The usual for me, except make it stronger," he said, then jerked his thumb in Genius' direction. "Get a coffee for him too, but I figure he'll like it less strong than I do."
Upon his second glance, Genius really did look like hell, but then again, so did he. There was a reason he kept a washbasin and a cut-throat razor in his office other than the fact that people tended to think twice before threatening his position when they noticed it lying on his desk ( ... )
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"Gah! Oh." It took a moment for his brain to kick in. "...Thanks." He shuffled over to the counter, one hand scrubbing furiously as his eyes to wake himself up. Coffee. He wasn't really much of a coffee man, but he drank it out of sheer necessity. Not even a can of Jolt could wake him up the way coffee did, even if he did have to drown it in sugar and cream first.
He really didn't know what else to say, knowing that there was a very strong chance this man knew the reason why he was up so early. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do this morning, damnit. But he was beyond railing against the unfairness of fate and simply accepted the inevitable with a quiet sip.
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Genius did NOT appreciate Yogurt Parfait things. He preferred his breakfasts sugary and/or dripping with fat, depending on his mood. Chocolate Chip Pancakes if he was happy. Eggs, bacon and tater tots for his off days. He didn't do 'good for you' food which made him being a doctor all the more hilarious.
On the whole, Genius was unaware of the scrutiny, because was too busy putting coffee in his sugar. He was also trying to deny the hell out of the conversation he was pretty sure they were going to have. So when Vimes finally asked him a question, he debated lying and making excuses to wander off. But that, required having the energy to lie. He wasn't a natural liar. It took effort. Effort he did not have.
"Couldn't sleep," he finally admitted with a sigh. "'Nd didn't want to wake Rick up pacing the halls or something."
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He lit a cigar and blew his customary first smoke ring of the day. That was the stuff. Years ago, after a night like that, he probably would have reached for the hair of the dog instead. only it wouldn't be called hair of the dog on account of the fact that he wouldn't have stopped drinking long enough to get a hangover ( ... )
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He felt a little guilty when the older man's face twisted up at hearing about his dream. "Pretty much." He looked into his coffee. "It's clearly not fine so don't bother trying. I met that guy in your dream. But I never met his sister. I...it's good to see that you remember them."
Remember Me. Even months later, Evil Ben's dying command to Genius still echoed in his mind. Remember the forgotten. Sear them into your mind and only there, for no where else is safe. He probably understood Vimes' dream better than anyone would think ( ... )
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He remembered everyone who left. So did the others, he figured. Bastet, Justice, Sky... they were the old ones. He wondered how many they knew he didn't. Or how many he knew that they didn't. Too many, he knew, from the books upon books in the musty old library. He hadn't visited it lately. There was always an excuse, he knew--he had to tend to the books, there were new recruits. There was always an excuse. In truth, he fell out of the habit when he adopted Blood, not wanting to go down the path of death like Ghost did, and didn't pick it back up again. It was hard being there when he knew that each book represented a person gone forgotten. It was like being in a room full of empty lifetimers ( ... )
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