Sid Jenkins (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} emo_underdog) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} vas_captio_rpg,@ 2009-04-25 00:04:00 |
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Who: Sid Jenkins and Logan
What: Arrival
When: Day Five, early morning
Where: In the forest to start
Rating: R, language
Status: Complete
It had been raining when Sid had curled up in that box in the alley a few blocks from Times Square. Somehow, it had seemed like a good idea at the time to leave Bristol for New York City to find Cass. He hadn’t really thought it through, though, and he really, really should have, he realized pretty quickly when he hadn’t had enough money for a motel room, was completely lost, and still hadn’t found Cass after a whole day of searching. His eyes opened slowly and he felt like hell. Since when did sharing a bottle of whiskey - with a hobo, no less; at least this one hadn’t peed on his leg - knock him on his arse?
“Bollocks,” he sighed sleepily, pulling his coat in around himself. His boyish features were drawn down in the ever-present kicked-puppy expression he wore like a pro even when he wasn’t trying. When he finally took a look around and really absorbed his surroundings, his brow furrowed and he sat up, tugging his skewed beanie down around his ears and over his forehead. Adjusting his glasses, he raised his eyebrows. Trees and dirt? Well, the dirt he supposed he could understand but what the bloody fuck were trees doing in Times Square?
That was when it hit him. He wasn’t in Times Square. Had he wandered off in a drunken stupor? Sid wasn’t even aware that there were forests in New York City - it certainly hadn’t been in the brochure - but this didn’t look the way he’d expected Central Park to look, either. Actually, he didn’t even know where Central Park was but he was pretty sure he’d have remembered walking that far, had he actually done it. “Shit,” he sighed and got to his feet. In the process, he kicked something and looked down quizzically before bending to pick up a small box. “Vas what?” he read aloud, looking confused and slightly annoyed. Americans spoke English, didn’t they? He was almost positive they did, even though he’d come across his fair share of foreign languages walking the streets of Manhattan and trying to get the attention of passers by to show them Cassie’s picture. This, though, was most definitely not English. “‘Go get her, Sid. Go find Cass, Sid. It’s meant to be, Sid. Get on the plane, Sid.’ Twats,” he muttered. "Chelle! Tony! Right, you're hilarious, you can come out now!" he snapped.