Not Quite Out of Dodge [completed]
Character(s): Vyers and Laharl
Content: Shortly after being interrogated, Vyers is interrogated. And most likely punched.
Setting: Vyers' place
Time: Sometime after Timon and co. leaves in this thread.
Warnings: Probable mild violence
The only sounds that could be heard coming from Vyers' room were the rapid clack of keys and the frustrated mutterings that accompanied them. Shortly after Timon had left the room, Vyers had pulled out his journal and began to type--or attempt to type--out something to say to Laharl. Every try usually ended in the entire thing being deleted in a fit of frustration or else as a result of the demon's doubts in the journals being the place to put his confession.
Even so, he still tried, and occasionally switched to the voice function, deciding that it would be easier to show Laharl rather than tell, but even that ended poorly, as he was unable to come up with anything to say. After an hour, there was only a paragraph at most on the screen, a paragraph whose writer stared at with tired, scrutinizing eyes. He understood why it was difficult, but did it have to be so much so?
Content: Shortly after being interrogated, Vyers is interrogated. And most likely punched.
Setting: Vyers' place
Time: Sometime after Timon and co. leaves in this thread.
Warnings: Probable mild violence
The only sounds that could be heard coming from Vyers' room were the rapid clack of keys and the frustrated mutterings that accompanied them. Shortly after Timon had left the room, Vyers had pulled out his journal and began to type--or attempt to type--out something to say to Laharl. Every try usually ended in the entire thing being deleted in a fit of frustration or else as a result of the demon's doubts in the journals being the place to put his confession.
Even so, he still tried, and occasionally switched to the voice function, deciding that it would be easier to show Laharl rather than tell, but even that ended poorly, as he was unable to come up with anything to say. After an hour, there was only a paragraph at most on the screen, a paragraph whose writer stared at with tired, scrutinizing eyes. He understood why it was difficult, but did it have to be so much so?