DBY Bill, Nic

May 12, 2004 10:22

The morning after the party.He hadn't drunk, smoked, snorted, or otherwise ingested anything last night -- unlike most everyone else -- that could possibly still be lingering in his system, making him feel this good. In fact, there is every reason in the world not to feel this good, considering that he now has to move, his flat is the equivalent of ( Read more... )

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Comments 26

nic_stark May 24 2004, 14:56:41 UTC
Two espressos and three of the effervescent vitamin thingies in a glass of spirulina, and Nic is quite chipper, all things considered ( ... )

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billboyd May 24 2004, 16:38:59 UTC
"Nic," Bill says, and sits up straight. He frowns a little, trying to figure out the contraption Nic is toting. It seems to involve sticks and netting. "For the moth?" he asks, and Nic beams at him like he's a particularly bright pupil. It makes Bill want to roll his eyes; what the hell else would it be for ( ... )

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nic_stark May 24 2004, 16:55:30 UTC

"It's my own invention," Nic nods, "and improving suggestions are always welcome. I'm a biologist, not an engineer." As if to prove his point, Nic tangles the netting around his foot when he drops the base circle to the floor, and has to hop around to shake himself free. He doesn't look at Bill, because he just knows there's some sort of smirk there.

"So," he says when he's finally got a handle on the net, and can pull the top circle up, "did you have a good time last night? I sort of lost track of you after a while."

He doesn't say after the stonking good blow, because, well, it's unnecessary. But it's not entirely true, because even though Bill had been only peripherally available to Nic's consciousness, he'd been like an eye-twitch presence in the room, and Nic hardly ever admitted anyone else into his mental space when he was fucking ( ... )

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billboyd May 24 2004, 17:05:52 UTC
Bill glances around the office for a moment, thinking. He's got no place to go, nowhere to put this thing or the moths. He could take them to Keira's, he's certain, but he's oddly loathe to ask her. But his office space is big enough, and he can't see Johnny objecting ( ... )

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billboyd May 26 2004, 11:13:31 UTC
"It was--" he hesitates, because fun isn't exactly the word he would use for last night; of course, he'd done a lot last night that had nothing to do with Nic or the party, so he confines his observations to that quite consciously, "--interesting."

Nic arches a brow at him, a fairly blatant invitation to continue, and Bill shrugs.

"It wasn't what I'm used to," he says, which is mostly true. It isn't even the sex (although he's not used to that, either, exactly), because he'd spent three years undercover intimately associated with a crowd of people to whom the words moral and ethical meant very little, and he had seen his share of sex during that time.

The thing was, though, he hadn't really been involved in that. And he hadn't been involved last night, not really, but he sort of had been, too, because... well, fuck, it had been his girl Nic had been fucking ( ... )

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nic_stark May 26 2004, 12:05:16 UTC
"This place is not what anyone is used to, mate." Nic stands and claps Bill on the shoulder. "You just have to pick and choose the good bits, eh?"

He yawns, because the buzz of the Berocca has worn off, and he feels a bit limp from last night. Fuck knows everything he got up to.

"'m gonna go get some more coffee, Bill. And I'll stick the cocoon to a branch for you, but until later in the day when it's a bit cooler. D'you want anything out?

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billboyd May 26 2004, 12:15:19 UTC
"Nah, I'm good," Bill says. "What about Selma? If you're coming back here, you don't wanna make her endure another pointless car ride do you? I could put her in the filing cabinet. No one would bother her there."

That's for bloody sure. If there's a tarantula in the filing cabinet, no one (including Bill) could possibly need a file enough to open the fucking thing.

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nic_stark May 26 2004, 12:38:24 UTC
He sniggers. Bill was so fucking quick to suggest that, he knew the wanker was trying to get shot of his baby ( ... )

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