A Mother's Love - Part Eleven
Oct. 8th, 2011 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsFace drifted back to sleep and Murdock took his chance to crawl out from under his friend’s body. He winced as he saw the damp, sticky patch on the front of his briefs and shook his head, when he’d chosen this much loved Superman pair to wear yesterday morning, he’d certainly never imagined he’d end up with Face’s spunk all over them. With one last glance to make sure Face was still asleep and that the door to the corridor was locked, Murdock slipped into the en-suite with his clothes and his phone.
__________________
BA walked back into the kitchen to find Hannibal in exactly the same position as before, untouched breakfast on the table next to him as he stared, unseeing, out of the window. He sighed, time for some tough love. “Okay, man,” he growled, and was pleased to see Hannibal jump at his voice. “You need to get yourself upstairs, smartened up and changed,” he took a deep breath, “an’ while you are up there you can pack a bag for Face,” Hannibal’s eyes were instantly on his, “we’re goin’ to meet up with Murdock.”
“Murdock?” Hannibal rose to his feet, “You’ve spoken to him?” he glanced down at his own silent and waiting phone, “Where are they? Is Face okay?”
BA wondered how best the phrase this. “They are in a hotel downtown,” he said slowly, “and the fool says that Face is... struggling... a bit.”
Hannibal frowned. “Struggling? What the fuck is that? What’s struggling mean, Bosco?”
“It means,” BA hissed through clenched teeth, “that your stupid stunt las’ night pulled the rug out from under him an’ now he don’t know which way is up!” Hannibal flushed, “That’s what I mean by struggling!”
His words had the desired effect and Hannibal looked down at the floor, shame etched across his brow. “So, will he see me? Can I talk to him? Explain?”
BA wondered what the hell there was to explain, but at the hopeful cast to Hannibal’s expression didn’t voice those thoughts. “I dunno,” he replied instead. “Murdock wants us to meet him in the corridor of their hotel so we can have a talk. He wants you there but he says that if Face don’t wanna see you, then you aint seein’ him. I said you’d be cool with that. Right?”
Hannibal nodded, fairly convinced that he would be able talk his way in to see Face once he was there. “So, what’s the bag for then?”
BA frowned, “The bag?” he queried.
“You said I should pack a bag for Face.”
The two men looked at each other for a minute and then BA sighed in sympathy. “Hannibal, man,” he whispered, hating to be the bearer of bad news, “he aint comin’ back jus’ yet.”
Hannibal sat down on the kitchen chair with a bump and stared blankly at BA.
________________________________
BA had called Murdock as he and Hannibal reached the hotel, and so he was waiting for them as the elevator doors slid open, edgily walking up and down in the hallway, eyes constantly flicking back to the door of his room.
Hannibal had been nervous on the way over, memories of Murdock’s words and voice and expression back in La Maison the previous evening fresh in his mind, the last thing he needed right now was another scene with the pilot. But he needn’t have worried, as he and BA stepped out onto the thick carpet, Murdock looked nothing other than relieved to see them both.
“Guys,” he breathed, eyes darting to the room and back again, “thanks for coming.” He turned to BA, “You bring the sleepy juice, big guy?”
“Yeah,” BA answered gruffly, “in your bag, man.”
“Sedative?” Hannibal said, his eyes going from Murdock to BA and back again, “What do you need that for?”
Murdock’s bloodshot eyes fell on BA, “You didn’t tell him?”
“Not all of it, no,” BA replied, clearly awkward with this conversation.
Sighing, Murdock turned to Hannibal. “Face has had a complete meltdown, bossman,” he whispered and Hannibal could see the pain and fear in his eyes.
“Meltdown?”
“Yeah. I aint never seen him like that, never. He’s been screamin’ and fightin’ and tryin’ to run and then cryin’ and wantin’ to hurt himself...” Murdock trailed off, just shaking his head at Hannibal.
There was a brief pause as Hannibal processed this information and then he sat down heavily on the chair in the corner of the hallway, head in his hands. Murdock and BA stared at each other, and then both looked down at Hannibal. “Bossman?” BA asked quietly.
He answered without looking up. “Oh, boys... it’s just, I’ve seen him like that before, years ago. And that was when he was let down by someone, badly. And now,” he shook his head again, “I’ve done it to him as well, hurt him just as much as she did.”
