#chaoticourier

@chaoticourier​ sent: ❝ i think i forgot what human contact felt like. ❞

“Isn’t so bad, huh?” The truth is, she’s lonely too. There’s some kind of hole that needs filling that she’s unsure of what it is. It’s why she squeezes his hand a little tighter like it’s reassuring. Just for one more moment. It’s not anything but a physical gesture, but for a little bit she feels a little less hollow.

@chaoticourier​ sent:  ‘ MY BONES NEVER HARDENED BUT MY SPIRIT DID ’

“Whoa, just calm down there,” he said, “I understand you, I do. You can talk to me if you want, just... Indoor voice. The walls here are paper thin.”

Cas sat on one of the beds in the old motel room. They had paid for a night, knowing the journey would be too long to complete in a day. It was far safer inside the motel’s walls at night; darkness could be good cover for camping out but hid so many dangers it didn’t seem worth it.

HE PEERS around the corner, unfamiliar face present as he glances at Preston & the General before back to the person whom he’s not been acquainted. He enters candidly. HE’S A COLONEL NOW, it’s prudent he make himself known given the circumstances and his presence in the Minutemen. He clears his throat upon entering, the General and Preston having gone back to their business as he approaches.

“My apologies for my tardiness. A supply run was late arriving to a settlement and I took it upon myself to CHECK IN.”

He’s calm as he speaks, posture firm and professional as he approaches, introducing himself with a staunch politeness not usually so firm of him under normal circumstances.

“I'm not really surprised that you murdered him,” Dorothy purses her lips a bit -- it’s clear she’s conflicted, but nowhere in that is she upset. Things in the Mojave are a lot less cut and dry than they are in NCR territory.

          his  sleeve  presses  to  his  nose  as  he  sniffles  ,  eyes  burning  with  the  threat  of  tears.  no  matter  how  long  it’s  been  ,  that  feeling  is  all  too  familiar.  frankie  wants  to  act  out  in  rage  ,  in  fear  ,  in  unadulterated  fucking  anger.  that’s  what’s  comfortable.  that’s  what  makes  him  fucking  feel  better.  tears  flowing  down  those  tattooed  cheeks  ?  NAH  ,  NOT  SO  MUCH.

          and  then  six  is  there  ,  standing  in  the  doorway  ,  and  frankie  has  to  suck  it  up  real  quick.  rapid  blinking  as  his  head  tilts  back  ,  to  fight  those  tears  ,  to  fight  it  all  back.  his  chest  is  tight  as  he  rises  to  his  feet  ,  rolling  up  the  sleeves  of  his  sweater.  crossing  the  room  to  the  other  ,  a  hand  briefly  rests  against  the  male’s  cheek.  ❝  yeah  ,  darlin’  !  ❞  that  faux  enthusiasm  ,  confidence  to  be  faked.  ❝  shit  ,  yeah  ,  everythin’  is  better  than  okay.  why  y’askin’  ?  ❞