[larry dimmick]

[im_a_toughguy]

Something about patrolling, even with Anita, more often than not proved itself to be one of the most mundane tasks that Freddy could name. The most you were bound to run into was a lover's spat or someone who forgot that napping on the beach in their skivvies wasn't the best plan, and even those situations were rare at best. It was, for all intents

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[shootmeinadream]

He'd long since stopped counting the days in which he'd spent on the island. He may as well have gone through the stages of grieving, for Christ's sake. All the way from anger to acceptance, even if the last one was still a little rough. But maybe that would just come with time. Isn't that what everybody said? Time heals all?

Every day was exactly the same for Larry. The same fucking routine, because routine you could count on. It was steady, constant, unlike the transition from the warehouse to the island. Helped keep him sane. Or as sane as you could be when you were surrounded by people who, like yourself, found themselves in the middle of nowhere with no idea howEven during the rainstorm he'd go for long walks, no real purpose behind them. Just one foot after the other, occasionally bumming a smoke off of anyone lucky enough to have one (he'd long since smoked the last in his pack). Today, though, something just felt off. Larry had had an uneasy sleep the night before, dreams of the warehouse and drowning in his head, and the

[im_a_toughguy]

Bumping into someone was never a big deal. A second to mutter a mutual apology, a startled look and then both were off again without even having it cross their mind again. With a single building as the focal point of an entire community it was very nearly a daily expectation.

Freddy had his side of the apology on his tongue, on the tip of it ready to tumble out but instead he swallowed it and it caught in his throat, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as if he'd eaten too much peanut butter. That voice. Muttered, low and unfocused, but it was still there, hanging in the air and ringing in his ears and his head turned abruptly, just enough to see the guy from behind and his breath caught, choking him.

Don't be a clone, please be a clone...Is was probably two seconds at the most, but he was standing there, half turned towards the man that had passed him and he couldn't make a sound get past the lump that had formed. He probably looked demented, the expression he had from trying to force a sound out, but rather than

[shootmeinadream]

Larry paused, turning towards the direction of the bizarre sound he'd heard, halfway in the Compound, halfway out.

"Are you oka-"

There are certain moments where your heart actually grinds to a halt, synapses stop firing, and higher brain function shuts down. Unfortunately for Larry, this happened to be one of those moments.

When their eyes locked, he could feel his chest tighten, desperate for air, and yet unable to take a breath.

Mr. Orange, in the fucking flesh.

[im_a_toughguy]

This is exactly why you shouldn't play hookie. Freddy thought in stunned silence.

He had considered the possibility of this day. He'd wondered what he would say, when it would happen, if Larry would kill him on sight or attempt to speak with him first. But as he tried to formulate something to say, tried to force a coherent reaction, all he could think was... nothing. His brain was fizzling like static, small snippets, ideas and thoughts bouncing off the walls of his skull but nothing managing to settle. His mouth opened, he gaped and he he tried to form words, but the most he could do was stare. The older man looked exactly the same. Tired perhaps, his shoulders sagged down with the weight that came from being trapped. But other than that he was the same man Freddy had seen two years ago.

He wondered if he looked any different.

"... uh."