RP LOG with loganthebrave & naysowee | Family issues
It was like a Mexican Stand-off. Logan sat on one side of his brother’s hospital bed staring hardly at the enigmatic Frenchman sitting in the same position on the other side, staring back just as intently. Logan had his elbows resting on his knees, and really had no shame in staring the guy out. So what if he was trying to figure him out with actually trying to talk to him? He was a Secret Intelligence Agent. Secretive shit was what he did, and if he didn’t feel like talk to the other guy yet, then he fucking was going to talk to him yet. And if having someone else in the room was bothering him, he certainly wasn’t going to let on to the fact. In fact, he kept his emotions schooled to complete blankness, so no Kindred senses were piqued without invitation. It wasn’t an easy skill to hone, remaining blank and calm, but Logan was highly trained to even cheat lie detector tests, so he had the ability to pull it off.
Between them, Rory lay unconscious and with his sedatives stopped that morning as promised, it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up. The thing was, these military fuckers had Rory restrained to the bed and Logan wasn’t happy at all about the fact. True, there was a Sergeant walking around with a borderline cracked skull, but the dude had outright admitted to provoking Rory to react like that. Logan was just trying to decide how he wanted to deal with this little fact. It was tempting to create a huge mess for all things cammo that walked the corridors of that facility, but Logan really didn’t want to bother with the paperwork. Not while Rory was seriously injured. He had settled for letting the undead sit across from him so he could study him. Logan soon pointed at Blaise, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “I think I’m going to blame you,” he decided bluntly.
“As you should,” Blaise replied passively. He, himself, was trying not to get frustrated by the lack of anything coming from Rory’s brother. The other Scot was evidently highly skilled and trained. The thing was, however, that Blaise felt no ill-will to him. Why would he? But of course there would be aggravation on the other man’s part because his brother was badly hurt. Blaise understood that, and he understood the brotherly protectiveness, even if there was estrangement there. The whole thing had him curious, but maybe not quite as curious as this Kindred signature he was detecting whenever Logan got close enough. In fact, Blaise would go so far as to say it was a Ventrue presence he was sensing. Logan himself wasn’t Kindred. The feeling was strong enough to suspect that, and he had been drinking from a bottle of water for hydration since being in the medical clinic, along with visiting the men’s room a few times. Things like that weren’t generally things Kindred resorted to for keeping up the facade unless they were being watched. There were a number of other things to pull off the act. “However, all I can offer is an apology. I wish I could have prevented this occurring. Your brother has not hurt anyone.”
Logan just went right back to staring at Blaise silently. As they spoke, his partner was busy logging into the mainframe to get as much information on Blaise Richelieu, Juliette Rousseau, Riley Finn, and Buffy Summers as was available. Logan was highly anticipating what might come up in the search. Also, considering Logan had knowledge of Kindred, maybe it would go without saying that his partner did also. The research wasn’t going to be isolated to just MI6 files. Deeper digging would be required, without a doubt. “Good for him. I cannae promise I’m going to be as accommodating,” he responded and was going to continue, but just like someone suddenly flicked a switch, Rory woke up abruptly. There was no groggy clawing to consciousness like in the movies, just one moment he was out and the next he was awake, turning his head to try and get his bearings. It was a little unnerving and Logan nearly crapped himself to suddenly be faced with the prospect of his brother awake, despite trying to internally prepare himself for this moment since he arrived here. But just like Logan expected, as soon as Rory realised he was restrained, he was pissed, pulling against the straps with a string of roughly growled expletives. With a small sigh of frustration, knowing this behaviour wasn’t going to do Rory’s case for being let free any good, Logan got up off the chair and stepped over into Rory’s line of sight. “Hey, bro... dinnae mean to get you when you’re all tied up, or anything,” he joked, even if he was looking down at Rory in concern. The anger, it was worse than Logan ever remembered. He might be an SIS Agent who had dealt with some of the scum of the earth, but seeing his own brother like this was upsetting.
