Jul 30, 2006 03:12
The van grinds to a halt in the motel’s car park, and Sands is out of it almost before it’s stopped moving, staggering as his feet hit the ground. The sandy, dusty, still considerably deserty ground.
His scowl deepens and, rubbing at his sore wrists, he heads towards the motel. Whether anyone follows him or not is of no concern.
santino,
minivan,
mal,
oom,
random
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But Random, following a hunch, kisses Ramon before his lover goes into the shower, and slips out to knock on someone elses door.
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Santino was seated at a small desk, writing with inhuman speed across several sheets of paper.
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There are some things that don't bear listening to.
And like we said. He's following a hunch.
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He moves out of the doorway, turning and heading out without looking back over his shoulder to see if he's following.
"The air here's nice. A lot like home. Without the polution that Earth has."
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Amiable chatter is his forte.
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"I was there, briefly, in the nineteen thirties. I was looking for Dali and Picasso."
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He didn't plan it that way. Shadow walking sort of happens.
"This whole trip has been bizarre. I've never walked so many people. And never a psychic."
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The fact that he even admits uncertainity means something.
"You're getting a backwards look at my family, though."
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All ten of them (at the time.) Venting their frustrations.
"It could have been worse. What did you see?"
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It's a lie.
"My older brother- Gerard. He made them come back for me. I should have expected it, anyways. I was their seventeen year old brother, and I pushed my way into their fishing trip.
Did she have green hair?"
Llewella was beautiful.
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