BA and Murdock traded glances again, both knowing what Hannibal was talking about; Face’s little foray into heterosexuality, his yearning to be a husband and father encouraged by Hannibal who’d felt he was holding his boy back. Something that should have been a few harmless weeks of experimentation followed by a mind blowing reunion, but actually turned into a ‘relationship’, eight months of Face falling harder and harder for Charisa Sosa, Hannibal acting more and more like a damn morose martyr, until that freefall ended with Face crashing head first into the ground with a engagement ring but no parachute and Hannibal scooping him up so fast that no one even saw him for over a week. Then he’d appeared again, back in Hannibal’s bed, usual smile on his face, usual devil may care attitude, but now Murdock and BA could picture what that missing week had been like...
Hannibal looked up, his eyes pleading, “Murdock,” he whispered hoarsely, “can I see him?”
Sighing, Murdock ran his hands over his face. “Look, boss,” he whispered, “I aint doing’ this to hurt you, right?” Hannibal nodded, “But I’m not pushing him into anything, that’s how we got into the mess in the first place an’ I sure as hell aint makin’ that mistake. He’s sleepin’ still, but when he wakes up, I’ll ask him. I’ll put in a good word for you, but that’s all I’ll do.”
Slowly standing up, Hannibal patted his arm, “Thank you captain,” he replied, “that’s all I would ask of you.”
Murdock bent to pick up the two holdalls from the floor and nodded at his team mates. “I’d better get back.”
Hannibal nodded and BA squeezed his shoulder, “Call us, man,” he whispered, “if you need us.”
Murdock forced out a tight smile and then turned back to the room.
He opened the door slowly, knowing that it was entirely possible to find just about anything going on in that room and peeked in, eyes taking a second to adjust to the dimness inside. The first things his eyes focussed on was a pair of scrumpled up boxer shorts on the floor next to the wall, it looked as if they had been thrown and Murdock slowly turned his eyes to the bed, dreading what he would see there.
Face was sitting on the end of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, his head in his hands and his red rimmed eyes on Murdock as he peered through the gloom. “Murdock...” he whispered, and the pilot guessed in an instant what had happened in his absence.
“Oh, hey, buddy,” he whispered, sliding in, closing the door softly behind him and dropping the two bags on the floor as he made his way straight to Face, dropping to the carpet at his feet, both hands resting on his bare knees. “You didn’t think I’d run out on you did you? Come on, Facey, surely you know me better than that? You know I’d never leave you.”
Face took a deep breath and Murdock could hear the shake to it; he squeezed both the knees under his hands. “I just,” Face cleared his throat and tried again, “I just thought, after what happened last night – this morning...” he scrubbed a hand over his stubble, “I just thought...”
“Face,” Murdock leant in, pushing his face right into his friend’s eye line, “stop that now.” Face stopped but wouldn’t look Murdock in the eye. “How many nights have you sat up with me in the past? How many nights have I been the one who’s lost a grip on myself?” Face didn’t answer. “How many times have you had to wrestle bottles from me? Razors? Drag me down off roofs and balconies and walls?”
Murdock paused expectantly and Face eventually shrugged.
“Yeah, exactly,” Murdock laughed darkly. “Too many to count. So I think I owed you last night, okay? Big time.”
There was a silence and Murdock watched as Face’s eyes crept over to the wall where he knew his boxers were laid. “But Murdock,” he whispered, “I...” and he trailed off, unable to complete his own sentence.
Leaning right in, Murdock put their foreheads together, sliding a hand into the curls at the back of Face’s head. “I know what happened, Face. I was here, remember? And I didn't do a single thing that I wouldn’t do again, any other time you need it. You got that?” Face pulled away and looked up at him, disbelief shining in his eyes. Murdock smiled at him and tried again. “You are my best friend in the whole world, the only person who really likes me for actually being me, crazy an’ all. I know you love Hannibal and I know he hurt you by being a jackass last night, and if that’s what you needed to make you feel better and get some more sleep and just feel that someone was there for you, then of course I would do that for you – I will always be that friend, Face. Last night, next week, next year. Whatever, whenever, that’s what friends are for.”
