Repose

[Locked to Naila a-K]
[In Arabic.] Aunt.

[She goes way waaaaay back in her locks, trying to find someone particular. In specific, someone she honestly believes has no idea who she is. (Oh boy, is she wrong.) At least she doesn't know who he is, so there's that.]

["Alexandra J"/"Mr. X"]
Yeah, yeah, it's been a long time, but privacy and all that. You don't happen to still be around on here, do you? No weird dark train rides that took you out of town permanently?

[Bruce W & Damian W]

Misha said there was something that happened at Louis' that neither he nor Louis remember, but they reacted poorly to it. Can either of you give me more information?

[After talking to the most idiotic and self-absorbed man on the face of the planet.]
[Phone Call: Atticus]
[Ring ring]

[Fuzzy timeline, after nightmares.] I'm sure you're very busy, and I know it's foolish. Just reassure me you're safe?

[Locked to Connie G]

Dude, Con, you must do me the most solid of solids.

[Locked to Atticus M]
Do you have a moment?

Who: Rory & May
What: Odd Couple
Where: May's
When: Currentish
Warnings: None



[In the weeks since he'd turned up on May's doorstep beaten and bruised, things had been quiet for Rory. He'd kept to himself for the most part, investing very little time in the forums and even less time in the local bars. The mystery of the facility where he'd been contained for all those months was still very much a mystery unsolved, and Rory had a less than keen interest on sticking his neck out for a choke chain to drag im back there. One night, when the moon was high, the hound had gone sniffing around his old motel room and found the place newly inhabited, notably absent of the scent of gun oil or whiskey or himself. All of his things were gone, likely pawned off by the shit hole's owner. And sure, he could have gotten mean and gotten answers, but it seemed smarter to lie low until he knew more about the science/military/what-the-fuck-ever facility across town.

So Rory, begrudgingly, did not eat the motel owner on that night. He didn't frequent his old bars. He didn't go anywhere or do anything unless it was a night when the moon called his hound self out to play. Sobriety and boredom didn't sit well in the soured old stomach of a washed up Irishman. The party had been a nice distraction, but now he had a renewed interest in going out among the town. It made him clench his back teeth most nights, and he was a bitter asshole on most mornings.

Needless to say that May and himself had learned to avoid one another whenever possible in the small cottage where Rory was currently taking up space in a back room. This was more Rory's design than May's, although she seemed to get the hint and let the hound be. He kept quiet and he kept clean, he might as well have been a ghost living alongside her.

So this morning was a rare sighting when Rory, scruffy in boxers and a black beater that showed off the Celtic cross tattooed in ancient ink on his arm, walked out of the back work room and into the kitchen. The little cottage was quiet when he began to ransack the cupboards for a cup and some tea.]