Re: [Woods: Patrick & Raven]
Patrick was never flat, man. He was a hyper dude. Con had gotten him involved in sports as a kid, which had ensured the rambunctious child was exhausted enough at the end of the day to sleep, but none of that made Patrick flat or calm, dude, and there wasn't any calmness in the expression or the limbs of the man standing there, pondering. This was some messed up crap, and using his badge wasn't going to help this chick. He could call it in. He should call it in. She was a disoriented, nonverbal woman, and she was wandering in the woods. Hello! This was what the phrase 'calling in' was made for, but Patrick couldn't help but think it would rock her world in a supremely heinous way.
There was something about the way she looked at him that cemented his thinking that she understood some of what he said, even if she didn't comprehend all of it. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse, man, because someone who didn't get it wouldn't be scared if he called someone to get her. He ran his hands through his blond hair, the gesture one that was old and well-worn. Man, what to do? What to do? He scuffed his feet against dead leaves. He even paced a little bit.
"Don't bob your head when I'm thinking, dude, it's distracting," he chastised, but it was bitten out in frustration. Man, man, Patrick just wasn't used to working things out for himself. Even her eyes widening at the starburst of his fingers didn't make him laugh, and Patrick was a laugh waiting to happen, dude. Serious shit was not for him, and he wanted to help the world, all right, that was true, but his shoulders were not made for heavy yokes.
He stopped moving, fidgeting, long enough to follow the flip and flow of her hands and fingers. "Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooookay, what does that mean? Look, do you know Con? Man, everyone knows Con. She's my sister, and she's good with people. She saves my bacon constantly, my dude, and it's better to call her than to call the police, all right? Greyson is a cool dude, he's a deputy, but Con's better, since you're a girl." He groaned. "Was that shit sexist?" He ran a hand through his hair again. "That was probably sexist." And for no good reason, he mimicked her hand-finger jive. Maybe it would keep her serenely chill while he solidified his intensely un-solid plan.