[for Sookie]

[whatdiesinside]

He's got it figured that he's been here a week, though he hasn't gone so far as to tally the days in a fucking bible.  A week in fucking dreamland, six days hovering around Eugene, wondering how he ever managed to walk away; two days without cigarettes; five days of rain.

Five days of trying to sleep through the sound of it on the roof, five days of

Comments

[justsookie]

Rainy seasons are not at all a novel concept to Sookie. What Louisiana fails to get in snow, it makes up for in downpours, the levels of the marshes rising until they're practically impossible to muck through- and frankly, most people don't even bother trying, especially when it's warm enough out for leeches to be a problem. After two months of practically endless sunshine on the island, however, she has to admit that the rain's taken her by surprise, and the slippery terrain of Tabula Rasa has her spending most days in the Compound, only heading back to her hut when absolutely necessary. Fortunately, she's petite and blonde enough to get away with sleeping on the rec room couch without people kicking her out. Most days, anyway

[whatdiesinside]

Going stir crazy in the barracks doesn't mean he's out here for company, and he knew better than to expect some kind of solitude in a place this small with the weather this bad--still, he thought he'd have a moment to himself before he has to pull it together and look for something to do with his hands now that his pockets are soaked shut and his cigarettes are gone

[justsookie]

The terse and defensive tone of the young man only earns him an arched brow from Sookie and a slight recoil- if nothing else, it reminds her of Jason on a difficult day, the sort that they never seem to have on the island anymore, now that they've both learned once again to appreciate each other's presence. With this stranger, though, Sookie can't afford half the patience that she normally does for her brother. "I was just tryin' to be helpful," she mutters, raising both hands and taking a couple of steps back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Still, her eyes linger over the young man's frame, over the large eyes that have him looking more like a boy than anything else, a boy playing at being a man with the clothes he has on. She can't be mad at that, not yet, with so little provocation.

"Bon Temps, Louisiana," she replies, tilting her head with a shrug of the shoulder. "You've got a Cajun accent, yourself- ever been?"

[whatdiesinside]

"That sounds made up." He sucks the back of his teeth and tastes the rain, the cold of it and it really is fucking freezing, standing in the vented air in his soaked clothes. He's going to catch a cold and won't that be the dumbest shit, sneezing and shaking in the tropics. "Maybe it's a new place, fuck if I know anymore; I'm from Jackson."

The towel is just soaking up the water from his shirt at this point, becoming another clammy fold against his neck and he pulls it away, rubs his arms with the drier edges and folds it up against his chest like something he can use to fend people off but doesn't really know what the fuck to do with. "If you've got some attachment to this exchange you can follow me down to the laundry; I don't really care to freeze my ass off standin' here."