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@govtdog ... starter call
" they have us in separate divisions for a reason, kennedy. " he leaned against the door frame, hands in pocket as he thinks of being anywhere else but here. is he even listening ? scott cleared his throat in an attempt to get leon's attention. " we have things to do. "
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"you shouldn't be here. you should not be here." ā @govtdog, as leon kennedy.
maybe it's reckless to stray from their plans, but mari's never been one to play by the rules. donning dark sparkles and shadowed liner, glossed lips and a pearl-white grin, she's hardly the face of guilt while immersed in such a crime. (diamonds and emeralds, artifacts and relics, their treasure sits at a finish line she feels she's already crossed. sue her for having a little bit of fun in the meantime.)
"anyone ever tell you that you have a s ā stick up your ass?" her voice contrasts the words, nothing more than a soft purr. fingers trail lightly over a nearby surface, inching closer. "get real, leon. we're basically already out the doorā" a tilt of her head. "and contrary to popular belief ... we're allowed to have a little bit of fun, every once in a while."
"you said i could have anything i wanted, but i just couldn't say it outloud." @govtdog says to mina.
couldn't say it outloud. wasn't that just the kicker of it all? standing here now, under the sickening glow of hospital fluorescents. mina wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or yell. how easy it was to feel as if she were still just a young girl, still stuck in natchez, yearning for that troubled boy who was close but somehow never close enough. nights laying in a truck bed and trying to make pictures out of stars in the sky, hands nearly touching but never meeting. mina's unable to meet his gaze, instead focusing her eyes on her hands that had been preparing to clean tools.
" you ain't ever tell me what you want, leon. i wouldn't expect you to start now. " she sighs softly, fingers turning on the tap to the morgue sink, watching the water hit bloodstained instruments, creating a swirl of red water down the drain.
hey hi!! āæ for clarice starling, joel king, hannibal lecter or john kramer? whoever you're vibing with the most, currently!
send me a āæ and iāll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i donāt want or cannot see.
sealed with a kiss ( accepting ) : ā buy me a round, rogue? seems like youāre just my type. ā / @govtdog
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā sheĀ fightsĀ aĀ scoff,Ā butĀ canātĀ stopĀ herselfĀ fromĀ rollingĀ herĀ eyes.Ā theĀ guyĀ sittingĀ downĀ nextĀ toĀ herĀ isĀ sandyĀ blonde,Ā intenseĀ eyesĀ andĀ handsomeĀ enoughĀ toĀ holdĀ herĀ attention,Ā soĀ sheĀ decidesĀ toĀ giveĀ himĀ theĀ timeĀ ofĀ dayĀ (orĀ nightĀ inĀ thisĀ case)Ā andĀ turnsĀ towardĀ him.Ā herĀ drinkĀ isĀ stillĀ coldĀ betweenĀ herĀ hands,Ā theĀ iceĀ clunkingĀ againstĀ theĀ glassĀ asĀ sheĀ raisesĀ itĀ toĀ herĀ lips.Ā takingĀ herĀ timeĀ withĀ sippingĀ onĀ herĀ sweetĀ andĀ tangyĀ drink,Ā anna-maieĀ gazesĀ intoĀ hisĀ eyes,Ā slightlyĀ rasingĀ herĀ browĀ atĀ him.Ā aĀ silentĀ question,Ā orĀ maybeĀ anĀ invitationĀ toĀ sweetĀ talkĀ herĀ aĀ littleĀ more,Ā sheĀ wasnātĀ sureĀ herselfĀ yet.Ā slowly,Ā sheĀ placesĀ theĀ glassĀ backĀ onĀ theĀ counter,Ā learningĀ forwardĀ slightlyĀ toĀ propĀ herĀ armĀ upĀ andĀ restĀ herĀ chinĀ inĀ herĀ hand.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āĀ justĀ yaĀ type,Ā huh?Ā yāsayĀ thisĀ toĀ everyĀ prettyĀ womanĀ yaĀ meet,Ā sugah?Ā āĀ sheĀ asks,Ā aĀ playfulĀ smileĀ tuggingĀ onĀ theĀ cornersĀ ofĀ herĀ mouth.Ā heĀ seemsĀ confident,Ā butĀ thereĀ isĀ somethingĀ beneathĀ theĀ surface.Ā itĀ intriguesĀ anna-marie.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā theĀ factĀ heĀ callsĀ herĀ rogueĀ suggestsĀ heāsĀ alreadyĀ heardĀ ofĀ herĀ before,Ā butĀ sheĀ hasnātĀ heardĀ ofĀ him,Ā soĀ thatĀ begsĀ theĀ question:Ā whoĀ isĀ he?Ā .Ā .Ā .Ā sheĀ hums,Ā eyesĀ refocusingĀ backĀ onĀ herĀ drink,Ā smileĀ stillĀ onĀ herĀ lips.Ā āĀ tellĀ meĀ yaĀ nameĀ first,Ā stranger?Ā whoĀ amĀ ahĀ buyināĀ aĀ drinkĀ for,Ā hm?Ā āĀ
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the weather outside is grey, turning greyer, dark clouds that were once scattered through the sky coming together in a dreadful sign of what is to come. there's a metaphor there somewhere, she thinks ā perhaps it is as good as they come for a descriptor of here, now, this meeting. rey's staring out at the window of his house, spacious and underfunished and yet still, somehow, full to the brim with all kinds of stuff she can't quite understand or pinpoint, that makes her feel welcomed and out of place, all at once. there's sentimentality there, she can tell ā perhaps that's why it makes her uneasy, as though she's intruding into a sacred space. her fingers curl around the mug, and she stares at the pitch-black liquid, weighing the words on her tongue.