For a second neither of them moved and then Face leaned in again, dropping their heads together once more. “I am sorry though, HM, for putting you in that position, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking,” Murdock soothed, “you were just feeling, and if what I did made you feel a bit better, then I’m thrilled, I’m more than thrilled, I’m uber-thrilled, with sprinkles on, you get me?”
He felt the muscles of his friend’s face shift as he smiled and Face replied, “Yeah, I get you.”
Pulling back, he got hold of Face’s head with both hands and dropped a hard kiss right onto the crown of his head before shifting right back and smiling. “So, how about a shower and a change of clothes and then maybe we’ll go down and get some breakfast?”
Face’s smile disappeared and he shook his head slightly, “I don’t have any other clothes...”
“Problem solved!” Murdock leapt to his feet like a Cossack dancer and turned to the bags by the door. “Hannibal and BA just been over and dropped these off for us.”
What little colour there had been in Face’s complexion suddenly drained out and his eyes flew to the door, something very similar to fear flashing through them. “Hannibal’s here?” he whispered, “Now?”
“No!” Murdock hastily reassured him. “He’s been and gone, just brought your stuff over.” He narrowed his eyes at the ways Face’s expression had tightened even more at those words and tried to be fair to Hannibal in his explanation. “He wants to see you, he wanted to see you when he came over, but I told him you were sleeping and needed just a bit more time to sort things out. But he wants to see you, Face, to explain what happened, just as soon as you feel ready.”
Murdock’s explanation seemed to leech all of the energy from Face and he just turned, crawling back up the bed and back into the sheets. “I’m tired,” he muttered, pulling the towel out from around his waist as he yanked the duvet over himself, “I think I might just go back to sleep.”
Frowning, Murdock brought the bag over and put it at the side of the bed, “You don’t want a shower? Breakfast? Room service? TV?”
“Nah,” Face’s voice was muffled by the duvet, “I just wanna sleep.”
And sure enough, even as Murdock watched him, slightly confused at the sudden change in demeanour, Face’s breathing slowed and evened out and he slipped back into sleep.
_______________________
Murdock sighed and swung his legs, kicking his heels against the brick wall and enjoying the feel of the early morning sunshine on his face. It felt good, and precious little had felt good over the last four days. Four days... he shook his head. If he had known that Face would do this, retreat into his shell like a traumatised tortoise, then he would never have brought him here, would have taken him back to the house where Hannibal and BA might have had more luck in getting through to him. As it was, Murdock felt like a terrific failure. Since that first morning, Face had hardly said three entire sentences and just slept all the time, Murdock had managed to force bits of food down him, and was getting him to drink plenty of water only by threatening him with a drip, but he hadn’t showered or dressed or left the room or shaved or done much of anything really.
Murdock had tried to talk to him, had tried to convince him to let Hannibal come to see him but nothing had worked. Even when Murdock had eventually lost all patience and ended up yelling, Face had just looked at him with sad blue eyes, apologised for being such a drain and crawled back into his nest to sleep once more. And so now, at the start of day five, Murdock was facing the uncomfortable realisation that he was going to have to do exactly as he had sworn he wouldn’t and bring Hannibal over without Face’s consent, the mere thought of such a betrayal made him want to vomit, but in all honesty, what else could he do?
He slid down off the wall around the parking lot and headed back inside to have one last go at talking some sense into Face.
___________________
The second he opened the hotel room door, he knew something was different and his stomach knotted in an instant, terrified of what he might find. The curtains were open, as was a window, cool fresh morning air hit him right in the face, fresh morning air edged with a hint of steam, and... deodorant? He walked in.
Face was sat on the bed, dressed in a pale blue short sleeved shirt and tastefully faded jeans. His hair was damp and carefully combed through, his jaw freshly shaved and he was busy tugging a sock on over his bare foot. He looked up as Murdock stepped in front of him and their eyes met.
“Face?”
“I’m sorry.”
Murdock frowned, “What?” and Face stood up, crossing the gap between them in a second and grabbing him in a bear hug.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Again. Jeez, how in hell’s name do you put up with me?”
For a second Murdock hugged him in return, and then thinking that all of this was just a little too good to be true, pulled back and carefully looked Face over. He looked better that was for sure, but there was still an unnatural paleness to his skin, a tightness around his mouth and that unmistakable shine of hurt in his eyes. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.
