Malcolm Tucker (fuckitybye) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-01-23 22:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !plot |
Who? Malcolm Tucker & Sam Cassidy
Where? Sam's apartment.
When? Backdated to Friday evening, after the lockdown.
What? A totally healthy way of dealing with emotions.
Rating? Hiiighhhh.
Status? Closed, ongoing.
Malcolm knew that Sam was right- as a general rule, she was always right. She knew what was best for him, even when he didn't have a fucking clue. And he was stubborn, so often he fought her on it, but they both knew that it was just an act, that he would come around eventually. He just had to keep up appearances in order not to feel emasculated by her.
It had taken a great deal of effort to drag himself away from the prison where Grey was being held captive, but he was taking Sam's advice. What good was he doing banging his head against a metal door? He needed to calm down. He was at his most dangerous when he was feeling cool and collected, so that was what he would do. He would let Sam help him, he would get good and chilled out, and then they would figure out a new plan of attack.
The walk back felt like it took forever, and he was freezing to the bone now that night was settling in and the temperature had dropped. He was still carrying his bat, and Grey's broken bra was scrunched up in his other hand as if it were acting as a security blanket. She was going to be okay. She had to be okay.
He reached the apartment, and took a deep, shaky breath. Fuck it. She'd seen him in worse states before. He knocked and entered at pretty much the same time, as was usual, and gave her a forced, almost sheepish smile.