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peopletalktome

general logs (☔)(☕)

Aug 01, 2020 12:50

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Comments 15

maybe in time you will wake up to find you're free worksmart February 1 2010, 19:56:14 UTC

Apartment 1616 is easy to remember, and this is the second time Chase has visited in a week. The first time was invited, or at least pre-warned: he'd stopped by to offer corporeal proof that he was back in the city after taking a sudden leave of absence right in front of her. It hadn't been heroics at work when he pushed her out of the way, not really. The self preservation instinct involved in trying to get himself out of the path of a speeding juggernaut had only expanded to include her and, in the end, not taken him quite far enough. But he'd been tired when he got to her apartment that day, worn down with fear and lack of sleep, and his relief to be home tempered by a first job of cleaning up the bloodied witch who'd brought him back. He'd found some energy to fake for her, but he hadn't stayed long ( ... )

maybe in time you will wake up to find you're free peopletalktome February 1 2010, 21:46:52 UTC

The first day Robert Chase showed up to apartment 1616 in building 7, Emma Pillsbury was cooking, which wasn't so unusual because since arriving in the City she has occupied herself thoroughly with the productive and rigorous repetitions of cooking and cleaning. Likely, when she opened the door, the good doctor got a whiff of fresh baked bread and soup on the boil. Likely, when she opened the door, he saw her expression--transparent as it is often guilty of being--shift through a handful of things, mounting themselves on a modest platform of worry and simply not knowing what to do while definitively knowing she probably couldn't help. An unpleasant combination to be sure. Likely, she asked him if he needed anything anyway, but not wanting to keep him, able to spot a person who has been ready to go home--or what constitutes as home for him here--a mile down a dusty highway. Likely. And when he left, Emma stored the soup in efficient tupperware and the bread in a ziplock bag before retiring to her bedroom without eating any of it, the ( ... )

maybe in time you will wake up to find you're free peopletalktome February 1 2010, 21:47:15 UTC

It is normalcy that she craves, and in a way that isn't so different from what she has wanted in Lima, Ohio--an ideal of normalcy, granted, and well she knows it, but something of a basic expectation all the same. There is nothing wrong, she feels, with wanting love, wanting a family, wanting to not be alone, but she finds it ironic to find herself here--wherever here is--where there are hundreds, perhaps thousands more inhabitants than the small town she dropped in from, all strangers, all open doors to places she is ninety-nine percent certain she doesn't want to go. Opening her own front door, of course, does not fall under that category...well, not today ( ... )

maybe in time you will wake up to find you're free worksmart February 5 2010, 09:10:33 UTC

"Hi," Chase fits that and a smile into the space between her greeting and the question. The door has opened onto a bright room, sunlight filtering in yellow and green through the curtain and around its edges, because although the air is crisp outside and the sun is pale, it's cloudless and could almost be mistake for summer if the mistaker is smart enough not to take their coat off. Coldness is out of season, to Chase, though he's spent four summers as New Jersey winters and would like to think that he's used to hemispheric shifts by now ( ... )

Thread 5

facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy worksmart June 27 2010, 22:10:57 UTC

"Emma?"

He calls though the door, first, not wanting so much as the sharp rap of a knock to test her nerves further along the edge of the precipice they must be on. He doesn't know if he believes Sylar on the detail of what might be behind this door, what happened between them earlier that day, on his innocence in it, but he believes the alarm wasn't raised without cause.

Two knocks, gently, against the wood.

"Emma, it's Doctor Chase. I'm just here to see you're okay."

