(Untitled)

[missingthekeep]

It takes Sean a little more than a week and a little more than an afternoon spent knocking back drinks before he finally gets back to work on building a fence for the dog. He'd been making decent progress before the hurricane had seen fit to undo it all, but with everything else that's been dogging him lately, he just hasn't been able to work up

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[wormholed]

"Whoa," said John, rounding the corner with half a melon in his hand. He pulled it away from his mouth just long enough to grin at Sean and the impressive glower he had going on.

"And here I was wondering where I could get my own personal storm cloud today."

[o hai, longtime IPD partner with whom I have never threaded XD]

[missingthekeep]

Sean rolls his eyes and suppresses a sigh, pausing in what he's doing to turn and cross his arms, slightly more at ease. He'll be damned if he's going to let on just how bad this is if he doesn't have to.

"Yeah, well, ye know me. Always lookin' t'help."

[wormholed]

"Yep, you're a giver like that." John eyed the pile of wood Sean had going and, to his credit, tossed away the rest of his melon in lieu of offering the last of half-gnawed husk to Sean.

"Need some help?"

[missingthekeep]

"Hardly," Sean scoffs, out of some innate, stubborn pride, but he recants a moment later. It's slow enough going as it is, after all. "I'll take it though, if'n ye're game." So long as he doesn't try getting all chatty, at least.

[wormholed]

"Hurricane did a number on everybody," said John, bending down to get a better look at the wood they were working with. "Makes me wish I still lived in a cave." He rocked back on his heels. "You cut this all yourself?"

[missingthekeep]

"Seein' as ye're the only other one 'round an' ye havenae actually done anythin' yet, I think so, aye," Sean deadpans, quirking an eyebrow up. "Most of 'em were felled by the storm, but what c'n I say, it's been a long day. T'put it mildly."

[wormholed]

John grinned. Sean was about as cheery as D'Argo had been, which was to say not at all, and John was fond of the guy. Also, appreciative of the fact that unlike D'Argo, Sean wasn't likely to threaten him with tossing him out an airlock. The lack of tattooed tentacles was an added plus.

"Long day 'cause of chopping, or long day 'cause of something else?"

[missingthekeep]

"Does it make a difference either way?" Sean asks with a frown, as if that isn't answer enough. It does make him wonder at the logic of his decision to physically exhaust himself to distract from the emotional exhaustion, though. "Nae as if it cannae be both."

[wormholed]

That was true enough, and John shrugged, watching Scorpius pause by Sean's side, his grotesque, alien head cocked in study. Alcohol, he pronounced, or what passes for it here, an assessment that John dismissed with a half-raised brow.

"Well, if you're gonna let off steam," he said, looking around for the axe, "might as well be with something large and pointy."