Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
[Patrick was most confused. He had not expected to hear from Sue, and then he had been certain the conversation was headed in one direction, and then the fucking thing had u-turned without warning. He knew Sue had been poking at him at first, just as he knew he was not any good at not taking the bait. Newt had mentioned this about Destiny, and while Newt was not right in the particulars, he was not wrong in the sentiment. But, somehow, shit had turned itself entirely around, and Patrick was seated on the bed in the small cabin, Rufus at his feet, and he did not know what had just occurred. He felt like he had felt while listening to Webster discuss science, man. Dude was lost.
He looked up when he heard the rap upon the door, and he chuckled as Rufus bayed. He leaned down to scratch the old dog's scruff.] Come in, man. [He knew it was Newt. No one else knew where he was hiding out, and this was most deliberate. He had chosen this place because it was completely isolated. He could not hear the highways or the carnival, and the lights on Main Street were not even visible on the clearest night. It was the closest the dude had found to pure woods, and he was not giving out maps to his location.
The place was white and spartan; he had done nothing to make it his own. It was not roomy enough for company, and he did not intend to force Newt to feast within these small walls. Inside was, thanks to two spaceheaters, warm, and Patrick was dressed accordingly. The long flop of his bangs was even pulled back in a manbun, and dude looked like he had gotten some decent sleep. His hand was nearly black, which was unfortunate, but the rest of him looked significantly better than it had since the book. He looked up as the door was pulled outward.] Suspenders. [He grinned that comfortable, charming Gunster grin.] Your place or mine? [He nodded to the case, and he pulled the satchel with the stones from his pocket.]