Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-02-25 17:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle002, marcus, sully |
Who: Marcus and Sully
When: New Year's Eve (December 31st), after 11pm
Where: Hospital ward.
What: Marcus is doing his job.
Warning: Normal Marcus warnings, probably.
They were running out of beds at the hospital. It wasn't an unheard of situation, given that there weren't many beds to begin with, but it was rare. It didn't help that some of their staff members were in the hospital beds, either. Marcus had been putting in even longer hours than usually, covering shifts wherever he could. Doing his part to help. It was a decent distraction from the whole thing with Bryant.
The whole intention had been to get the mortician out of his system, but it hadn't gone down that way. If anything, his obsession with the older man had only grown worse since Christmas. The Ladyhawke scheduling wasn't helping him figure anything out, either. Bryant had been pouring his attention into the recently discovered bodies, and by the time he was done for the day, Marcus was usually already heading out for his shift. Even if the older man were inclined to do so, there simply hadn't been the opportunity to have a meaningful conversation. Marcus felt wired and tense, as if he were waiting for something to snap suddenly into place. Nothing had ever made sense when it came to Bryant, though. The older man was eternally frustrating, elusive... skittish, of all fucking things, but with an unquestionable core of iron. Bryant wasn't allowing himself to be pushed entirely over, but he was budging, and as sure as the sea would continue its endless task of eroding the coastline, Marcus was locked into the pattern. His emotions swinging wildly between predatory stalking and longing for scraps of affection like a motherfucking dog.
The dog was also weighing on him more than he'd thought it would. Marcus hadn't stuck around to watch the dog die, but it had certainly ingested enough poison to kill a horse. It hadn't even regarded him with suspicion when he'd entered the trailer, even though Hunter hadn't been around. Weren't dogs supposed to bark when someone who wasn't their owner opened the front door? He'd thought that was why they were useful to keep around.
Dumb bitch hadn't even locked that door. It had all been too easy. Effortless, really. That bothered him more than if he'd had a few dog bites to show for his troubles. Some kind of penance. But the dog had been complacent, willingly - eagerly - eating as much of the poisoned food as it could fit in its belly, and so far as he knew nobody had seen him come or go. There'd be no comeuppance for the dog. He was in the clear, and Bryant had loved the skull. Hell, the older man had been delighted by it. The gift was a win, well worth the price of one old dog.
So why did it nag at him?
Too easy, Marcus decided. That's all it was. It wasn't sitting right with him because something worth that much money should have cost him more than just the guilt over the dog. He'd swing by the antique shop sometime that week to make sure his debt was clear. That should put his mind at ease and let him put it behind him. Bryant had loved the gift, and that was what mattered at the end of the day. He was coming around, slowly but steadily, and Marcus could be the fucking tide if that's what it took.
Pushing thoughts of dogs and tides away, Marcus began the night rounds, checking the occupants of the crowded rooms. Making sure nothing was amiss. Machinery and patients both humming with inarguable life, even if all of it had seen better days. Some of it more recently than others. Most of the people were drifting in their own seas of drug-induced sleep, and didn't even notice his coming or going at all.