Repose

[Locked to Patrick G & Dick G]
Gunster, Greyson, I'm [...] Sheriff Simms. Do either of you know if there's a holiday party planned for the dept. at all?

You have to know what this is about, at least a little, right?

Who: Jude C and Daniel W
What: Vampires
When: Current
Warnings: Crazy?

Whether it was Christmas savings or good cheer to all men without healthy greasing of the cheerful passages with lubrication high in alcohol content, not known but Jude had cried off from the bar a good hour before closing given present company lacked things to do and there were plenty of them. Home then, please and thank you, in the rattletrap suicide-excuse for a car held together with faith, hope and a lot of tape. Smelled like a brewery just now, without the windows down (the desire not to be cold warred and won with the desire not to get merry off fumes alone) with the smell of booze and the bar, cigarette smoke and splashed beer gumming to his shirt. The night was quiet, thick black dark hung around the old house in the woods like virtual blanket and not a light was lit, which suggested Oliver was either elseways or not still painting. The windows were long licks of glinting black and so, alone then, heading in with a jangle of keys and the car left out-front.

The house was cold, but preservation of precious heat forever-and-always. A shower would heat things up considerably, but Jude's stomach rolled over with a growl that suggested demand rather than asking politely, and he ducked into the wide interior of a kitchen no doubt designed for staff rather than people. There was a wide island moored in the middle of the floor and not a table to be seen. Pizza boxes were stacked neatly by the door (ever the tidy one, Jude, always and forever) and the side was littered with implements for making tea, cereal and milkshake-powder from boy's own brother. Food then, and Jude rummaged in store-cupboard to retrieve apple and tea-mug, biting the apple to hold it conveniently between his teeth as he turned to stove-top to set down the kettle and proceed with gentlemanly art of tea-making. Showers could come after.

[The dog is big, but he's still technically a puppy. He arrives accompanied by his foster mother from the Great Dane rescue. The woman refuses to leave the dog in the post office's care, and she brings along a manifesto about the dog's issues. He has a knicked ear, some broken ribs that are nearly healed, and he's skittish and can show aggression when startled. Merry Christmas, Enfant Terrible.]

[It's not much. But this Santa has given all they can. A receipt for a $100 donation to Flash's chosen charity is tucked into a stocking. There's a card attached that simply reads "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!" It is sent via the USPS.]

I need to get Gwen out of the League facility soon. They're going to do oocyte extraction, which I had to google, and that's not happening. So we need two things - a way out, and something to keep them off her back once she's gone. Financials seem like the most basic option, nobody wants their cash stream exposed.

I don't know much about you. What are your interests?