|Brennan Liam Patterson (scratchthesky) wrote in immune_ic,|
@ 2011-11-30 22:03:00
|Entry tags:||# 2011  november|
WHO: Brennan Patterson and Lucretia Lewis
WHAT: Brennan is performing one of his rounds and Lucretia joins him.
WHEN: Wednesday, 30 Nov. 2018
WHERE: Liberty Island, outskirts of the safehouse
The fact the weather was cooling down was nice enough. At the very least, it was helping him calm down after getting particularly frustrated with some of the other survivors on the island. He had a short enough fuse as it is, and it just seemed like they were cutting it shorter every time, and he's honestly surprised he hasn't punched anyone yet. It wouldn't be conducive, since he might accidently disable a person enough that they would be down one and thus be less efficient. Brennan wasn't sure if it was the meticulous nature that came with being an architect and having to plan everything to the last lightbulb and outlet, or just some facet of his personality that led him to micromanage every detail, but if they were all doing something, it would be better for the safehouse as a whole, and he tried to think of it that way. In all honesty, he figured what he was trying to do was noble, not to inflate his own ego, but on the other side of that coin, he had to admit that there was probably a better way to go about it. His employees at the firm were always frustrated with the way he needed to control every detail for efficiency and his inability to tolerate failure, but it got the job done, and in the end, no one was really going to argue with the boss. Not that he was trying to take over here or anything, he just wanted to make it out alive, and he honestly didn't want to see any of these people die, even the ones that sort of got on his nerves. He may never have been a people person, but there's something about the constant looming threat of everyone you've ever known or met just dying all around you that made even Brennan a little softer at heart, even if he still carried on like a complete jerk for the most part. He sucked at affection. Sue him.
Now was the time for another one of his rounds though, and he put aside his annoyances for the time being, since it would do them all good if he was completely focused. For probably the eighth time in ten minutes, he checked the location of his knives and picked up the rifle he had taken from back home. It wasn't his first choice of a weapon, but it's come in handy a few times, so far, and he's rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. He pulled his arm through the strap and rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension. Even knowing that he was immune and having done this pretty much every night since he had gotten here still hasn't quite wiped out the lingering sense of fear any rational person would feel when knowing they were going up against something that would kill you given the chance without a second thought. It's not like he was a soldier before; he used to sit around in an office and sketch buildings all day. He sighed quietly to himself, imagining the view from his office when it was still a view you envied. He took a step forward and lost the memory, letting that be the last distraction.
He had almost forgotten that he wasn't going to be alone this time around since he had met a woman earlier in the day who he figured he'd invite along with him. She was probably infinitely a better shot than he, and that could come in handy on the hopefully extremely unlikely event that a bunch of swimmers washed up on shore. One of the other survivors, David, the one who is the number one person on Brennan's list of people he would have punched out in another time, had seen one - or claimed to have seen one. The guy was strange, so Brennan wasn't sure what to believe most of the time.
"You ready to go?" He called to her, Lucretia her name was, finally. He was already a minute off schedule because of his flashbacks, and he was more than anxious to get the patrol started.