Timothy Pecker (alphamfoxtrot) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-01-21 18:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | face |
Who: Tim -> A Narrative
When: Upon delivery of this, perhaps around 2pm
Where: On the couch of Aubade 405 - Seattle PD - Halfway between the PD and Aubade - Aubade 405
What: Tim gets threatened, and then gets in a fight.
Warnings: A very frustrated, very angry, very protective Papa Bear
The past few days had been rather domestic for Tim, and he didn't mind too much about that. He and Harry were settling into a pattern and for the second time in his life, Tim felt like this could be permanent. That particular thought process generally lead to some uncertainty as far as his relationship with Harry was concerned, primarily because it reminded him of his relationship with Samantha. He usually shook those thoughts off, reminding himself that it was all in the past. So instead, he focused on the here and now. Harry and Poppy were his life now, and when Tim took the time to think about it, he hadn't pulled a job in a while. It hardly affected his lifestyle though; if he needed money he'd merely sell off some of his pieces. He gathered that if he were to sell all of his collected pieces, his wealth would be second only to Thomas Brandon III. More than enough to retire comfortably with Harry and Poppy.
That particular morning, Tim was checking his email on the couch, typing up a reply email to Poppy. She seemed thrilled with Europe, and, from her stories, seemed to be getting the hang of pick-pocketing. He was pleased to see her developing her thieving skills, but also pleased to hear that she was making friends. Poppy was a smart young woman, and he believed that forcing her to pursue a college education would do her good. Tim heard the shuffle of the envelope being slid under the door and brushed it off, focusing on sending off that email. Once he hit send, Tim got up and went to retrieve the small package.
Upon opening it, Tim was drawn to the pictures, at first believing them to be candid shots of Poppy on the streets. On closer inspection, he noticed the telltale signs of pick-pocketing and began chastising her in his head. Could she really be so stupid as to ask friends to document it? As he glanced through the photos a third time, with a critical eye, Tim realized only someone who knew what they were looking for could have snapped those photos, and it was obvious that Poppy didn't realize she was being photographed. Or followed from the look of it. "Shit," he swore. She was in trouble, or would be soon enough. Anger boiled up inside him, pissed off at the asshole who took the pictures and had the gall to send them to Tim. He picked up the letter next, taking his time to read it thoroughly.
A growl ripped from his throat as he read the letter. This 'stranger' had the balls to threaten Harry and himself on top of threatening Poppy and that didn't sit right with him. He stuffed the pictures and the letter back into the envelope and stormed out of the apartment, door banging shut loudly. He had only jeans, sneakers, and a wool sweater on as he made his way down the stairs and through the lobby. The few people in the lobby gave him odd looks, but anyone with half a brain could tell Tim was pissed off. He chose to walk, taking to the streets with the envelope grasped firmly in his hand.
At first, his feet lead him toward Seattle PD, but when he got to the door, Tim froze. What could he conceivably say? That someone had forged photos of his newly adopted daughter pick-pocketing? Bullshit. She'd get arrested by Interpol, extradited back to Seattle if she was lucky. And Tim? The adoption would get reviewed, possibly overturned. He might even get investigated, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. He must have stood in front of the police department for between ten and fifteen minutes before regaining his senses and turning tail. He walked quickly and purposefully away from the Police Department, accidentally colliding with another man.
"Hey! Watch where the fuck you're going!" the stranger exclaimed, and Tim shot him a dirty look and gave him a shove. In response, the stranger shoved Tim hard, causing him to step back a few steps.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Tim growled, shoving the other man back roughly, though because the stranger was wider and slightly more stout he was hardly moved. Angry at Tim's response, the other man threw a punch at Tim, striking against his jaw. It hurt like a bitch, and Tim let out a groan as his hand flew to his jaw, sore now from the attack. Enraged, Tim dropped the envelope and threw his own punch, which was sufficiently blocked. Tim struck out again, anger fueling his movements. He landed a few solid punches, but the other man clearly had the upper hand. He was about to strike Tim down when passer-bys intervened. They were pulled apart, and a young woman tried to look at Tim's nose, which had begun bleeding. Angry still, Tim brushed her and the other onlookers off, swiped the envelope, and made his way back to Aubade.
Tim attempted to think rationally as he made his way back home. It was clear that this needed to stay between him and this 'stranger'. To keep his family safe, things would need to play out according to whoever was pulling the strings. For now. He would 'play ball' as this stranger suggested, and attempted to subdue his anger. He would do what he could, and then perhaps help get this stranger arrested without sullying his or Poppy's reputations, or landing Harry in a psych ward.