Daniel "Danny" Ketch (vengeancespirit) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-03-03 00:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | danny ketch, sookie stackhouse |
Who: Danny Ketch and Sookie Stackhouse
What: Danny has a rough night, and bumps into Sookie while at a diner.
When: Sometime after dark, but not too late.
Where: A tiny little diner somewhere.
Ratings: Probably PG.
Status: In Progress.
Danny sighed, shoving tiredly through the doors and into a tiny little diner halfway between the club and home. He wasn’t physically tired, having gotten used to weird hours over the last few months with the Ghost Rider. Mentally, though? He was exhausted. He hated working at the club, but it was the quickest path to decent money legally and without too many questions. That had been important to him when he first got here, with the absolute psychological need to get the hell away from people before they started dropping dead, and deep down he knew that hadn’t really changed much. Yes, Buffy and Andrea had talked him into being a little more social, and yeah, he’d enjoyed coffee with Jessica, but there was still a very deep-seated fear of people he cared about dying because of him.
That wasn’t really the kind of fear you just got over with a couple kind words from friends, even if he wished it were.
But he was trying. Nights like these, though? He just wanted to get himself a bite to eat, go home, and drop into bed. It was one of these nights several weeks ago that he’d discovered this place. It was a little café, nothing fancy or pricey. Just good – if not entirely healthy – food and drinks, and good service. Plus, it seemed like people here were beginning to pick up on his moods, and when he came in looking particularly broody they knew to just keep things casual. Nights like these, he had too much on his mind to be good conversation.
Some of it was the stripping. It was the last thing he’d ever imagined himself doing, but these days he figured it was just one of the many sacrifices he’d have to make to the Ghost Rider. To his destiny as a Ghost Rider. Idly he wondered how many more sacrifices he’d have to make, but it was sort of a moot point. He’d make them all.
He didn’t really have a choice.
He sighed and glanced around for a table. He wasn’t really paying attention to any of the other patrons of the café. Usually he would have, but he’d had a particularly bad argument with his boss on the way out of work that night, and that along with the other issues he was contemplating at the moment kept him from really noticing anybody.
The Spirit of Vengeance, on the other hand, was working subconsciously to do what it usually did: Get Danny to go patrol. It wasn’t really a discernable voice to him, but that was only because he couldn’t really hear it that way. If he could, he’d hear a warped, whispered voice urging him to go hunt the wicked and defend the innocent. It was a quiet but persistent urging, one that he was ignoring for the time being.