Mark Warwick / Jack Harkness (callmecaptain) wrote in ourtrueselves, @ 2009-07-11 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | layla house, mark warwick |
Who: Mark Warwick and Layla House
What: Another reincarante needs a little help
When: Morning time
Where: His apartment, Lower Manhattan, New York
No more than two at a time. Take with water. Caution: May cause drowsiness.
"I damn well hope so," Mark murmured to himself, and there was nothing that was going to convince him that anyone in the world was stupid enough to need such a warning on a bottle of sleeping pills.
Once again, he left them unopened on the bathroom cabinet as he headed back into the bedroom to dry off from his shower. Maybe one of these days he was going to actually take one, but for now he had them 'just in case'. He didn't have a problem with actually sleeping - that was, in fact, the easy part. But it was the best he could ask for at the pharmacy in the hope of getting an easier night, because dropping it into conversation - no matter how subtly he couched the terms - that he wanted something to cure increasing visions of a made-up persona he'd only ever briefly heard about, was always going to raise suspicious eyebrows.
Not least when the persona happened to be a time traveller from the future who had received the highest marks of flattery and charm when in Hero Training, he of few embarrassments but fine taste in military greatcoats...
With any luck, waking up in the morning like he had for the past days feeling alarmed and amused in equal measure was going to be the worst of it. The whole hero vision thing - the saving the world and getting the man - screamed of an ego the size of which he'd never possessed. That, or some desperate subconscious fantasy, and it was so not the time to be having a mid-life crisis in disguise.
If he was to start letting this get to him while he was at work - under the management of a boss whose level of stringency was at a degree where he wanted every paperclip accounted for and the meagre shopping budget triple-checked for a cent over the allowed amount - then he stood a very strong chance of developing negative attention that would complicate his life infinitely. He was unlikely to get another job position in the city if he got fired now, and he couldn't afford to move states. Not again. He'd be happy the day his nightmares were solely back to the stuff of carbon emission limitations and workman compensation suits.
Attempting to shove those thoughts down, hard, he finished up in the bedroom, and managed to fumble on a pair of boxers as he dodged back into the bathroom. He made the most of his limited morning time by brushing his teeth at the same time as he began to search around the living room for the measurement specifications he needed to take to the office. Getting to work on time was one crisis he could deal with.