Face sighed, and sat back down to tug his shoes on. “I don’t know about you, but I am fed up of the inside of this room. Let’s get going and check out and I’ll shout you breakfast somewhere, what do you say?”
Murdock watched him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said carefully, “let me get washed and we’re gone.”
Face smiled.
Next
__________________
BA walked back into the kitchen to find Hannibal in exactly the same position as before, untouched breakfast on the table next to him as he stared, unseeing, out of the window. He sighed, time for some tough love. “Okay, man,” he growled, and was pleased to see Hannibal jump at his voice. “You need to get yourself upstairs, smartened up and changed,” he took a deep breath, “an’ while you are up there you can pack a bag for Face,” Hannibal’s eyes were instantly on his, “we’re goin’ to meet up with Murdock.”
“Murdock?” Hannibal rose to his feet, “You’ve spoken to him?” he glanced down at his own silent and waiting phone, “Where are they? Is Face okay?”
BA wondered how best the phrase this. “They are in a hotel downtown,” he said slowly, “and the fool says that Face is... struggling... a bit.”
Hannibal frowned. “Struggling? What the fuck is that? What’s struggling mean, Bosco?”
“It means,” BA hissed through clenched teeth, “that your stupid stunt las’ night pulled the rug out from under him an’ now he don’t know which way is up!” Hannibal flushed, “That’s what I mean by struggling!”
His words had the desired effect and Hannibal looked down at the floor, shame etched across his brow. “So, will he see me? Can I talk to him? Explain?”
BA wondered what the hell there was to explain, but at the hopeful cast to Hannibal’s expression didn’t voice those thoughts. “I dunno,” he replied instead. “Murdock wants us to meet him in the corridor of their hotel so we can have a talk. He wants you there but he says that if Face don’t wanna see you, then you aint seein’ him. I said you’d be cool with that. Right?”
Hannibal nodded, fairly convinced that he would be able talk his way in to see Face once he was there. “So, what’s the bag for then?”
BA frowned, “The bag?” he queried.
“You said I should pack a bag for Face.”
The two men looked at each other for a minute and then BA sighed in sympathy. “Hannibal, man,” he whispered, hating to be the bearer of bad news, “he aint comin’ back jus’ yet.”
Hannibal sat down on the kitchen chair with a bump and stared blankly at BA.
________________________________
BA had called Murdock as he and Hannibal reached the hotel, and so he was waiting for them as the elevator doors slid open, edgily walking up and down in the hallway, eyes constantly flicking back to the door of his room.
Hannibal had been nervous on the way over, memories of Murdock’s words and voice and expression back in La Maison the previous evening fresh in his mind, the last thing he needed right now was another scene with the pilot. But he needn’t have worried, as he and BA stepped out onto the thick carpet, Murdock looked nothing other than relieved to see them both.
“Guys,” he breathed, eyes darting to the room and back again, “thanks for coming.” He turned to BA, “You bring the sleepy juice, big guy?”
“Yeah,” BA answered gruffly, “in your bag, man.”
“Sedative?” Hannibal said, his eyes going from Murdock to BA and back again, “What do you need that for?”
Murdock’s bloodshot eyes fell on BA, “You didn’t tell him?”
“Not all of it, no,” BA replied, clearly awkward with this conversation.
Sighing, Murdock turned to Hannibal. “Face has had a complete meltdown, bossman,” he whispered and Hannibal could see the pain and fear in his eyes.
“Meltdown?”
“Yeah. I aint never seen him like that, never. He’s been screamin’ and fightin’ and tryin’ to run and then cryin’ and wantin’ to hurt himself...” Murdock trailed off, just shaking his head at Hannibal.
There was a brief pause as Hannibal processed this information and then he sat down heavily on the chair in the corner of the hallway, head in his hands. Murdock and BA stared at each other, and then both looked down at Hannibal. “Bossman?” BA asked quietly.
He answered without looking up. “Oh, boys... it’s just, I’ve seen him like that before, years ago. And that was when he was let down by someone, badly. And now,” he shook his head again, “I’ve done it to him as well, hurt him just as much as she did.”
