Tim was coming up from the lower levels, laundry in motion, to head for the kitchen and get some tea. He smiled when he saw Jim in a passing way, then stopped and pulled a double take.
He spun around when he heard someone speak (the movement would have looked fucking cool in slow motion), lifting his gun immediately at whoever was talking. He was getting fucking answers, and he was getting them right now.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, the gun still trained on him. Dude sounded like Rupert, but he definitely didn't look like he rolled with him.
Jesus fucking Christ, this guy was as useless as the jackasses in the bank. All the hemming and hawing wasn't doing him any fucking good, but for all he knew this guy was the cause of whatever the fuck was happening, so he kept it pointed right at him.
"I asked you a fucking question," he said. "Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?"
"It's a fucking corridor," said Beth, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of tea and a paper dated 1988. In 1988, Beth had been ten years old. She didn't remember what was happening in the world.
He definitely wasn't expecting some chick to sneak up on him. The reaction was immediate; he'd deal with her like he dealt with the bank people until he figured out what the hell was going on.
He lifted the gun at her, holding it like fucking Al Pacino or something, and really, if he didn't have the fucking pantyhose still on his head he knew he probably would have looked really intimidating. "What the shit are you talking about, new? I'm not fucking around, lady. What's going on here?"
Now, a normal person might be scared of having a fun pointed in their face. A normal person might, but Beth...Beth's been down in the dark, afraid and alone, and she's choked on her own blood and she's begged, begged her best friend, the one who she loved most in the world, to kill her. Beth's stomach fluttered, but she didn't move. She just stared at him, past the gun.
"You're not where you fucking think you are and if you don't stop point that fucking thing at me, I'm going to break your fucking arm."
Or I'll scream and Sarah'll put an ice pick through your fucking neck and, believe me, mate, that fucking hurts.
That response wasn't what he was expecting. People shut the fuck up when they had guns pointed at them, unless they had weapons too. That was how it worked. From what he saw, the chick looked like a fucking normal one, nothing out of the fucking ordinary, but at the same time the way she was looking at her kind of made him not want to mess around with her.
Plus, she was kind of hot. Shit, hotter than that teller in the bank, anyway.
He lowered the weapon slightly.
"I don't know where the fuck I am period, lady," he said. After a moment of thought, he decided to take another approach, and his face softened. Fucking award winning acting right there. "Look, I don't want to have to shoot you. Just tell me where the hell we are and how the hell I can get out of here."
This kept happening to me. New people. Does the cosmos just think I'm good at welcoming people or something? Because in my opinion, I'm pretty far from it. At least this guy looked lively.
I'd been in the kitchen looking for some ice cream, but it was just my luck that the one day I was totally jonesing for some was a day there wasn't any made. Guess that's what I got for not partaking last time we had some.
Anyway. I'd grabbed a cookie instead (SO not the same, for the record) and was standing in the kitchen doorway peering out at this lively new guy. Because oh, he was definitely new.
"Good question," I answered, and took a bite of my cookie.
What the fuck was with this place? Outta no where some chick walks out of the room in front of him instead of the dude he was expecting brought him to...wherever the fuck he was. She was acting like it was completely normal that he was there, and that confused the hell out of him too. Either way, she looked like he could handle her in the same way as he handled them, so he pointed his gun straight at her. He didn't like scaring chicks, but it wasn't like he was really going to shoot her.
"Stand right where you are, lady," he said, his eyes narrowing. He pulled off the fucking pantyhose off his head, letting his sunglasses drop back in front of his eyes.
There. Now he finally looked as badass as he wanted to look. Fucking Rupert.
I guess it's a 'used to be dead' thing, but the gun didn't impress me all that much. My eyes widened a little, but that was really just because I couldn't believe this guy thought he was going to shoot me for standing there eating a cookie. I chalked it up to him being traumatized.
"Are you trying to rob me?" I asked, brows arching, because if he wanted the cookie that badly, he could have it. "Or do you always have conversations with people at gun point? Because see, my rules are, if you want me to answer your questions, you can't be threatening to kill me." New rule, I just made it up right then. I thought it sounded kinda cool. Like I was in charge.
The chick was giving him lip. It had been so fucking easy to get everyone in the bank to do what he wanted, and the fact she was telling him what to do threw him off completely. Fuck, everything was so messed up.
It wasn't like Gideon actually wanted to go around shooting people, much less some random girl who wasn't pointing a gun back at him. Helped she was cute, too. Maybe he'd try the nice way. That worked in the movies, too.
"Did I say I was robbing you?" he asked, lowering his weapon enough to make it not very threatening. He wasn't willing to put it away just yet, but that was just because he wasn't a fucking moron. He was in some strange as fuck place and he didn't feel like dying.
If he hadn't died already.
"Fine. Weapon's down. Where the fuck am I?" he asked, trying to sound just a little nicer about it without acting too much like he was rolling over for her. He didn't want to look like he didn't still have control of the situation, after all.
