| [closed to young!stonewall] |
[Apr. 8th, 2008|09:52 pm] |
Spairn had nearly sicked himself when he'd finally come to the realization that this younger and less female version of Stonewall was in fact who he said he was, and this wasn't a joke. But sometimes even in such a surreal world as this, he still managed to find himself doubting what all the facts pointed to without a little more solid proof. He needed that solid proof.
What a way to push his melancholy on its ass for the month, right? He was shaped up, shaven, wide-eyed and full of anticipation as he took the steps four at a time through the stair well, breathing hard by the time he reached the floor he was addressed to.
God in heaven, his hands were already shaking. Why was this man's name James? Why was he so young, and where did he come from? Was this a possible key to pieces of his life he never knew? Spairn would never use a person for information, but perhaps if he made James understand.. anyhow.
There was a small knock on the door when he found the correct number, and while he waited for the kid to answer he found himself shifting from one foot to the other, awkward in his own body as he pushed the hair from his eyes and smoothed his t-shirt down like he was about to go on a sodding date, or something quite like it. |
|
|