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savetheearth2014-12-11 08:29 pm
dead_black_eyes) wrote in savetheearth2014-12-11 08:29 pm
Entry tags:
You Told Me Something That Scared Me to Death [Closed, backdated to December 3]
Who: Lazarus "L" Lawliet and Tony Sparado
What: Two friends take some downtime to talk about recent events.
When: Backdated to December 3, two days after this nasty business
Where: Willow Ridge Surveillance Center
Warnings: Talk of suicide
It had been a tense couple of days. L had been preparing for the old school to be used as a sort of base obsessively, but his careful planning and arranging for hosting and heading future mission controls at his basement intelligence center had been interrupted by a terrible accident. Well... accident was putting it generously. From L's point of view, it had been a deliberate enough act, despite claims that the Mafia thug in question had been scared and too used to being a lousy shot to think that his bullet would actually hit its mark. He was no fan of Luca Dantonio; had he been there, he felt it was unlikely he would have taken mercy on him with Tony lying prone just a few feet away, having had a bullet tear through his grey matter.
L was still trying to come to terms with his feelings on a lot of what had happened that night. He toweled his face dry after rinsing it quickly with some cold water, but when he met his own eyes in the mirror, they were drawn quickly to a vibrant bruise across his cheek bone. It took relatively little for his pale skin to bruise, and Tony's flailing blow had connected strangely, but enough to leave a mark. More for the poor kid to feel guilty over, if he saw it... L idly wondered if it would be too transparent to ask a girl over the network about concealer tips, but ultimately decided against it, considering it a misuse of such a valuable resource. He'd just have to suck it up and hope that it faded quickly.
The upside of being thorough with preparations was that things got done and were consequently in order for when they were needed. The downside was that L found himself, for the first time in a long time, with no immediate job to do. He pulled his room's chair toward the window, cracked it open, and lit a cigarette. Maybe at some point he'd try to make the dorm room he'd claimed for himself a little more comfortable than bare white walls and Xander's sleeping bag lying directly on the boarding school's original rusty twin bed frame. For all his intellect, though, L didn't know the first thing about comfort.
What: Two friends take some downtime to talk about recent events.
When: Backdated to December 3, two days after this nasty business
Where: Willow Ridge Surveillance Center
Warnings: Talk of suicide
It had been a tense couple of days. L had been preparing for the old school to be used as a sort of base obsessively, but his careful planning and arranging for hosting and heading future mission controls at his basement intelligence center had been interrupted by a terrible accident. Well... accident was putting it generously. From L's point of view, it had been a deliberate enough act, despite claims that the Mafia thug in question had been scared and too used to being a lousy shot to think that his bullet would actually hit its mark. He was no fan of Luca Dantonio; had he been there, he felt it was unlikely he would have taken mercy on him with Tony lying prone just a few feet away, having had a bullet tear through his grey matter.
L was still trying to come to terms with his feelings on a lot of what had happened that night. He toweled his face dry after rinsing it quickly with some cold water, but when he met his own eyes in the mirror, they were drawn quickly to a vibrant bruise across his cheek bone. It took relatively little for his pale skin to bruise, and Tony's flailing blow had connected strangely, but enough to leave a mark. More for the poor kid to feel guilty over, if he saw it... L idly wondered if it would be too transparent to ask a girl over the network about concealer tips, but ultimately decided against it, considering it a misuse of such a valuable resource. He'd just have to suck it up and hope that it faded quickly.
The upside of being thorough with preparations was that things got done and were consequently in order for when they were needed. The downside was that L found himself, for the first time in a long time, with no immediate job to do. He pulled his room's chair toward the window, cracked it open, and lit a cigarette. Maybe at some point he'd try to make the dorm room he'd claimed for himself a little more comfortable than bare white walls and Xander's sleeping bag lying directly on the boarding school's original rusty twin bed frame. For all his intellect, though, L didn't know the first thing about comfort.