Blaise watched stonily, remaining silent, but feeling something akin to guilt that Logan hadn’t been informed of the exact ins and outs of his brother’s condition. Far from it. In fact, no one had mentioned the near-Embrace, which would explain away most of Rory’s fury... if not all of it. It took all his effort not to relay the whole thing, but he wasn’t sure how either brother would take the information. It still remained to be seen how Rory would even react to seeing his brother at all. Instead, Blaise just stayed where he was. He wasn’t there to enflame the situation. Quite the opposite, in fact. If Rory’s behaviour didn’t ease off in any way, or even got worse, Blaise was going to have to make a drastic decision that could piss a lot of people off... most prominently, Juliette.
Rory thought he was dreaming at first. He hadn’t seen his brother in years, and how he was playing happy families at his hospital bedside? To the fuck with that. If it was a dream, it was a fucking awful one. The only thing was, Rory never really felt any anger or bad feelings towards his brother until now, and now they were all there with a vengeance. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but maybe he didn’t give a flying fuck either. He pulled against the restraints again, roughly trying to get free and growling when he realised it was an impossibility. What the fuck was going on here? The fucking dipshit of an ex of Buffy’s was asking to be belted, anyway. “And there I was feckin’ thinkin’ you were dead,” he finally said with a hint of a sneer, even if the words were coming out a little on the slurred side. Everything was clearer in his mind, yet physically, he still seemed to be ailing. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas too. I missed your call last year, bro.”
Logan bit down on the inside of his lip and averted his eyes briefly. He had no idea how Rory managed to pick two comments that seemed to stab directly at all of Logan’s sensitive spots, but they did. Despite the fact it would probably piss the cammoed wankers off, he began to succinctly loosen Rory’s restraints. He didn’t care, he just couldn’t handle his brother being strapped up like some sort of lost cause mental patient. If this was all he could do to help, so be it. He had to placate his raging guilt somehow. “You could have picked up a phone too, mate,” he pointed out quietly and slipped the restraint straps from around Rory’s arms, freeing him.
“If I pick up a fuckin’ phone, I’ll stick it up it so far up your arse you’ll be able to call fuckin’ Lifeline with your sphincter.” Rory aggressively shoved the rest of the straps away from him and they clattered loudly to the floor. Once again, he was awkwardly pulling himself up to sit on the side of the bed, but when Logan reflexively tried to help him, Rory grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me,” he warned and then gave Logan a rough push to get him out of his personal space. This was all a fucking joke. It wasn’t like the fucking arsehole deserved to get his head slammed into a wall. Hopefully it had knocked some freaking sense into him.
Logan wanted to throw up. He had never been on the receiving end of anything like this from Rory. He pressed his lips together and rested a hand on his hip. For some reason, he suddenly just felt extremely exhausted. There was all his venom spewing out of Rory’s mouth, yet physically, he looked bruised and broken. His eyes were cold, yet they were hardly able to focus on Logan’s face, and he was in obvious amounts of pain. The only thing was, Logan wasn’t sure if Rory was feeling the pain. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was like there was some sort of mental block there. Sitting up with these injuries, he should be in agony, but he just wasn’t. “Well, obviously I’m nay the welcome team you want, maybe his lover might have a better chance?” he suggested, glancing at Blaise over Rory’s shoulder. The other man, who had been silent through the whole exchange, didn’t even respond. He merely exited the room and Logan had an urge to run after him and give him a good smack just for being a prick. In fact, he wanted to give his brother a good smack for exactly the same reason, but apparently that was what earned the Sergeant a skull meets wall moment.
“You can get the fuck oot of my face now!” Rory suddenly snapped at his brother with a deep frown on his face. “I havenae got a single fuckin’ thing to say to you! Nay now, nay ever! I got your fuckin’ message loud and clear! You can all go to fuckin’ hell for all I care! I dinnae even mind know you’re a fuckin’ figment of my screwed up imagination or what, but seriously, get. the. fuck. out. of. my. face. I’m better off on my fuckin’ own. On your way out, if you bump into a wee blond makin’ eyes at a mysterious fucker in Armani, stop and have a good hard bang of her. Everyone else has,” he added with a satisfied smirk.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Logan mumbled to himself, looking at Rory in disbelief. It was like he was possessed, and it was scaring the shit out of Logan. He kept his distance, still feeling sick. All he wanted was to know his brother was okay, but he definitely wasn’t okay. He had been attacked and seriously injured, but what the hell was this? Had he been drugged? Were these side effects? Had his brother been diagnosed with a mental illness that his family were never alerted to? Rubbing his fingers over his lips, Logan realised that was actually a painful possibility. Their family probably wouldn’t have been alerted if something like that had happened, but there had been no mention of a mental illness from the military in charge of this operation. There hadn’t even been elaboration on why Rory was even here beyond some sort of hostile attackers? What the hell? Suddenly the lack of information had Logan frustrated to the max and all he wanted to do was burst into tears like a kid who had just been chewed out by a teacher in front of the whole class.