BA and Murdock traded glances again, both knowing what Hannibal was talking about; Face’s little foray into heterosexuality, his yearning to be a husband and father encouraged by Hannibal who’d felt he was holding his boy back. Something that should have been a few harmless weeks of experimentation followed by a mind blowing reunion, but actually turned into a ‘relationship’, eight months of Face falling harder and harder for Charisa Sosa, Hannibal acting more and more like a damn morose martyr, until that freefall ended with Face crashing head first into the ground with a engagement ring but no parachute and Hannibal scooping him up so fast that no one even saw him for over a week. Then he’d appeared again, back in Hannibal’s bed, usual smile on his face, usual devil may care attitude, but now Murdock and BA could picture what that missing week had been like...
Hannibal looked up, his eyes pleading, “Murdock,” he whispered hoarsely, “can I see him?”
Sighing, Murdock ran his hands over his face. “Look, boss,” he whispered, “I aint doing’ this to hurt you, right?” Hannibal nodded, “But I’m not pushing him into anything, that’s how we got into the mess in the first place an’ I sure as hell aint makin’ that mistake. He’s sleepin’ still, but when he wakes up, I’ll ask him. I’ll put in a good word for you, but that’s all I’ll do.”
Slowly standing up, Hannibal patted his arm, “Thank you captain,” he replied, “that’s all I would ask of you.”
Murdock bent to pick up the two holdalls from the floor and nodded at his team mates. “I’d better get back.”
Hannibal nodded and BA squeezed his shoulder, “Call us, man,” he whispered, “if you need us.”
Murdock forced out a tight smile and then turned back to the room.
He opened the door slowly, knowing that it was entirely possible to find just about anything going on in that room and peeked in, eyes taking a second to adjust to the dimness inside. The first things his eyes focussed on was a pair of scrumpled up boxer shorts on the floor next to the wall, it looked as if they had been thrown and Murdock slowly turned his eyes to the bed, dreading what he would see there.
Face was sitting on the end of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, his head in his hands and his red rimmed eyes on Murdock as he peered through the gloom. “Murdock...” he whispered, and the pilot guessed in an instant what had happened in his absence.
“Oh, hey, buddy,” he whispered, sliding in, closing the door softly behind him and dropping the two bags on the floor as he made his way straight to Face, dropping to the carpet at his feet, both hands resting on his bare knees. “You didn’t think I’d run out on you did you? Come on, Facey, surely you know me better than that? You know I’d never leave you.”
Face took a deep breath and Murdock could hear the shake to it; he squeezed both the knees under his hands. “I just,” Face cleared his throat and tried again, “I just thought, after what happened last night – this morning...” he scrubbed a hand over his stubble, “I just thought...”
“Face,” Murdock leant in, pushing his face right into his friend’s eye line, “stop that now.” Face stopped but wouldn’t look Murdock in the eye. “How many nights have you sat up with me in the past? How many nights have I been the one who’s lost a grip on myself?” Face didn’t answer. “How many times have you had to wrestle bottles from me? Razors? Drag me down off roofs and balconies and walls?”
Murdock paused expectantly and Face eventually shrugged.
“Yeah, exactly,” Murdock laughed darkly. “Too many to count. So I think I owed you last night, okay? Big time.”
There was a silence and Murdock watched as Face’s eyes crept over to the wall where he knew his boxers were laid. “But Murdock,” he whispered, “I...” and he trailed off, unable to complete his own sentence.
Leaning right in, Murdock put their foreheads together, sliding a hand into the curls at the back of Face’s head. “I know what happened, Face. I was here, remember? And I didn't do a single thing that I wouldn’t do again, any other time you need it. You got that?” Face pulled away and looked up at him, disbelief shining in his eyes. Murdock smiled at him and tried again. “You are my best friend in the whole world, the only person who really likes me for actually being me, crazy an’ all. I know you love Hannibal and I know he hurt you by being a jackass last night, and if that’s what you needed to make you feel better and get some more sleep and just feel that someone was there for you, then of course I would do that for you – I will always be that friend, Face. Last night, next week, next year. Whatever, whenever, that’s what friends are for.”
For a second neither of them moved and then Face leaned in again, dropping their heads together once more. “I am sorry though, HM, for putting you in that position, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking,” Murdock soothed, “you were just feeling, and if what I did made you feel a bit better, then I’m thrilled, I’m more than thrilled, I’m uber-thrilled, with sprinkles on, you get me?”
He felt the muscles of his friend’s face shift as he smiled and Face replied, “Yeah, I get you.”