I'm heading in from a morning climb- laundry and a shower, I think, with all the dirt I've smudged on my clothing and most of my available skin- when I hear what can only be described as a disgruntled tone down the hall. I lift an eyebrow, pushing my sunglasses up onto my head and starting to tug off my fingerless gloves.
"What is what?" I ask, not out of concern, but out of curiosity.
There's a whole lot of people Gideon expects to see. When he turns around and fucking Angelina Jolie is just walking down the fucking hallway, he realizes he's either having the most fucked up, awesome dream ever or he was going insane. Either way, he just gaped at her, because what the fuck were you supposed to do when a fucking movie star comes around talking to you?
"Holy shit," he said, forgetting to even try to figure out where the fuck he was. Who gave a shit, really? This was way better than going to the police station.
"Well, that's somewhat anticlimactic," I murmur, passing him, then stop and look back. I look form his gun to my two and up at him, lifting one eyebrow. My gaze flickers up a little higher to what appears to be a lady's stocking on the top of his head.
This, to me, says 'bank robbery'.
"Undertaking a particularly dangerous pantie raid, were we?"
Fuck, he had forgotten about the shit on his head. He immediately pulled it off, cursing Rupert in his head for the fucking stupid idea. They would have been better off going into the place without anything on period. He turned around once he put his sunglasses back in front of his eyes. His hair was sticking up a little, but it couldn't he helped.
"Uh," he uttered, still at a loss for words because, well, Angelina fucking Jolie was talking to him. He got flustered around normal girls, nevermind fucking celebrities. "You're Angelina Jolie. What the fuck are you doing in Connecticut?"
He purposely didn't answer the question. Fuck, she didn't have to know he had just been holding up a joint. She might go sick some bodyguards on him or something.
Angela was having a pretty good day. A swim in the ocean always made her feel more awake, more alive, and it was just good to get some kind of exercise anyway. Hair still wet and towel around her waist, she hummed softly to herself as she strolled along the path to the Compound.
"Hey Jim," she called with a bright smile when she saw the man sitting on the front steps. "What's wrong with you?" The question was playful and asked with a slight grin, but he really did seem off, and Angela's eyes were a little more serious.
[Let's do this after the gun's taken away. I don't need trauma. :D]
Gideon was pissed. Not only had he showed up on some random island, some dude took his fucking gun away, thinking it was a safety hazard. He figured he'd ought to be grateful he wasn't sitting in a fucking jail cell or something like that, but shit, he had expected to be rich by now and living it up in England. Everything sucked.
And now suddenly this chick - who was, okay, pretty fucking hot, like every girl he'd seen on the island so far - was coming up to him acting like she knew him, and there was that fucking name again. The dude who had taken his gun called him the same thing.
"Sorry, lady," he said, standing up and wiping his hands off on his pants. He hoped the island had dry cleaning, because just sitting outside for a little while had dirtied them. "I ain't this Jim guy. Name's Gideon."
He figured he'd make the most of things. Hot chick was talking to him - without him even trying! - so he offered his hand in what he felt was a damn suave manner.
Slowing to a stop, Angela just blinked at the guy with mouth slightly parted, hands finding their way to her hips. She figured it would only be a matter of time before someone she knew ended up having a double, but Jim?
And a clone with the name of Gideon? As if selling paper back home wasn't bad enough.
But then he offered her his hand, and an eyebrow arched upwards. Angela had been the target of a lot of pick-up lines in her time (which was... well, now), so she wasn't so much surprised as amused. And a little suspicious.
"Sorry... Gideon," she said, cautiously taking his hand. If this was Jim just screwing with her, she was going to hurt him. "I'm Angela." A smirk quirked her lips. "You're in for some trouble if you just got here. I think pretty much everybody and their baby knows Jim."
The whole lookalike thing had sort of pissed him off before, but it was occuring to Gideon that if this jackass was as popular as Angela said he was, meeting girls was going to be fucking easy as hell. They'd all think he was that dude, come up to him, and he'd go laying on his charms.
Which he was doing to Angela right now. He lifted her hand before she could say anything and kissed the back of it before letting go, looking sort of pleased with himself. And Desmond said he sucked with girls.
"He's got good taste in company if he's friends with you," he said, offering her a half-grin. Girls dug that. "Yeah, I'm new here. Just trying to get my head around this fucking place. How long have you been here?"
Comments 167
"What's the occasion?" he asked goodnaturedly.
Reply
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, the gun still trained on him. Dude sounded like Rupert, but he definitely didn't look like he rolled with him.
Reply
certain things got pointed at you in a threatening manner, you just assumed the worst about them-
and got flustered.
"What?! I'm- What?! Bloody hell, don't- are you mad?"
Reply
"I asked you a fucking question," he said. "Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?"
Reply
She stopped, one eyebrow raised.
"You're new, aren't you, mate?"
