Hi. You've reached Eugene. I'm not here. I'll get back to you real soon.

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It's late afternoon, and Gene's alone in the rooms. The weak springtime sun filters in through the window of the kitchen, and it's warm, and he's alone. For that he's thankful. His body aches like it hasn't in months. Maybe he's thankful for that, too. PT had been grueling, and he'd thrown himself into it with a quiet determination that ( Read more... )

 Goddammit, is mostly what Gene's thinking as he comes home. It's late, a dark, cold, and unpleasant night that mirrors his mood. He'd not seen Babe since Babe had walked out of the conference room the day before - since everything had gotten fucked up. Since the whole situation had fallen down around their ears. Part of him had been expecting it.

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