Pulling back, he got hold of Face’s head with both hands and dropped a hard kiss right onto the crown of his head before shifting right back and smiling. “So, how about a shower and a change of clothes and then maybe we’ll go down and get some breakfast?”
Face’s smile disappeared and he shook his head slightly, “I don’t have any other clothes...”
“Problem solved!” Murdock leapt to his feet like a Cossack dancer and turned to the bags by the door. “Hannibal and BA just been over and dropped these off for us.”
What little colour there had been in Face’s complexion suddenly drained out and his eyes flew to the door, something very similar to fear flashing through them. “Hannibal’s here?” he whispered, “Now?”
“No!” Murdock hastily reassured him. “He’s been and gone, just brought your stuff over.” He narrowed his eyes at the ways Face’s expression had tightened even more at those words and tried to be fair to Hannibal in his explanation. “He wants to see you, he wanted to see you when he came over, but I told him you were sleeping and needed just a bit more time to sort things out. But he wants to see you, Face, to explain what happened, just as soon as you feel ready.”
Murdock’s explanation seemed to leech all of the energy from Face and he just turned, crawling back up the bed and back into the sheets. “I’m tired,” he muttered, pulling the towel out from around his waist as he yanked the duvet over himself, “I think I might just go back to sleep.”
Frowning, Murdock brought the bag over and put it at the side of the bed, “You don’t want a shower? Breakfast? Room service? TV?”
“Nah,” Face’s voice was muffled by the duvet, “I just wanna sleep.”
And sure enough, even as Murdock watched him, slightly confused at the sudden change in demeanour, Face’s breathing slowed and evened out and he slipped back into sleep.
_______________________
Murdock sighed and swung his legs, kicking his heels against the brick wall and enjoying the feel of the early morning sunshine on his face. It felt good, and precious little had felt good over the last four days. Four days... he shook his head. If he had known that Face would do this, retreat into his shell like a traumatised tortoise, then he would never have brought him here, would have taken him back to the house where Hannibal and BA might have had more luck in getting through to him. As it was, Murdock felt like a terrific failure. Since that first morning, Face had hardly said three entire sentences and just slept all the time, Murdock had managed to force bits of food down him, and was getting him to drink plenty of water only by threatening him with a drip, but he hadn’t showered or dressed or left the room or shaved or done much of anything really.
Murdock had tried to talk to him, had tried to convince him to let Hannibal come to see him but nothing had worked. Even when Murdock had eventually lost all patience and ended up yelling, Face had just looked at him with sad blue eyes, apologised for being such a drain and crawled back into his nest to sleep once more. And so now, at the start of day five, Murdock was facing the uncomfortable realisation that he was going to have to do exactly as he had sworn he wouldn’t and bring Hannibal over without Face’s consent, the mere thought of such a betrayal made him want to vomit, but in all honesty, what else could he do?
He slid down off the wall around the parking lot and headed back inside to have one last go at talking some sense into Face.
___________________
The second he opened the hotel room door, he knew something was different and his stomach knotted in an instant, terrified of what he might find. The curtains were open, as was a window, cool fresh morning air hit him right in the face, fresh morning air edged with a hint of steam, and... deodorant? He walked in.
Face was sat on the bed, dressed in a pale blue short sleeved shirt and tastefully faded jeans. His hair was damp and carefully combed through, his jaw freshly shaved and he was busy tugging a sock on over his bare foot. He looked up as Murdock stepped in front of him and their eyes met.
“Face?”
“I’m sorry.”
Murdock frowned, “What?” and Face stood up, crossing the gap between them in a second and grabbing him in a bear hug.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Again. Jeez, how in hell’s name do you put up with me?”
For a second Murdock hugged him in return, and then thinking that all of this was just a little too good to be true, pulled back and carefully looked Face over. He looked better that was for sure, but there was still an unnatural paleness to his skin, a tightness around his mouth and that unmistakable shine of hurt in his eyes. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.
Face sighed, and sat back down to tug his shoes on. “I don’t know about you, but I am fed up of the inside of this room. Let’s get going and check out and I’ll shout you breakfast somewhere, what do you say?”
Murdock watched him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said carefully, “let me get washed and we’re gone.”
Face smiled.
Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 05:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 06:27 pm (UTC)