In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream

[ozsaur]

It's time for another Oz Drabble Tree! This is our 6th drabble tree! If you're new to this, check out: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble Tree That Could, Are You There God? It's Oz Drabble Tree and Oz Drabble Tree Knows Best

Comments

"sofa", 200

[natlet]

Tim's asking for trouble, Sean thinks, having that goddamn thing in his office. It's too accommodating, too inviting; come in, sit down, stay a while. Tim had bitched about the old one constantly, used to run his mouth for hours about how sometimes he felt like his office was the break room, open to anyone who'd wandered in. But it's the first thing Tim brings back in, once the bio-terrorism guys get the building cleared.

"You sure?" Sean asks, eyeing the sofa, still breathing a little heavy. Tim should have accepted it when his old one got tossed during clean-up, taken it as a sign and moved on. "You don't think it's too -" fucking tempting "- informal?" Though maybe, he thinks, he should have asked that before they hauled it through the mostly-empty prison and up the stairs. "You're gonna have half the staff in this place hangin' out up here, drinking your coffee, getting in your way."

Tim gives him a sideways little grin and says, "It's not for hanging out, exactly."

Oh.

For a long couple seconds, all Sean can do is blink at him; then he thinks, well, it's not like anyone's here right now but us, anyway.

moved on, 100

[cmk418]

Richie Hanlon strode back into Emerald City with the walk of a free man. He’d moved on, away from the feeling of impending doom that life on death row brought on a daily basis. Heads turned, whispering his name. He glanced around, recognized a few faces, and smiled remembering that Mark Mack wouldn’t be around to harass him anymore. A devilishly attractive man bowed in greeting. Maybe later, honey,. He set his belongings in his cell, laying them out carefully. His transition was almost complete. The only thing left was to cleanse himself of any remaining traces of death row.

"glanced around", 100 words

[severina2001]

Eight days. Eight days since Chris had touched him, kissed him, ripped him apart and made him whole again all at the same time. Eight days of re-imagining the moment, eliminating the meddlesome hacks, letting himself remember the taste of Chris on his lips without that initial bolt of stunned surprise at how good it felt. How right.

Toby glanced around furtively, made sure no one was nearby before he took a healthy swig. The whiskey burned going down, did nothing to ease the constant ache in his gut. He licked his lips, savouring the taste. Savoured the memories more.

"taken it as a sign", 100 words

[severina2001]

Toby isn’t quite sure what made him destroy his glasses -- he hadn’t been quite sane at the time -- but since then he’s taken it as a sign that he’s meant to see the world this way. Not exactly fuzzy, but with edges and angles smoothed over, like the results of the soft focus lenses they use on aging actresses.

Strangely, he sees everything a lot more clearly now, including himself.

The rage simmers inside him like something alive, and when he sees Vern in the gym he lets it boil over. Taking a crap has never felt so fucking… satisfying.