--in the midst of it all.Brian Grant sits forward, the old wooden chair creaking with the movement as he writes. It's part of his routine. Come home from work, take his meal, pen an entry in his journal
( Read more... )
Johnny O'Brian is returning home from the bar. He's disappointingly devoid of female company, but he supposes it can't be helped. We can't get lucky all the time.
It's a cool night with a pleasant breeze, which wakes the tired man up a bit. Pausing under a streetlight, he rubs his neck, checks for his wallet, searches his pockets for a cigarette. At last he finds a pack and retrieves one. Now for a lighter.
He's tired, but doesn't feel like going home just yet; you never know what's going to happen on a night like this.
A figure is walking toward him, quietly, stepping into the light. The brim of his hat casting the upper portion of his face in shadow. His white beard seems to gleam in the light.
"Not too bad, no," Johnny says, digging into a back pocket with one hand. This guy seems to think he's in some sort of noir flick, but that's no reason not to be friendly. "Got a light? I know I've got here somewhere..."
Dave doesn't plan to wander the streets. He never plans anything anymore, just lets his legs take him wherever. Autopilot. Easy.
When he first sees Grant, he isn't sure if it's him. It's dark, after all, and he's hopeful (too hopeful) and wouldn't put it past his mind to play tricks on him. Brian. Uncle Brian. Heather's Uncle Brian who works at the high school. His uncle in law. Another link.
He stops walking and hesitates. Does he continue onward? Does he call out? He squints ahead, trying to make sense of the shadows.
Dave's in luck. Grant pauses to take a seat on a city bench, setting his briefcase beside himself. He removes his hat and yes, that's a very familiar profile.
Now he's removing his shoe and shaking it out. Blasted pebbles.
"Brian?" he asks, taking a step towards him. He has a nervous, false cheer to his voice that's supposed to cover up the fact he's drunk and miserable, but doesn't, really. "Brian! How good it is to see you!"
"Hm?" Grant looks up when he hears his name, the familiar voice. "Oh, hullo David." His voice is as soft and even as always. He smiles and it's as genuine as it comes for him. He puts his shoe back on.
"I haven't seen you for a long while. How are you?" If he'd heard about Dave's recent problems through the family or his niece, it's not apparent.
Irene is out, enjoying the city lights. Sometimes, when she's bored, she imagines who lives where, trying to guess their lives and whether or not they're happy. What are they reading? What are they watching? Is she anywhere close to the truth?
It was a long day of work, so she feels she's earned it. The air is fresh tonight, and cool. She hums slightly as she walks, and when she comes across the man in long coat and hat, she's in too good a mood not to say something. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" she says, cheerfully.
Irene notices how still he is, and almost wonders if he was ex-military.
"I don't have a curfew, and I'm staying near the lights," she says. His comment is odd, however, and the young reporter tucks a white lock behind her ear.
"Of course." Grant turns; he has intense blue eyes that study her. "You're wise to keep to the light. There is a serial killer out, have you heard? I've been wary as well"
Comments 49
It's a cool night with a pleasant breeze, which wakes the tired man up a bit. Pausing under a streetlight, he rubs his neck, checks for his wallet, searches his pockets for a cigarette. At last he finds a pack and retrieves one. Now for a lighter.
He's tired, but doesn't feel like going home just yet; you never know what's going to happen on a night like this.
Reply
"Lovely night."
Reply
Reply
"Nasty habit," he says mildly.
Reply
When he first sees Grant, he isn't sure if it's him. It's dark, after all, and he's hopeful (too hopeful) and wouldn't put it past his mind to play tricks on him. Brian. Uncle Brian. Heather's Uncle Brian who works at the high school. His uncle in law. Another link.
He stops walking and hesitates. Does he continue onward? Does he call out? He squints ahead, trying to make sense of the shadows.
Reply
Now he's removing his shoe and shaking it out. Blasted pebbles.
Reply
Reply
"I haven't seen you for a long while. How are you?" If he'd heard about Dave's recent problems through the family or his niece, it's not apparent.
Reply
It was a long day of work, so she feels she's earned it. The air is fresh tonight, and cool. She hums slightly as she walks, and when she comes across the man in long coat and hat, she's in too good a mood not to say something. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" she says, cheerfully.
Reply
"Yes. Late for a woman to be out alone, isn't it?" His voice is soft, almost serene.
Reply
"I don't have a curfew, and I'm staying near the lights," she says. His comment is odd, however, and the young reporter tucks a white lock behind her ear.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment