...okay, it's disgusting but it's waking him up a little.
"What else would I be talking about?" comes the question, because that's just his life. Child trafficking was on the lighter end of the horrible shit he usually got tapped for. At least the children were alive in his nightmares. "S'why I started with 'she's safe'."
He's got some coffee down, can't find the bread, but that suggestion sounds good. He heads for the couch, since it's the closest thing long enough, and flops over onto it, letting his injured arm rest upright against the back of it.
...And 'sludgy' was DISGUSTING. The redhead winced as he took a gulp of his coffee 'milkshake'.
"'She's safe'?!" Louise responded, both vexed AND perturbed. If she could add 'highly annoyed' to that to make it a trifecta, she would. "Why on earth didn't you call me? My team and I are plenty discreet."
A beat, as she followed him trudging out of the kitchen, shuffling his way to the sofa.
He'd started to nod off but then she's talking and he doesn't want to be rude. His Aunt Dian would turn over in her grave if she knew he'd ignored a lady who'd come to call.
"Nope. Like I said. Couldn't tell him no. Made it sloppy. Not happy."
He turns to be able to look her in the face since, really, he doesn't want to be rude. He likes her. He tries not to be rude even when he doesn't like people. Unless they're supervillains. Then screw them. Screw them a lot. In the bad porcupine sort of way. Yeah, that.
"And I would have. Called you. 'Cept I didn't have evidence. Just nightmares. Nightmares aren't evidence."
And you're not making any sense whatsoever, she lamented to herself.
"Look--try and sleep this off," she told him, walking to her purse and taking out a small bottle of nurofen and handing him three tablets. "This'll help the hangover, because it's definitely in the mail after you swallowed that lot."
Placing her bag back upon the table in the hallway, she called out to him. "I'm going to get some kip in your room, yeah? And when you've sobered up enough to spell all this out to me, wake me up."
She'll wake up to a hot cup of coffee placed carefully on the night stand of his bed and Sand, his arm no longer bandaged and entirely injury-free sitting on the chair beside it. For probably the first time since she's ever seen him, he's missing the racoon eyes. He actually looks somewhat rested.
"Morning," he says quietly, "and sorry. About last night."
The light filtered through the blinds on the window, skimming across Louise's eyelids, and she flinched, lids slowly opening, pupils readjusting. When she'd finally gotten her bearings, she finally noticed the steaming mug of joe on the nightstand. The lovely smell of it awakened her almost immediately and she struggled a bit to sit up, her clothing dishevelled by sleep, and she pushed a hand through her rumpled hair. Picking up the cup, she took a long, slow sip and brightened up instantly.
But then...she noticed him. "Have you gotten plastic surgery overnight. You look...almost completely normal.." Louise was gobsmacked. She needs a moment. Then, you can start explaining the rest of it, Hawkins.
He has his own cup of coffee, as much because he was awake as because now that he'd had his one night of rest, well, the next time he passes out is going to be as bad as it always is.
"Sobered up, got my focus back," he holds up his hand, lets it go to sand, and gently pokes one finger through the grains. He doesn't do it long because it's disturbing, he knows that, but the point is made as he pulls his hand out and lets his flesh and blood return. "'Healing' is kind of a moot point with me most of the time. Last night was kind of a fluke.
"When I don't have the kind of focus I need, I can't do," and he lifts his arm up again to reference the 'sand-making' bit. "So I'm as stabbable as anyone else. What happened last night was..."
He breathes in, he breathes out, and then he rubs at his temple.
"I didn't tell you about the nightmares. Mostly because I didn't feel like..." he flicks one hand in a swiping motion, basically 'everything related to that, "but what it boils down to is that Wes, the old Sandman, he'd get dreams, visions that told him about crimes that were going to happen in the future. Now, Wes liked his comforts as much as anyone, but he was a good man. A caring man. A man dedicated to looking out for people. But you can't bring dreams to the police. That was what had him going out in the first place."
He looks up at her then.