Word Count | 1,954
Between them, Rory lay unconscious and with his sedatives stopped that morning as promised, it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up. The thing was, these military fuckers had Rory restrained to the bed and Logan wasn’t happy at all about the fact. True, there was a Sergeant walking around with a borderline cracked skull, but the dude had outright admitted to provoking Rory to react like that. Logan was just trying to decide how he wanted to deal with this little fact. It was tempting to create a huge mess for all things cammo that walked the corridors of that facility, but Logan really didn’t want to bother with the paperwork. Not while Rory was seriously injured. He had settled for letting the undead sit across from him so he could study him. Logan soon pointed at Blaise, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “I think I’m going to blame you,” he decided bluntly.
“As you should,” Blaise replied passively. He, himself, was trying not to get frustrated by the lack of anything coming from Rory’s brother. The other Scot was evidently highly skilled and trained. The thing was, however, that Blaise felt no ill-will to him. Why would he? But of course there would be aggravation on the other man’s part because his brother was badly hurt. Blaise understood that, and he understood the brotherly protectiveness, even if there was estrangement there. The whole thing had him curious, but maybe not quite as curious as this Kindred signature he was detecting whenever Logan got close enough. In fact, Blaise would go so far as to say it was a Ventrue presence he was sensing. Logan himself wasn’t Kindred. The feeling was strong enough to suspect that, and he had been drinking from a bottle of water for hydration since being in the medical clinic, along with visiting the men’s room a few times. Things like that weren’t generally things Kindred resorted to for keeping up the facade unless they were being watched. There were a number of other things to pull off the act. “However, all I can offer is an apology. I wish I could have prevented this occurring. Your brother has not hurt anyone.”
Logan just went right back to staring at Blaise silently. As they spoke, his partner was busy logging into the mainframe to get as much information on Blaise Richelieu, Juliette Rousseau, Riley Finn, and Buffy Summers as was available. Logan was highly anticipating what might come up in the search. Also, considering Logan had knowledge of Kindred, maybe it would go without saying that his partner did also. The research wasn’t going to be isolated to just MI6 files. Deeper digging would be required, without a doubt. “Good for him. I cannae promise I’m going to be as accommodating,” he responded and was going to continue, but just like someone suddenly flicked a switch, Rory woke up abruptly. There was no groggy clawing to consciousness like in the movies, just one moment he was out and the next he was awake, turning his head to try and get his bearings. It was a little unnerving and Logan nearly crapped himself to suddenly be faced with the prospect of his brother awake, despite trying to internally prepare himself for this moment since he arrived here. But just like Logan expected, as soon as Rory realised he was restrained, he was pissed, pulling against the straps with a string of roughly growled expletives. With a small sigh of frustration, knowing this behaviour wasn’t going to do Rory’s case for being let free any good, Logan got up off the chair and stepped over into Rory’s line of sight. “Hey, bro... dinnae mean to get you when you’re all tied up, or anything,” he joked, even if he was looking down at Rory in concern. The anger, it was worse than Logan ever remembered. He might be an SIS Agent who had dealt with some of the scum of the earth, but seeing his own brother like this was upsetting.
Blaise watched stonily, remaining silent, but feeling something akin to guilt that Logan hadn’t been informed of the exact ins and outs of his brother’s condition. Far from it. In fact, no one had mentioned the near-Embrace, which would explain away most of Rory’s fury... if not all of it. It took all his effort not to relay the whole thing, but he wasn’t sure how either brother would take the information. It still remained to be seen how Rory would even react to seeing his brother at all. Instead, Blaise just stayed where he was. He wasn’t there to enflame the situation. Quite the opposite, in fact. If Rory’s behaviour didn’t ease off in any way, or even got worse, Blaise was going to have to make a drastic decision that could piss a lot of people off... most prominently, Juliette.