Reply
He lifted the gun at her, holding it like fucking Al Pacino or something, and really, if he didn't have the fucking pantyhose still on his head he knew he probably would have looked really intimidating. "What the shit are you talking about, new? I'm not fucking around, lady. What's going on here?"
Reply
"You're not where you fucking think you are and if you don't stop point that fucking thing at me, I'm going to break your fucking arm."
Or I'll scream and Sarah'll put an ice pick through your fucking neck and, believe me, mate, that fucking hurts.
Reply
Plus, she was kind of hot. Shit, hotter than that teller in the bank, anyway.
He lowered the weapon slightly.
"I don't know where the fuck I am period, lady," he said. After a moment of thought, he decided to take another approach, and his face softened. Fucking award winning acting right there. "Look, I don't want to have to shoot you. Just tell me where the hell we are and how the hell I can get out of here."
Reply
I'd been in the kitchen looking for some ice cream, but it was just my luck that the one day I was totally jonesing for some was a day there wasn't any made. Guess that's what I got for not partaking last time we had some.
Anyway. I'd grabbed a cookie instead (SO not the same, for the record) and was standing in the kitchen doorway peering out at this lively new guy. Because oh, he was definitely new.
"Good question," I answered, and took a bite of my cookie.
Reply
"Stand right where you are, lady," he said, his eyes narrowing. He pulled off the fucking pantyhose off his head, letting his sunglasses drop back in front of his eyes.
There. Now he finally looked as badass as he wanted to look. Fucking Rupert.
"Who are you and what the shit is going on here?"
Reply
"Are you trying to rob me?" I asked, brows arching, because if he wanted the cookie that badly, he could have it. "Or do you always have conversations with people at gun point? Because see, my rules are, if you want me to answer your questions, you can't be threatening to kill me." New rule, I just made it up right then. I thought it sounded kinda cool. Like I was in charge.
Reply
It wasn't like Gideon actually wanted to go around shooting people, much less some random girl who wasn't pointing a gun back at him. Helped she was cute, too. Maybe he'd try the nice way. That worked in the movies, too.
"Did I say I was robbing you?" he asked, lowering his weapon enough to make it not very threatening. He wasn't willing to put it away just yet, but that was just because he wasn't a fucking moron. He was in some strange as fuck place and he didn't feel like dying.
If he hadn't died already.
"Fine. Weapon's down. Where the fuck am I?" he asked, trying to sound just a little nicer about it without acting too much like he was rolling over for her. He didn't want to look like he didn't still have control of the situation, after all.
Reply
"What is what?" I ask, not out of concern, but out of curiosity.
Reply
"Holy shit," he said, forgetting to even try to figure out where the fuck he was. Who gave a shit, really? This was way better than going to the police station.
Reply
This, to me, says 'bank robbery'.
"Undertaking a particularly dangerous pantie raid, were we?"
Reply
"Uh," he uttered, still at a loss for words because, well, Angelina fucking Jolie was talking to him. He got flustered around normal girls, nevermind fucking celebrities. "You're Angelina Jolie. What the fuck are you doing in Connecticut?"
He purposely didn't answer the question. Fuck, she didn't have to know he had just been holding up a joint. She might go sick some bodyguards on him or something.
Reply
"Hey Jim," she called with a bright smile when she saw the man sitting on the front steps. "What's wrong with you?" The question was playful and asked with a slight grin, but he really did seem off, and Angela's eyes were a little more serious.
[Let's do this after the gun's taken away. I don't need trauma. :D]
Reply
And now suddenly this chick - who was, okay, pretty fucking hot, like every girl he'd seen on the island so far - was coming up to him acting like she knew him, and there was that fucking name again. The dude who had taken his gun called him the same thing.
"Sorry, lady," he said, standing up and wiping his hands off on his pants. He hoped the island had dry cleaning, because just sitting outside for a little while had dirtied them. "I ain't this Jim guy. Name's Gideon."
He figured he'd make the most of things. Hot chick was talking to him - without him even trying! - so he offered his hand in what he felt was a damn suave manner.
Reply
And a clone with the name of Gideon? As if selling paper back home wasn't bad enough.
But then he offered her his hand, and an eyebrow arched upwards. Angela had been the target of a lot of pick-up lines in her time (which was... well, now), so she wasn't so much surprised as amused. And a little suspicious.
"Sorry... Gideon," she said, cautiously taking his hand. If this was Jim just screwing with her, she was going to hurt him. "I'm Angela." A smirk quirked her lips. "You're in for some trouble if you just got here. I think pretty much everybody and their baby knows Jim."
Reply
Which he was doing to Angela right now. He lifted her hand before she could say anything and kissed the back of it before letting go, looking sort of pleased with himself. And Desmond said he sucked with girls.
"He's got good taste in company if he's friends with you," he said, offering her a half-grin. Girls dug that. "Yeah, I'm new here. Just trying to get my head around this fucking place. How long have you been here?"
Reply
Leave a comment