"When he died, they passed on to me. That's what I've been doing here the last week or so: trying to find out what my dreams are telling me so that I could save that little girl. Who was being bought by a rather high powered lawyer to act as a maid for his family probably until her dying day."
He takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I knew what his drop off guy looked like, and I knew approximately when they'd be meeting and where. The problem was that it was a bar and some drunken idiot decided to take my 'sour' mood and flip it up side down" and you can see how he feels about that, "so it was either call attention to myself or down a shot or two. And the guy spilled on me. Which was very unhelpful a little later when I one, had to try and sneak up on people and two, did it smelling like tequila and with nowhere near my usual focus." Once more. "Hence the stabbing."
She chuckled at the beginning of his explanation. "Sounds a bit 'Tom Cruise', doesn't it. What was that film called...'Minority Report'? And yes, you're right, unfortunately. The force doesn't like the supernatural. It's liable to make you a prime candidate for involuntary sectioning. Your mentor was smart."
...And THEN she heard the rest of his explanation. Now chuckling ironically, and placing a hand over her face, she drew in a deep breath.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sandy," she laughed softly, "You have to have the universe's absolute WORST luck in apprehending criminals, my GOD."
But after a few seconds, she looked up, her facial features softening. "You did the right thing, even if you were bloody bladdered."
"I've seen it," because yeah, he's a nerd, reads all the time, plays board games with himself, but he also has a very active Netflix account. He'd been a fan of film before he'd gone under and he still was. "But it's a little different."
Sandy got to see things from their point of view. His dreams took him into the culprit's heads. Which was a pretty awful place to be 90% of the time, but his success rate was pretty good, after all. It just... wrecked him a little was all.
"I'm assuming that means 'drunk'," and he can't help a yawn, "and if you haven't figured out that my luck is crap by now, you've been going over your laundry list while I'm talking half the time."
The redhead emitted a short laugh before finally sitting up in bed, dishevelled hair and all.
"And now it's even more crap, because you've met me," she replied. "And no laundry list."
Grabbing him by the undershirt collar, Louise kissed him for the first time; long enough to not seem chaste, and short enough to not be intimidating to him. Pulling away, she wrung her hands together nervously.
To say he'd been expecting that would be dead wrong, but he recovers relative quickly and there's a moment where he's processing it, blue eyes clearly showing the 'math' he was working out in his head. But when he sees her start ringing her hands, he decides to eschew words, put his own hand on hers, and leans in to kiss her back.
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from 5-5-2017 TFLN | Elena
I'm just curious why you feel that's the way things should go. Sounds angry too. I'd like to know why.
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It's really not.
from 8/11/2017 TFLN | DS Louise Gardiner
Sludgy's good. Sludgy's got body.
...okay, it's disgusting but it's waking him up a little.
"What else would I be talking about?" comes the question, because that's just his life. Child trafficking was on the lighter end of the horrible shit he usually got tapped for. At least the children were alive in his nightmares. "S'why I started with 'she's safe'."
He's got some coffee down, can't find the bread, but that suggestion sounds good. He heads for the couch, since it's the closest thing long enough, and flops over onto it, letting his injured arm rest upright against the back of it.
Finally free for the night! :)
"'She's safe'?!" Louise responded, both vexed AND perturbed. If she could add 'highly annoyed' to that to make it a trifecta, she would. "Why on earth didn't you call me? My team and I are plenty discreet."
A beat, as she followed him trudging out of the kitchen, shuffling his way to the sofa.
"And when did the José Cuervo come in? I hope after you'd already secured the child," she added, shoving his ankle aside with one hip so she could perch her arse on the edge of the couch.
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"Nope. Like I said. Couldn't tell him no. Made it sloppy. Not happy."
He turns to be able to look her in the face since, really, he doesn't want to be rude. He likes her. He tries not to be rude even when he doesn't like people. Unless they're supervillains. Then screw them. Screw them a lot. In the bad porcupine sort of way. Yeah, that.
"And I would have. Called you. 'Cept I didn't have evidence. Just nightmares. Nightmares aren't evidence."
