henry harper sees dead people (obolos) wrote in monte_logs, @ 2012-09-03 19:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | charon, coyote, ~complete |
log; charon and coyote
Characters: Henry Harper (obolos) & Tab Gallagher (withitshegoes)
Date/Time: Sunday, September 2nd after this.
Location: Henry's houseboat.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Herny is feeling overwhelmed and hiding under his covers, so naturally Tab breaks into his house.
Originally, Henry hadn’t been completely serious about his comparison between real life and Marvel comics. There was always some suspicion in the back of his mind that something like this could happen, but so far he had been able to convince himself that is was just a slightly unhealthy dose of paranoia. Of course the United States government wouldn’t do something so drastic. That kind of thing happened in other countries, no America. Maybe. Possibly. Some of those politicians were saying strange things lately. The news about politicians wanting to take steps against him hit him like a ton of bricks and suddenly, his small worries didn’t seem so ridiculous. While he tried to keep calm, Henry soon found himself wanting to crawl under the covers and hide. He wasn’t about to be subjected to tests and involuntary confinement again in this life. He wasn’t going to be some thing for them to study, not again. It didn’t take long before he made good on his thought to crawl under the covers, complete with pulling the covers over his head. It was safe here. Clearly, none of these awful politicians could get to him if he just stayed here. ~ When Tab arrived at Henry's front door, she didn't even bother to knock - didn't pass Go, didn't collect $300 - just busted out a hairpin and picked that nonsense with a businesslike efficiency that probably should have been vaguely morally troubling. But there was something inherently soothing about ending a day with a little breaking and entering - and it wasn't as though he hadn't been informed that she was on her way. So she refused to feel bad about some largely harmless lawlessness. (And she'd locked the door behind her anyway, so any damage caused was already fixed. Problem solved. No harm done. Ends justify means. Moving on.) Her stride down the hallway was purposeful - heels producing a heavy thunk as they rebounded off of the wall and shirt following after them with far less fanfare - rap on his bedroom door perfunctory and not causing the slightest hitch in her step. Her head cocked to one side as she regarded the pile of blankets and Henry, lips twitching up softly, “You gonna budge over, huh?” ~ Despite not reading her comment, he strangely knew it was Tab. His houseboat wasn’t exactly a luxury model, so Henry was pretty damn confident that no one was breaking into it. Plus, if it was an actual crook they probably would have just broken a window and not actually taken the time to pick the lock. (Thank you for locking it though.) Pulling the covers back so one eye could be seen, he took a good glance at Tab before pulling the covers back. A moment later the lump on the bed scooted backwards until it was almost against the wall. Then the other end of the comforter popped up so she could climb on into the bed. ~ “There you go,” she chirped, proceeding to tumble herself into the available space and launch a one-woman campaign to tangle a maximum amount of limbs together in the shortest amount of time. (A general note: It was, more likely than not, a very successful campaign. She bit and was not at all above unfair and manipulative tactics.) “Blanket-fort, then? Sensible plan, sweetcheeks. Very nice in here - definitely like what you've done with the place.” The babbling was generally meaningless. Words were space-fillers. To be entirely honest, she wasn't strictly paying attention to what was coming out of her mouth, as she was currently far more concentrated on wriggling fingers at his sides and snaking her hands under the back of his shirt for maximum amount of skin-on-skin contact. Touch was just how a person did comfort. Which pretty much summed up how he ended up with her nose wedged up under his chin, fingers skipping out lazy patterns along his spine and one leg casually tossed over his. More touching clearly meant more comfort. (Like Moore's law, just with less application of integrated circuits and more snuggling.) She nudged the edge of his jaw with the tip of her nose, short nails catching lightly at skin in a manner meant predominantly to capture attention, “You okay?” ~ Actually, a more sensible plan would to build a combination of a blanket and pillow fort. Or take his houseboat to the ocean and set sail for who knows where. The latter was actually seeming like a very valid option at the moment. If he was in international waters, he clearly couldn’t be registered. Henry didn’t say anything as she plastered herself against him, nor did he even more. For those few moments, he was perfectly still and was just concentrating on the smell of her shampoo. Then she spoke. While he knew the answer to her question, he didn’t quite feel like answering it or even discussing the events of the day. Instead, he moved his arm so it could finally snake around her and pulled her against him to close any gap that may have been left between them. ~ See, now that was innovation. And innovative, young minds were meant to be nurtured and cherished and shit in a manner not at all related to government testing and regulation. The sail-setting, however, would probably need to be a little better thought out as a plan. Not discounting it entirely or anything, just - there were supplies to be thought of and serious questions about ship-to-shore phone service to be taken into account. “Yeah,” she agreed, pressing a very diplomatic kiss to the seam where jaw ended and neck began and allowing herself to be tugged forward with a pleased sort of sound. She had absolutely no objections to full-body contact and no problem with making the fact public (for a given value of public) knowledge. Tab smiled against his skin, “Well, I’m gonna tell you a story. You just lie there and be regaled. And don't laugh at me if I do voices.” It was sort of silly, yes, but that was what her momma did and if her momma wasn't the leading authority on what to do in any and all foreign situations in Tab’s worldview, then she really didn't know who was. You told stories when someone you loved was tired or sad and happened to be located in a bed-shaped area. So she’d story-tell - all quiet-like - and press all of the words into his collarbones like they'd sink in somehow. “That night,” she said, the words worn-out and well-remembered. “Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind …” |