Doyle (am_i_done) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-05-31 23:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | cordelia chase, doyle |
Who: Doyle and Cordelia
What: Doyle is brooding and Cordelia needs someone to talk to. There will also be whiskey and ice cream.
When: Early evening
Where: The Hyperion, in the kitchen to be exact
Rating: TBD, but no higher than PG-13
Doyle stabbed a spoon into his ice cream, which was already on its way to sinking into itself and melting until it was able to call itself soup instead of what it was supposed to be. The spoon clanked against the bottom of the bowl upon impact. He let it go, pushed the whole bowl of melting swirls of chocolate and peanut butter away from him, pulled out a chair and sat down next to the counter.
Was he scowling? No. Yes. Maybe. He could have been. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. Doyle couldn’t find anything to be mad about. The city was crazy, yes. Things were different and not like they were supposed to be. Weird was one way to describe it and then there was always the ‘I think I might have died and stepped into the Twilight Zone’ way of thinking. He could go either way and not be satisfied with what he came up with, so to make things so much easier, he would stick to the first one and drop the second because it sounded too crazy, even to him.
Staring up into the lights, Doyle blinked and tipped the chair back. That was something that he’d always reprimanded his students for doing in the past. It seemed like a million years now, but he could still remember names and how they used to beg to draw on the chalkboard at recess and while waiting for their buses to take them home. Kids were easy. Kids adored you if you were fun; they liked you if you brought them treats and threw them Christmas parties and Halloween parties, always with little presents and candy to make them happy and giddy with excitement.
Doyle wished that the world was as easy as those kids. It would have made things a hell of lot better. Kids knew how to live in the moment. They knew how to stop being moody and act like they’d never seen or tasted chocolate before. Lucky them.
The chair’s legs found the floor and Doyle stood and leaned up against the counter. It would be good for him to get out of the hotel. He hadn’t left since Cordelia had picked him up from the Cat Lady’s house downtown, but to be honest, he had no desire to walk out the door. Ice cream, whiskey and brooding was all that he needed. Until he got bored and came up with something else.
“I wanna chalkboard.” His confession was made a little too loud. If somebody walked through the doorway, if somebody looked at him funny, he could blame his weird announcement on being drunk. Being drunk was an acceptable reason for wanting a chalkboard.