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"Look--try and sleep this off," she told him, walking to her purse and taking out a small bottle of nurofen and handing him three tablets. "This'll help the hangover, because it's definitely in the mail after you swallowed that lot."
Placing her bag back upon the table in the hallway, she called out to him. "I'm going to get some kip in your room, yeah? And when you've sobered up enough to spell all this out to me, wake me up."
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"Morning," he says quietly, "and sorry. About last night."
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But then...she noticed him. "Have you gotten plastic surgery overnight. You look...almost completely normal.." Louise was gobsmacked. She needs a moment. Then, you can start explaining the rest of it, Hawkins.
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"Sobered up, got my focus back," he holds up his hand, lets it go to sand, and gently pokes one finger through the grains. He doesn't do it long because it's disturbing, he knows that, but the point is made as he pulls his hand out and lets his flesh and blood return. "'Healing' is kind of a moot point with me most of the time. Last night was kind of a fluke.
"But thank you for coming and patching me up."
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Louise put the cup down upon the nightstand again. "All right now, EXPLAIN.. The child. The tequila. The knife. The man. GO."
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He breathes in, he breathes out, and then he rubs at his temple.
"I didn't tell you about the nightmares. Mostly because I didn't feel like..." he flicks one hand in a swiping motion, basically 'everything related to that, "but what it boils down to is that Wes, the old Sandman, he'd get dreams, visions that told him about crimes that were going to happen in the future. Now, Wes liked his comforts as much as anyone, but he was a good man. A caring man. A man dedicated to looking out for people. But you can't bring dreams to the police. That was what had him going out in the first place."
He looks up at her then.
"When he died, they passed on to me. That's what I've been doing here the last week or so: trying to find out what my dreams are telling me so that I could save that little girl. Who was being bought by a rather high powered lawyer to act as a maid for his family probably until her dying day."
He takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I knew what his drop off guy looked like, and I knew approximately when they'd be meeting and where. The problem was that it was a bar and some drunken idiot decided to take my 'sour' mood and flip it up side down" and you can see how he feels about that, "so it was either call attention to myself or down a shot or two. And the guy spilled on me. Which was very unhelpful a little later when I one, had to try and sneak up on people and two, did it smelling like tequila and with nowhere near my usual focus." Once more. "Hence the stabbing."
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...And THEN she heard the rest of his explanation. Now chuckling ironically, and placing a hand over her face, she drew in a deep breath.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sandy," she laughed softly, "You have to have the universe's absolute WORST luck in apprehending criminals, my GOD."
But after a few seconds, she looked up, her facial features softening. "You did the right thing, even if you were bloody bladdered."
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Sandy got to see things from their point of view. His dreams took him into the culprit's heads. Which was a pretty awful place to be 90% of the time, but his success rate was pretty good, after all. It just... wrecked him a little was all.
"I'm assuming that means 'drunk'," and he can't help a yawn, "and if you haven't figured out that my luck is crap by now, you've been going over your laundry list while I'm talking half the time."
Let's pretend there's no "coffee breath" in RP.
"And now it's even more crap, because you've met me," she replied. "And no laundry list."
Grabbing him by the undershirt collar, Louise kissed him for the first time; long enough to not seem chaste, and short enough to not be intimidating to him. Pulling away, she wrung her hands together nervously.
"Sorry."
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from 6/15/2018 - shahrrehth
It's not exactly best practice to destroy public transportation for battle equipment. Do you need me to bring some weapons as well?
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But sometimes when I'm in a tight spot, you just have to hit a guy with a bus.
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Was there anything else you WOULD like me to bring?
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Wait no.
Humanesque face.
Kryptonian face.
You have a lovely face. Please bring it.
And the rest of you too! You have a lovely body.
...And maybe a gag so I don't talk like this when you're here.
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So now we've confirmed that without any possible over interpretation, I have thought of something else I'd like. Movies!
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Ooh, bring me your favourite film. Films. Your top ten.
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