#tripledshot

The last time he slept? Guess that depends on her definition of it. He suspects she means something pulled from a set of I Love Lucy: reading glasses and peeling off a velvet robe before lights out. Leon can't exactly say he's ever deluded himself into thinking he'll ever attain that chapter of domesticity, but the couch in his office is comfortable, if a little lumpy; his jacket, when balled up, makes for a right enough pillow in a pinch.

Something tells him Sherry wouldn't consider a hurried breakfast grabbed out the door---one Granny Smith apple and a baggy of turkey jerky---very up to par. "I'm not exactly the poster child for machismo, Sherr. No need to twist my arm."

If she was expecting him to put up a fight, he's sorry to disappoint. Leon stands from his seat at the desk, shuts off his monitor and sends a half-finished field report spinning into oblivion. Outta sight, outta mind, or so the saying goes.

Man's gotta eat, right?

unprompted   //   always accepting .

                        @tripledshot​ ❤’d.

@tripledshot​  said     :     “ i push everyone away, but in a way, i am doing them a favor. ” / meme ( accepting. )

Constantine Starters

  She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s not the bright-eyed, small-smiled child who needed the story watered down and the hall lights left on. He and Claire told her everything she wanted to know throughout the years, taking even the more uncomfortable questions to heart and answering them as honestly---as gently---as they could. 

  He thinks she liked when they told stories, too. Not the kind of fairies and witches, but the ones where heroes caught the bad guys the monsters got locked up and came out healed and cured of their darkness. She liked tales of family and loyalty and heroes finding every sort of discoverable love she could think of. 

  Leon can’t say for sure if she found all of them, but some? When she, asleep, curled up beneath bedroom covers and clutched a stuffed rabbit, frayed and hug-worn. The day she’d discovered a ladybug tucked behind the petals of a daisy after rainfall. The first time Sherry looked herself in the eye in the mirror and forgot to flinch. The Muller kid and the way her eyes light up around him; Leon’s gotta guess he’s his own can of worms and stomach butterflies even Claire’d take a while to unpack. 

    After everything, you’d think she’d have learned: if God didn’t demand to be implicitly felt or seen or held to exist, then neither did love. Some argued they were one in the same. If God was indescribable, then how could anyone dare to put parameters around love---or decide who was or wasn’t worthy of it?

   Whether Sherry believes in God or not has no affect on his own faith. Whether Sherry believes anyone loves her or not doesn’t stop the fact that someone does. Jake Muller does. Claire does. And of course, so does he. More than anything.

 “Be easy to say God loves you. But how often does He pick up the phone?”