For slidellra
Number Six - Whimsy/ Reality
Fraser chases after things. Chases after things worse than Dief. This, Ray has gotten used to.
What he hasn’t gotten used to is the kinds of things that Fraser insists on following (although the driving-a-flaming-car-into-the-lake on the first day they met should probably have been a clue). Gold hungry leprechauns? Check. Dogs that Diefenbaker apparently insists are werewolves? Check. Voodoo doctors, plus or minus their very dead, very stinky zombie henchmen? Check, check, check and check (Ray hates cuffing zombies. Bits always drop off).
Breath rasping in his chest as he follows along for about the millionth time, Ray stumbles around the corner in time to see Fraser and the suspect he was chasing take a dive off the roof of a building. After a very long three seconds, the suspect lands-in seven separate pieces-on a large pile of cardboard boxes (another zombie, then. Greatness). Fraser backwings to a graceful landing just in front of the boxes.
Ray bites down on his tongue, shakes his head and lines up the zombie confinement incantation behind his eyes. One of these days, the damn fool isn’t going to winch out those wings in time and Ray’s going to be left picking up the pieces.
He isn’t looking forwards to that day.
Fraser chases after things. Chases after things worse than Dief. This, Ray has gotten used to.
What he hasn’t gotten used to is the kinds of things that Fraser insists on following (although the driving-a-flaming-car-into-the-lake on the first day they met should probably have been a clue). Gold hungry leprechauns? Check. Dogs that Diefenbaker apparently insists are werewolves? Check. Voodoo doctors, plus or minus their very dead, very stinky zombie henchmen? Check, check, check and check (Ray hates cuffing zombies. Bits always drop off).
Breath rasping in his chest as he follows along for about the millionth time, Ray stumbles around the corner in time to see Fraser and the suspect he was chasing take a dive off the roof of a building. After a very long three seconds, the suspect lands-in seven separate pieces-on a large pile of cardboard boxes (another zombie, then. Greatness). Fraser backwings to a graceful landing just in front of the boxes.
Ray bites down on his tongue, shakes his head and lines up the zombie confinement incantation behind his eyes. One of these days, the damn fool isn’t going to winch out those wings in time and Ray’s going to be left picking up the pieces.
He isn’t looking forwards to that day.