Rory thought he was dreaming at first. He hadn’t seen his brother in years, and how he was playing happy families at his hospital bedside? To the fuck with that. If it was a dream, it was a fucking awful one. The only thing was, Rory never really felt any anger or bad feelings towards his brother until now, and now they were all there with a vengeance. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but maybe he didn’t give a flying fuck either. He pulled against the restraints again, roughly trying to get free and growling when he realised it was an impossibility. What the fuck was going on here? The fucking dipshit of an ex of Buffy’s was asking to be belted, anyway. “And there I was feckin’ thinkin’ you were dead,” he finally said with a hint of a sneer, even if the words were coming out a little on the slurred side. Everything was clearer in his mind, yet physically, he still seemed to be ailing. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas too. I missed your call last year, bro.”
Logan bit down on the inside of his lip and averted his eyes briefly. He had no idea how Rory managed to pick two comments that seemed to stab directly at all of Logan’s sensitive spots, but they did. Despite the fact it would probably piss the cammoed wankers off, he began to succinctly loosen Rory’s restraints. He didn’t care, he just couldn’t handle his brother being strapped up like some sort of lost cause mental patient. If this was all he could do to help, so be it. He had to placate his raging guilt somehow. “You could have picked up a phone too, mate,” he pointed out quietly and slipped the restraint straps from around Rory’s arms, freeing him.
“If I pick up a fuckin’ phone, I’ll stick it up it so far up your arse you’ll be able to call fuckin’ Lifeline with your sphincter.” Rory aggressively shoved the rest of the straps away from him and they clattered loudly to the floor. Once again, he was awkwardly pulling himself up to sit on the side of the bed, but when Logan reflexively tried to help him, Rory grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me,” he warned and then gave Logan a rough push to get him out of his personal space. This was all a fucking joke. It wasn’t like the fucking arsehole deserved to get his head slammed into a wall. Hopefully it had knocked some freaking sense into him.
Logan wanted to throw up. He had never been on the receiving end of anything like this from Rory. He pressed his lips together and rested a hand on his hip. For some reason, he suddenly just felt extremely exhausted. There was all his venom spewing out of Rory’s mouth, yet physically, he looked bruised and broken. His eyes were cold, yet they were hardly able to focus on Logan’s face, and he was in obvious amounts of pain. The only thing was, Logan wasn’t sure if Rory was feeling the pain. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was like there was some sort of mental block there. Sitting up with these injuries, he should be in agony, but he just wasn’t. “Well, obviously I’m nay the welcome team you want, maybe his lover might have a better chance?” he suggested, glancing at Blaise over Rory’s shoulder. The other man, who had been silent through the whole exchange, didn’t even respond. He merely exited the room and Logan had an urge to run after him and give him a good smack just for being a prick. In fact, he wanted to give his brother a good smack for exactly the same reason, but apparently that was what earned the Sergeant a skull meets wall moment.
“You can get the fuck oot of my face now!” Rory suddenly snapped at his brother with a deep frown on his face. “I havenae got a single fuckin’ thing to say to you! Nay now, nay ever! I got your fuckin’ message loud and clear! You can all go to fuckin’ hell for all I care! I dinnae even mind know you’re a fuckin’ figment of my screwed up imagination or what, but seriously, get. the. fuck. out. of. my. face. I’m better off on my fuckin’ own. On your way out, if you bump into a wee blond makin’ eyes at a mysterious fucker in Armani, stop and have a good hard bang of her. Everyone else has,” he added with a satisfied smirk.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Logan mumbled to himself, looking at Rory in disbelief. It was like he was possessed, and it was scaring the shit out of Logan. He kept his distance, still feeling sick. All he wanted was to know his brother was okay, but he definitely wasn’t okay. He had been attacked and seriously injured, but what the hell was this? Had he been drugged? Were these side effects? Had his brother been diagnosed with a mental illness that his family were never alerted to? Rubbing his fingers over his lips, Logan realised that was actually a painful possibility. Their family probably wouldn’t have been alerted if something like that had happened, but there had been no mention of a mental illness from the military in charge of this operation. There hadn’t even been elaboration on why Rory was even here beyond some sort of hostile attackers? What the hell? Suddenly the lack of information had Logan frustrated to the max and all he wanted to do was burst into tears like a kid who had just been chewed out by a teacher in front of the whole class.
Word Count | 1,954