Original -- Gabe
Title: Gabe
Rating: PG+ or a very light PG-13
Word Count: 346
Warnings: language, etc.
Summary: It was an interesting arrangement.
Author's Note: This sounded a lot cooler at nine this morning when I was writing it. ._.
GABE
One last long drag, and he tossed the cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under the treads of his toe, sending fibers of filter and tobacco scattering for their lives.
Gabe blew smoke skyward, watching it curl and twist, wispy filaments fading until just blue sky and storefronts remained. He hated the smell more than he usually let on, but silver linings had always ended to drizzle on him with gusto, so that was no surprise.
He figured, giving his wrist a practiced snap-half-turn that swung the rosary looped around it and made the crucifix jump into his hand, that he didn’t have long to live anyway.
Not long enough for regrets, at least, and certainly not long enough to bitch about the scent of the smoke that dogged him like some incorporeal Fury.
Gabe was a vampire-hunter.
It was kind of silly, when you thought about it.
The pay, the hours, and pretty much everything about it sucked, but so did the vampires if someone didn’t stake the shit out of them every now and again.
It wasn’t like Gabe was good at anything else anyway.
He had also lately begun to suspect that he was gay-which was slightly disconcerting on a series of levels, first and foremost the one cutting into his clenched fingers to remind him that God was his best and biggest ally around here.
Gabe turned his eyes plaintively skyward-sighing was too melodramatic even for him-and kicked at his abandoned cigarette butt. Littering was flashy, but it made him feel even worse about the state of the world, which was really saying something for a guy who killed the undead for a living.
It was an interesting arrangement.
He stooped, collected the detritus of his cigarette, and pitched it into the nearest trashcan, vaguely hoping the ashes had cooled down, and he hadn’t just created a fire hazard.
Fuck this. Fuck it all.
In addition to being a nicotine-craving vampire-destroyer with more than a few personal questions left pointedly blank, Gabe was what you would call a “cynic.”
Rating: PG+ or a very light PG-13
Word Count: 346
Warnings: language, etc.
Summary: It was an interesting arrangement.
Author's Note: This sounded a lot cooler at nine this morning when I was writing it. ._.
GABE
One last long drag, and he tossed the cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under the treads of his toe, sending fibers of filter and tobacco scattering for their lives.
Gabe blew smoke skyward, watching it curl and twist, wispy filaments fading until just blue sky and storefronts remained. He hated the smell more than he usually let on, but silver linings had always ended to drizzle on him with gusto, so that was no surprise.
He figured, giving his wrist a practiced snap-half-turn that swung the rosary looped around it and made the crucifix jump into his hand, that he didn’t have long to live anyway.
Not long enough for regrets, at least, and certainly not long enough to bitch about the scent of the smoke that dogged him like some incorporeal Fury.
Gabe was a vampire-hunter.
It was kind of silly, when you thought about it.
The pay, the hours, and pretty much everything about it sucked, but so did the vampires if someone didn’t stake the shit out of them every now and again.
It wasn’t like Gabe was good at anything else anyway.
He had also lately begun to suspect that he was gay-which was slightly disconcerting on a series of levels, first and foremost the one cutting into his clenched fingers to remind him that God was his best and biggest ally around here.
Gabe turned his eyes plaintively skyward-sighing was too melodramatic even for him-and kicked at his abandoned cigarette butt. Littering was flashy, but it made him feel even worse about the state of the world, which was really saying something for a guy who killed the undead for a living.
It was an interesting arrangement.
He stooped, collected the detritus of his cigarette, and pitched it into the nearest trashcan, vaguely hoping the ashes had cooled down, and he hadn’t just created a fire hazard.
Fuck this. Fuck it all.
In addition to being a nicotine-craving vampire-destroyer with more than a few personal questions left pointedly blank, Gabe was what you would call a “cynic.”