This weekend, with the problems stacking up like a line of tipped dominoes, he doubts anything is going to be as simple as that.

facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy peopletalktome June 28 2010, 01:52:06 UTC

The redhead looks perfectly well coiffed today, as ever, as always. Her clothes are impeccable as are her shoes, as is the way she folds her hands, as is the state of the living room coffee table and everything around and under it. Earrings. A soft, sleeveless white blouse with a soft scooping neckline that would show bruises if there were any left to evidence what had happened, but there is nothing. Nothing at all. Well, nothing except what happened when she tried to sleep, when she turned onto her side and closed her eyes not expecting slumber to actually come only to have it heralded by a hundred kinds of shadows she can no longer recall as she is now, standing, straightening a pile of color-organized books until it is perfectly at ninety degrees of an angle. She can't focus on anything but she must focus on everything. She can't move but she can't stay still. Her heart won't calm and she must chalk this panicked nature up to something else over and over again with only a surface success ( ... )

facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy worksmart June 28 2010, 04:03:01 UTC

Of course his eye is trained to check for the physical. The flawless porcelain of her throat is only one checkpoint as he searches for outward signs of trauma, and it's only faintly surprising to find nothing there. She regenerated, Sylar had said, and Chase knows Claire. He knows a girl blasé enough about her abilities that she jumps off buildings to prove a point, but even for Claire there must have been a time when it was new, and she was afraid ( ... )

facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy peopletalktome June 28 2010, 04:40:15 UTC

She can't accept what has happened first and foremost because she does not know how to deal with it and it occurs to her that she shouldn't have answered the door after all even if she isn't altogether certain as to why. It is the same feeling as a splinter slivering its way under the skin, there, impossible to avoid, but slow to get properly stuck. Worse than a splinter, of course, but there aren't as many subtleties she can parallel to ( ... )

Thread 6

Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again. peopletalktome August 4 2010, 08:16:03 UTC

Emma Pillsbury is accustomed to the rush of new students and club days and the like. Emma Pillsbury is accustomed to the overall school setting in general. Emma Pillsbury rather likes it all too...well, almost all of it. As the school guidance counselor, the redhead sees all of the students at least once and many of them more than once, but she has for some time been seeing a great deal more repeat visitors from the classes of one teacher in particular. It is with this teacher in mind that she marches---as much as one can march when wearing perfectly coordinated turquoise t-straps---into the teacher's lounger ( ... )

Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again. vicodincrutch August 5 2010, 18:19:15 UTC

The donut, a delightful, diet breaking, sprinkle laden piece of pastry, is actually House's second. And that's on a need to know basis. In the teacher's lounge, he's built a small Shangri La made up of tabloids, coffee and donuts. He sits on the more comfortable chair with the cushion, his cane is laid over the table in front of him. One man taking up a whole table, as though that doesn't say enough about him already. He expects that this time away from the pubescent bags of issues and attitude to go uninterrupted. Why? Because he's Gregory House ( ... )

Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again. peopletalktome August 18 2010, 07:19:53 UTC

"Yes, I can see that," she says, distastefully too, t-straps still not budging, though the same can't be said for her head as she tilts it at him. She shouldn't be surprised anymore, shouldn't be this taken aback, but she finds every time she winds up in his corner, she is all of that---sometimes more. His self-importance reminds her of someone, or she thinks it does but constantly brushes it off in the face of what is actually there, or here rather. If she didn't have to put gloves on to do it and possibly industrially sanitize her hands anyway afterward, she would take that donut from him. It's not like he needs it anyway.

"I'll wait."

What translates of course is something not unlike you can't get rid of me that easily, and if she sounds a little pleased about it, well, Emma isn't above some return stubbornness and snark when certain buttons have been pushed one too many times. The students are vulnerable enough without someone so aptly taking them apart in the thick of it, and what's worse is she knows that he knows it already ( ... )

Oh, here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again. vicodincrutch August 24 2010, 05:01:56 UTC

House chews slower as though he were in a strange kind of time and space vortex. Something that echoed just how long and boring their exchanges were to him. Even more so he lifts the coffee slowly, slowly, s l o w l y. . . .

Why is she still standing there? As fun as it is to continue to annoy her, it may just be easier to unsheath his rapier wit, cut her down and go on with break as it was intended.

Those big Bambi eyes in there attempts at a furious stare only remind him that he should wash his hubcaps. Really, his whole car is filthy. Perhaps he should find a hanky of hers to use it with. Oh, clever. Something worth writing down.

House slurps down coffee and smiles at her. "Okay. Hey, any chance you have a pen?"