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Gabe had been working in the wheat field when he'd heard some of the other workers nearby talking. Normally, Gabe just zoned out and ignored them. He never tried to talk to anyone. He kept to himself to avoid confrontation. It was the subject of their conversation that set him off. They were talking about a new report about water contamination in Madison. He knew specific code words in their conversation and his eyes widened.
( Panic! )
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Sadie was back at the hospital. She was there to see Slate. She knew Ketty was no longer in the room with him as she was on duty, and the Mayor was probably dealing with Mayoral stuff regarding the prisoner. So Sadie was free to see Slate in private, which was perfect.
When she got to his room, the door was open. He was still in bed, of course, but facing her. She looked at the beeping machines around him for a few moments, sending a silent prayer of gratitude up to the heavens for keeping him alive, and then knocked lightly on the door frame.
( Sorry you got shot. )
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The Sinai Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony tended to be a weekend long affair. It started early Saturday with a bazaar - the town square was full of small tents and stands of merchants selling specials and discounted merchandise, food, etc. There were all kinds of activities for kids to take part in while their parents wondered. It was generally a jolly time despite the colder temperatures. The lighting ceremony would take place at night, with the Mayor lighting the tree. Sunday's activities were the same as Saturdays, just carried over to extend the celebration into a two-day weekend event.
( Random tree stuff! )
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At Rainey's and Matos' military funerals, Slate had reminded the Shepherd sisters about the semi-agreement they'd made on their bloody trek home outside the city walls. They'd eat dinner, drink, and then give into drunken passions. After the funerals were over, Sadie and Ketty were down for the first two out of the three of those things.
( Slate, Ketty, and Sadie get pretty drunk. )
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![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) sadieshep |
| 06-26-2008 @ 23:15 |
| Sadie's show at the Jujube; Saturday night; OTA for whatever! |
| Public |
| gabe, sadie, slate |
Sadie really didn't like that she couldn't play her guitar Saturday night, especially since this was the first performance that Eli would be attending. There was nothing she could do about it though, so she got her buddy Frank to play backup for her instead.
The bar was packed more than usual for this show, no doubt because of the deadly rumor combo of supply run attack injuries and supposed Colonel-bartender-transplant love triangles. To add fuel to this fire, Sadie did make sure there was an empty table right in front of the stage with a sign saying RESERVED in large, easy to read print. This table was for tardy (according to plan, of course) Slate, but there was another one nearby that was saved for punctual Eli.
The show got underway not terribly long after its scheduled time, and after an intro talking about how the cast screwed up her ability to play, Sadie got into the singing. Sadie's music was of the traditional country variety; she did a lot of torchy ballads, as well as more upbeat stuff. The upbeat stuff was more fun to play with her guitar, though. Tonight she made sure to sing her best material -- she had a firefighter to impress, after all.
Once she had gotten through about three songs, Slate was still M.I.A. Sadie could tell the gossipy natives were getting restless. It was pretty fantastic.
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Being stuck in the hospital was boring as hell. Sure Ketty got visitors throughout the day to break up the monotony, but they had to come to her. She was stuck with conversations in the same dreary scenery all day. It sucked, but at least she was alive and still had all her limbs.
( Slate stops by with a wheelchair. )
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Once Slate was inside, his brother Josiah was already waiting with a group of nurses, some military, some civilian, and a gurney. Slate was reluctant to, but he put down on the gurney. He put one hand on the rail of the bed and then looked around for Sadie. When he spotted her in his wild wide-eyed crazy haze, he grabbed onto her uninjured arm to pull her along with them toward the emergency room. Of course they only got as far as the door of the room they were pushing Ketty to to work on her.
( Most of them get back in one piece; lots of people feel guilty. )
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Slate was finishing up helping secure the last of the supplies they'd traded for, something Sinai did not only for specialties but also to help the surrounding unfortified communities, into the back of the humveee they'd been granted just for this little expedition. He left Rainey and Matos to finish up loading the supplies and walked over to the driver's side of the car, spotting the Shepherd girls by the passenger door. He looked at Sadie and her new instrument. "Y'know Shep, this means you owe me twice for letting you tag along," And not to mention that she traded a whole damn gallon of the tequila he'd gotten her for a guitar, singular. She could've gotten a dozen of them for that tequila it was so damn rare! He shook his head as he opened the driver's side door to find his sunglasses so he could put them on.
( And everything goes horribly wrong. )
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Lance twirled a fifth of vodka in his hand as he moved to pour a basic screwdriver. He grinned at the customer as he slid the drink infront of them and turned to grab a sip of his icewater he kept behind the bar.
It was a busy night, as always. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed a bit before turning back to the people at the bar, trying to identify who needed another drink.
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Hey, he told her she should come to him if she had questions or requests about supplies. And Sadie had a definite need for a certain supply -- Dave had a freak back room accident, causing her number one acoustic guitar to get partly crushed by a crate.
It was horrific. And Sadie needed a new guitar stat, as she had a performance in a few days. And so she was desperate enough to pick up the phone and turn to Slate for help.
Now if only he'd answer on his end...
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| kettyshep |
| 06-21-2008 @ 11:53 |
| Slate's office; [backdated to] Sunday; Slate and Ketty |
| Public |
| ketty, slate |
After dropping off the crates of booze to Sadie and then helping out with a morning ROTC exercise to fill in for a sick instructor, Slate returned home so that he could shower and change into his proper uniform. He walked to his office instead of driving and got down to business once he'd taken off his jacket and hung it up by his door. Sitting behind his desk, he opened a file that had been set on it in his absence and started to leaf through its contents. Apparently the Carters were in need of some fabric and thread supplies for their clothing shop. He turned to start up his laptop so he could access their information and see how they were on their supply rations.
( This was also supposed to up yesterday, yay I'm on top of things! )
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| sadieshep |
| 06-21-2008 @ 11:51 |
| Double-Z; [backdated to] Sunday; Sadie and Slate |
| Public |
| sadie, slate |
Sadie had been exhausted after closing on Saturday night, so she didn't clean the bar as much as she would have liked. That was what Sunday morning was for. She whistled along to the radio as she used a rag to clean off one of the tables by the front windows. She heard the sound of a car pulling up as she worked, and paused to squint out of the window.
( This was supposed to go up yesterday, whoops to being busy! )
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| slatebuckner |
| 06-13-2008 @ 00:11 |
| Col. Buckner & Major Shepherd, Sunday Late Morning @ The Military Gun Range |
| Public |
| ketty, slate |
Slate was having an irritating morning. There had been some commotion this morning regarding a denial in upping the alcohol import limit's for a bar near the east side in a shabby part of town. He was surprised Sadie hadn't beat the bar to the punch since Sadie's place was more popular. That, in Slate's opinion, meant the owner was drinking it himself or selling the liquor on the side without reporting it.
Slate had merely made this suggestion when denying the request when the owner had tried to attack him. There was now an open inquiry into the bar's bookkeeping and sales. And to blow off some steam, Slate had taken a long lunch. He wasn't hungry however, so he went to the gun range. He threw on his protective glasses and his headset and then let loose on a number of paper shaped targets. Shooting things was mighty relaxing.
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