it's all so much simpler over an e-mail ā all the self assuredness in her words, the shamelessness about sending one, two, three follow ups when the response doesn't come, or it comes, but it's not the answer you wanted. she can pester and ask and probe and collect all she wants, without the awkward silence cutting through the room with its sharp edge.Ā
Ėāā®ā ā ā RE. LEON KENNEDY. . . . ć @govtdog : ā Ā itās been years. iām not who i used to be.Ā Ā ā
rey looks at him, rain starts to fall outside, loud and angry and thunderous. there's a metaphor here, too, if she goes looking for it ā she doesn't. there's no time for that, anyway.Ā Ā Ā Ā ćĀ i'm not asking you to be that, i justā¦ Ā ćĀ she falters, the syllables in the words in the sentences too heavy for her to carry, the grief of an entire family weighing down.Ā ćĀ everyone lost something. there, because of them. whatever you want to call it. i justā¦ i'm tryingā¦ i need to make sense of it. Ā ćĀ a beat, she searches for his eyes.Ā ćĀ i know there's something there, and i know you know it. you don't have to tell me anything, justā¦ just show me.Ā Ā Ā Ā ć
@govtdog wanted smth small
" just sit down. have dinner. i promise i'm not trying to poison you. "
@govtdog called: i'm still glad you came.
they're knee-deep in soot and red-tinged grimeāviscera that sticks like gum to the soles of their boots. track marks scrape lazily through the sludge. chests heaving, they pant and lean back, arms loose and weapons drawn, gunmetal warm in the hands. the danger has been reduced to a truck-sized silhouette of rotting skin and a clump of mishappen teeth. in the absence of fleshy whistles and bestial whining, everything falls to an eerie quiet. they have a minute, at least, to breathe.
it hits like bile at the back of his throat, a thin chemical scent wafting between sweat and smog. arthur coughs once and the sound scratches out of him, echoing faintly around. warmth catches his shoulder before he even realizes he's leaning. leon has gone still beside him, eyes drawn to the mess they've made of the situation, but his body is tense and realāpresent, reliable in ways arthur has not often encountered. in the midst of it all, blood covered and sleepless, somehow the agent persisted. and the asset beside him feels himself fall into the quiet gravity that grounding presence. something still lived here. something survived. and it was standing right there, in the quiet, taking in the burden of survival.
they lean against each other, side by side, until the sun starts to dip behind the wrecked buildings around them.
by the time arthur's decided to move again, his joints have started protested with stiffness. he groans, stretching as the sockets pop and produce a wince from him. ā we have to stop meeting up like this. ā arthur says, voice thick from disuse. leon's response draws his eyes until the deep browns are staring into the other's piercing blue.
arthur swallows. the sincerity of the words hits his chest much harder than any blow could. he feels his pulse skip, breath releasing in a pent-up stutter. i was worried, he almost says. i wasn't going to leave you here. i would have done anything to protect you.
thoughts run amuck. there's a softness that starts to settle around his surprise, gentling the gleam in his eyes and the lines around his mouth. he shakes his head, though he's smiling when he finally looks awayāthe small, private kind of smile that almost feels like he's stolen something valuable that he doesn't want to give back.
ā yeah, well. ā arthur starts, kicking the ground despite the protest of his own legs. ā it was either this or the paperwork. and you know how much i hate paperwork. ā he grins, then gestures to the alleyway beside them, the dark shadows intimidating but better than soaking up the old infected blood pooling at their feet.
ā we should get going, don't you think ?? i don't want to be here when that thing decides it doesn't want to stay dead.ā
