InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Lemme hold a dollah"

Bob. (silent_bob) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-05-01 08:07:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 05, l lawliet, location: gas station, open, silent bob

Day 5: Late Afternoon
Who: Bob and open
What: Trying to catch some zzzz's
Where: the Not-Quick Stop
When: Day Five, Late afternoon
Rating: PG-13 for language to start
Status: Complete

I'm taking a fucking nap, Bob decided, looking around the fucking Not-Quick Stop for a suitable place. There were deep, dark bags under Bob's eyes and a weariness that went well past fucking annoyance. Bob was emotionally and physically exhausted and some shit. He'd been locked up in a fucking hole with Cheryl for a whole fucking day, and been chased by a fucking noisy ass something through the forest, and he hadn't fucking slept feeling like some shit was going to show up and eat him. That fucking noise was scarier than the fucking Golagatha any day.

The fucking sirens kept going off. Every single time he thought he got fucking comfortable they'd wail the fuck away. Trying to think of an insulated place, Bob decided to try the fucking cooler - it's not like it was fucking cold in there or anything. Taking off his jacket and bunching it up, Bob laid down on the cooler floor. With a deliberate sense of fuck me Bob jammed one side of his head into his coat-turned-pillow and wrapped his other arm over his upturned ear.

Bob was fucking taking a nap.

Fuck you, sirens.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

inmyownworld
2009-05-04 04:52 pm UTC (link)

In the past, it had been suggested that L was "not all there."

Maybe it was true. The detective was well-known for his disregard for conventions, and sleep deprivation did nothing to help his ability to control his already faulty moral compass. He had two successors: one was called Near, and the other Mello. Near was his analytical, practical side, and Mello was his emotional, chaotic and destructive side. What he had just done was certainly along the "Mello" spectrum.

Bob had thrown cans at him. He would bruise. It would hurt. And, even if the building was starting to catch fire, there was something wonderfully freeing about seeing "silent" Bob wailing. Starting towards the door, L quickly broke the glass on the fire extinguisher, neatly with the little hammer, and tossed it to Bob. Resisting the urge to salute, he made his exit as noninflammatory as possible.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -