Okay, Pyth, fine. You win. Enjoy. :P
Gabriel Gray conducted all of his life through certain... neccessary masks.
Now he is used as one by the man who used to be him.
Mending little watches, polishing up other people's tired old trinkets, is no longer satisfying even in the small and pedestrian ways which he used to accept. But it's still neccessary. So many things are, if he is to ( Read more... )
Now he is used as one by the man who used to be him.
Mending little watches, polishing up other people's tired old trinkets, is no longer satisfying even in the small and pedestrian ways which he used to accept. But it's still neccessary. So many things are, if he is to ( Read more... )
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And - distracted, muttering inaudibly to herself, carrying a massive cardboard box that clinks and ticks and whirrs and clatters, in tumbles (in stumbles?) Darla Wood, who honestly does talk like that, most of the time.
"Ah--" she calls, shrugging one shoulder in a desperate, failed attempt to get her hair out of her face. "I have this--" Clank-tink-tap-thud, the sound of a poorly held door hitting a decrepit sheet of cardboard and disturbing the veritable fountain of machinery hidden within. "--inheritance; my dad collected watches, and he's not a very good collector; most of them don't work anymore; he kind of died last week and, um, I really want them all fixed up? If-- God, look, there's probably more business in this fucking, scuse my French, box than you've seen in the past month combined; could you take a look and tell me which ones're salvageable? I can pay, really I can, I-- um-- hello ( ... )
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It's an interesting and mildly maddening fact that, possibly for the first time since the shop was built, the huge oak workdesk has been moved a few careful inches towards the south wall. Blood, especially in the copious amounts in which his floorboards were soaked, is one of those tough stains, and his eyes could still pick out one or two droplets that stubbornly survived his scrubbing. For the same reason, subtle shifts in drawers around the window have lowered the already-low light level to a surprising extent.
He quickly lets go of the mug. Doesn't sound like she saw it. (He recognises disappointment as well as relief.)
He stands. (Appears. Looms. Heh.)
"Hello."
...Ohdearlord. That boxful is actually painful to look at. Argh.
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