(Untitled)

[milkbonesoldier]

Some days are better than others, and some are far, far worse. Wells knew from the moment he woke up this morning that today was going to be one of the bad ones. That's why he slipped away from Annie while she still slept, and why he came here. Oh, sure, he could pummel the heavy bag in his basement, he got one of those a while ago just in case-

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[fathers_cleric]

John Preston wants to apologize. But he's not sure how to do it.

He stills thinks Wells is wrong. He still things that their worlds are far too different, and that his concept of what could happen is still very different from what actually will.

But he's a bit more understanding as far as treachery is concerned.

So after a few moments of watching he says, "-Grima Wormtongue."

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells was in the middle of one of those fits he occasionally has where he treats the heavy bag as if it were the speed bag instead. They're murder on the knuckles, but he heals it eventually, so he's never seen any reason not to push in that direction.

He wasn't expecting anyone to speak to him. When he's at the pistol range, his concentration collapses the world down to an absolute minimum: in front of you, within range, and a little to either side. Everything outside that tends to be written off unless it moves into the cone of possible strikes. He was concentrating just so when Preston walked into the vicinity, so when Preston spoke, he froze. It takes him a minute to realise two things: one, that his hand stopped a bare millimeter from the bag, and two, that whatever was said was being addressed to him.

He looks up and over, otherwise not moving. "Beg your pardon?"

[fathers_cleric]

Preston is...impressed.

He's not that good. But then again Wells is wells, and well-

The image of Father, with that expression is enough to send both Preston and his mun into fits of laughter.

Preston however, coughs, "-Grima Wormtongue betrayed Rohan's riders. They thought he was their friend, and then Gandalf revealed his falsehood."

How best to explain?

"....Clearly-individuals in remote positions of power are capable of treachery. Not just leaders."

This is John Preston without Dupont (At least, not yet). He-technically-has never been lied to. At least about who to consider the ultimate evil.

[milkbonesoldier]

If it's the expression in the previous icon, the laughter should be even more impressive. That's Macbeth, the night of Duncan's murder.

Anyway.

Wells drops his hand with a grunt. "Yeah, that's so," he says. "Just figured it out now, did you?"

[stopped_signal]

"Sergeant Wells!" comes a cheerful call from the corner, when Mr. Universe happens to look up and notice him. "How's the device been working so far?"

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells looks over and grins. "Just fine, lad," he says. "Just fine. I haven't had to release anything yet, mind you- which is fine with me. How've you been?"

[stopped_signal]

"Well enough. Plenty of time to work on my projects, and that's all I can really ask. And you?"

[milkbonesoldier]

"Going fucking mad 'cos I'm surrounded by fourteen million people, and maybe- maybe- a million of 'em have any sense," Wells says. "But we've got a house lined up in the country once the baby's born and Phils is settled in with her, so it won't last forever."

[banished_to]

Her hair is the color of unpolished gold and her dress is autumn shades. This probably isn't what he notices first. What he notices first is probably a tie between the fact that she's fifteen freaking feet tall barefoot and half of her body smells dead.

One of the two long braids hangs so that it covers the left side of her face from casual glances, and the left hand is in a leather glove that nearly mimics the color of her other hand.

Inhumanly good ears may pick up the faint click of bones without enough padding sliding into each other with each movement of her left leg and arm, a sharper glance will note that side of her body looks wasted compared to the other.

The visible side of her face has the same stunning beauty that the Norse goddesses were supposed to have. Svava's face has a little of it, too.

[milkbonesoldier]

The scent intrudes on Wells' consciousness first, as that's the one sense he can't shut down to concentrate. That's weird. He freezes, turns, looks up-

"Fucking hell!" he exclaims. And that's it, because most of the other words he has in mind are variations on the same theme.

[banished_to]

"No, I am still virgin."

Her voice is faintly slurred (this is because the left side of her tongue and mouth don't work well),

"And you are?"

[milkbonesoldier]

Blink, blink- wait, what?

The 'huh?' look still on his face, Wells answers, "Harry Wells. You some sort of giant or something?"

He's not up on his mythology. Really. She's just big.