- (sonrisa) wrote in repose, @ 2018-02-27 02:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, atticus mcvickers, janus allen, steve mcrory |
Carriage House, quicklog: Steve M & Janus A & Atticus M
[It was an hour or so of walking, but he didn't have a phone to get a car once he reached the edge of the forest. It wasn't that bad out, at least. Above freezing, anyway. Even if he was only in sweats and a t-shirt. Even if he didn't have any shoes. They could've given him some damn shoes.—Eventually, he didn't feel the ground under soles. He wouldn't get frostbite, he burned too hotly for that, so it wasn't a worry. It was mostly just annoying, like the twigs that snapped under bare feet and tried to bite into skin. Too, Steve was tired. It was a manufactured exhaustion. It was the tranquilizer that still sluggishly moved through his system, that made him stumble every few steps. He probably looked like a drunk on his way home from the bar, given the hour. Or, maybe, with the outfit, he looked like a man kicked out of his own home or something. It didn't really matter. It didn't bother him. People would think whatever it was they thought. He just wanted to get home.
He needed to talk to PJ. He wanted to see Atticus—last he knew, the man was turning into a wolf. And he'd hung up on the phone on Janus, he remembered now, with all the clarity of looking through a vaseline-smeared window. So there was a lot to do. On top of all of that, getting into bed sounded really nice, right about now. But, of course, he had to walk the main thoroughfare of town first, from where the road began, to where it nearly ended by the highway, a long, cold trek.
If he'd had any keys on him (he hadn't, he didn't think; not on him when he'd been picked up), they were gone now. So, Steve, at about three in the morning, stood outside the door to the Carriage House, and he knocked.]