[RP] We're not questioning God, just those he chose to carry on His cross.

[sarkraticmethod]

[[OOC: Backdated to right after the Silent Hall thread, circa two months ago.]]

Sark wouldn't admit it to anyone, but April's journal entry announcing the return of one Jack Harkness or John Thane or whoever the hell he was today set him so far on edge that it took every iota of control that he had within him to keep from turning into something and

Comments

[superiorspectre]

Oh, there's a member of Torchwood about to run into him...

Suzie happens to be making a beeline for her room. In her bra, covered in gauze and burn ointment, vivid black and purple bruises peeking out over the gauze at her throat, the dark circles under her eyes standing out in stark relief against paler-than-usual skin...

One might say she's had a bad day.

One might also say she's about to break.

But then, that doesn't matter, as long as she can reach her room. Her jaw's set, arms tight to her body, fists clenched, but she hasn't broken yet, and if she can just get there without running into anyone, she won't break where anyone can see her. That's what matters.

[sarkraticmethod]

...Not the member of Torchwood he was planning to accost, even if she'd be more likely to speak with him then, well, most people. Although with Suzie 'accost' wouldn't be the proper word anyway, and..

Oh... Well, fuck, that looks bad on so many levels.

At first he doesn't think to say anything, ponders just letting her run, because dealing with other people's emotions? Not Sark's strongest suit, but Suzie was there at his weaker moments and even as he moves closer to the wall in case she doesn't see him and just needs to get past, he grimaces and calls, "Suzie."

If she wants to get the hell out of here and not respond, then she can go and he won't stop her, but if she needs someone... Well, chances are he's not the best person, but he'll damn well try. No one can ever say that Julian Sark doesn't return favors.

[superiorspectre]

Suzie jumps slightly when Sark addresses her, looking startled -- not like her, not like her at all, and she considers whether she should've taken the offered sedatives when they patched her up...

But then, sedation was a loss of control she couldn't afford, not until she was in a more controlled environment. Too much time spent trying to prove her stability to all and sundry, and she wasn't about to let it go now.

"...Sorry," she manages at last, her voice still slightly hoarse. "I was just..." There's no way she can finish that sentence, and her attempt at a smile amounts to little more than an upward jerk of the corners of her lips, lips and jaw both tight enough that one might think she was trying to freeze that one abortive movement in place. "Obvious what kind of day I've had, isn't it?"

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark gets a good look at her now that she's actually stopped. To say she looked like hell would be a most grevious of understatements