howl at the wind rushing past my lonely head [gates]

[napalmsmile]

Today is a day when this was the last place he wanted to be, opening the door to what should be his workroom and instead it's this again - Stefan has always been convinced the universe has a sense of humor and it operates specifically at his expense, but this is like something out of a Beckett play

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[knowhowitfeels]

"Harry, I needed this--fuck!"

Gates looks about as pleased Stefan. She's got her reading glasses and her hair in a ponytail, sweats and a sports bra, and there are bruises blooming on her ribs (her lip is almost healed, but...not quite). In her hand? Paperwork, the bane of everyone's existence.

"Well, that's fucking brilliant, and what a warm welcome, too!"

[napalmsmile]

Stefan will doubtless notice all of those details later, when he is not kicking the shit out of the poor innocent door with every ounce of strength he has in this particular form (less than it might be otherwise). Steel-toed boots will do a lot of damage - he learned early on to wear those - and the door splinters, cracks....and reforms like nothing had happened.

There's pretty much no other word for that sound but a snarl, and he knows he has to be more careful than this - Laurel would never approve - but he's in the grip of something much bigger than he is, and it's just...lucky it's only a door on the other side of that.

[knowhowitfeels]

Gates lets the papers slap against the bar, but she doesn't sit down. She watches him, and her irritation isn't going anywhere...it says something about things she's not thinking about that it doesn't, that she's still frowning, that she hasn't started smiling and making really bad, off-colour jokes.

"And its mother too, I'm sure."

...okay, well, so that was half true.

[napalmsmile]

Eventually he....calms down, the door is really, really not going anywhere and these fits pass like phases of the moon, brightdark anger slipping under ice until he turns away from the door (which is still fine :D) and scrapes his hair back from his forehead with both hands, still looking like he'd be a lot happier if something was dead. Just...being Proper about it. As has been pointed out elsewhere.

"There's no reason to drag anyone's mother into this." ...oh hi. So, nothing happened the other day, right? ...Right, stop staring at her lip. "This between me and the door, which as you can clearly see is moonlighting as a prop from Waiting for Godot or maybe just a really bad sitcom."