don't call me phil @nullxbrody - Tumblr Blog

parasympathic:

✦

The man wasn’t hard to find. The town wasn’t that big, there were only so many salons, and there were only so many people who might be sitting out on the curb at some strange hour of the morning looking quite so miserable. Monty pulled the car up to the sidewalk before he got out, but there was no indication Brody even knew he was there until he was crouching down next to him, a hand settling gently on his shoulder to try and rouse him.

The answer he got had a smile flicker across his face for a moment, even if it was a pained thing. It was just familiar. Everything except the thought that it was taking place in Asphodel, but right now that felt like an unimportant detail compared to the state of the man in front of him.

“Oh, that’s too bad. That’s the only reason I came.” He offered quiet humor in return, even if he wasn’t sure after he said it just how well the joke might go over. If it was the kind of thing he could usually get away with, he didn’t know if that was still true when he thought this had turned into what was effectively a bad trip. A rarity, because the man was usually the happiest of drunks, bright and carefree in all the ways Monty was not. It was what had drawn him to Brody in the first place, because he’d found quickly that it wasn’t something that faded when the sun came up and they were forced back to sobriety. He was still both of those things, and there was a distant ache just seeing him like this now.

He thought the last time he’d looked this bad, they’d gotten in a fight. One of a hundred like it, all circling back to the same problems that had been accumulating over months. Monty didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t tell him where he went or who he was with, the name of his friends or his family. All of those things Brody would’ve shared with him easily, if he’d just let him, and he felt a familiar wave of guilt on the heels of that thought. He’d told him he didn’t hate him, but Monty still couldn’t shake the thought that he absolutely should.

He just didn’t want him to. He didn’t want to be the reason he kept getting hurt, and crouched next to him felt like the bare minimum of what he should be doing to try and make up for the past. It quieted those attempts at humor, one hand settling under his elbow and the other still against his shoulder. A light squeeze before he tugged at him, trying to draw him up off the curb. “Come on. It’s time to go. I know you don’t want to sleep on the sidewalk.”

***

The joke had him frowning slightly, but it was forgotten as soon as his head lifted. As soon as his head tipped back and a familiar, albeit blurry, man crouched down next to him, a smile spread across his face. Something bright and nothing held back in it. Like the months they’d been apart hadn’t meant anything and he honestly forgot he was supposed to be broken up with the man, or angry with him, or careful because neither of them knew where this was headed. All of those thoughts were gone leaving in it’s place just a raw happiness on seeing him there.

“Monty,” he breathed the man’s name, leaning into him and if it weren’t for the hand on his shoulder, the other under his elbow, he might have toppled over right then and there, losing his balance and content with just tucking himself into the man’s shoulder, using him for support. His head finds his shoulder and he can’t help but tip it back to look up at him. “Hi,” he tells him.

It fades in the next moment, but not completely. He’s just barely able to hold a thought in his head, let alone an emotion in his heart when this is threatening to be a blackout drunk type of night. It had been a while. Drunk, he enjoyed. Tipsy, he enjoyed. Blackout, was a different story. Especially when he was out in public like this. But he didn’t even have the wits about him to worry about it right now, thoughts stuttering in his head, slowing down and speeding up and nothing that stuck in place except for his head against Monty’s shoulder.

Even as the man tries to lift him up to his feet, telling him it’s time to go and that he doesn’t want to sleep on the sidewalk, he whines in his throat, hand curling in Monty’s shirt.

“I do if you’re here,” he slurs to him, laughing at his own words before that fades too. And for a moment, his gaze wanders over Monty. He tries to pull away, tries to straighten himself up because if one thing made it through his foggy brain, it was that he was very clearly drunk off his ass and Monty was not. He was shameless, certainly, but he didn’t want to be obnoxious.

“I’m okay,” he tells him, like he has something to prove. “I’m okay, Monty,” he tells the man, forgetting that he was the one who called him in the first place and he repeats the words several more times, even with Monty’s hand lingering on his elbow, unaware how badly he was swaying and just how dangerously close he was getting to sitting his ass back down on the ground against his will.

His head tips back, face towards the sky and his eyes closed, just breathing in the night air. “I’m okay,” he gives another time, only this one sounds pained, his wincing like the words are more for himself than for the man next to him.

#montgomery #montgomery005

dom-dupont:

Dom winced slightly - the other man had hit the nail on the head as it were, regarding the bruises and his other miscellaneous injuries. Almost unbidden, his mind flashed back to his and Monty’s conversation that fateful ride back to HQ - the silent stretches in between just as devastating as his soft-toned admonishments. It was almost instinct that Dom curled his spine slightly, as if dodging a blow - words, he found, cut a bit deeper than any physical strike would. “Yeah, this-” His fingers lightly danced across the bruise on his cheekbone. “-inspired quite a lecture.”

It painted quite a picture really. A young, good-looking man dressed in that - Dom’s eyes flickered over the rainbow-colored sequins before focusing once more on his face - a stranger, who spoke truths that hit too close to home. Dom always handled words like family like a loaded gun - gingerly, warily, with the knowledge that any attempt on his part would probably result in a backfire. What did a boy who attempted to win his parents love with everything he had inside him, only to be left for dead after barely less than a year of searching know about family anyway?

“He does an amazing job.” Dom said instead, because it was true and it was safe and it did not tread on feelings that he didn’t want to explore. “You seem to know him quite well.” He spoke pointedly, in a desperate ploy to redirect the conversation.

***

Brody chuckled, imagining that it yeah, it probably had caused quite the stir with Monty. He was protective. Not something Brody had realized about the man until he’d come here. Protective over his own way of life, protective especially over his house and what he did. Everything he’d come to know about Monty, it was clear as day what House Endine and the people in it meant to the man. It had been once of those sobering realizations, because he was still coming to terms what his role in all of it was. Not good enough to be a part of it, not good enough to be kept out of it either. Just limbo. Stuck in the unmentioned. Not even worthy of the title of “ex.”

Just...non-existent. And he’d never thought he’d be hurt by feeling like that ever again.

It’s hard to keep the smile on his face, but he laughs anyway when Dom tells him that he seems to know him quite well. “Not that well,” he says, no harshness to the words, but they’re honest, at least. He’d learned a lot about Monty only after they’d agreed to be friends. He gives a shrug, playing it off with a, “I mean, any schmuck who knows him knows how much his family means to him.”

#dom #dom001

parasympathic:

✦

For a moment, Monty wasn’t sure the man would be able to give him anything to work with. A distressing thought, when he didn’t want to drive around town looking for him, or worse, stop at the only bar worth going to and ask which direction he might have stumbled off in. A separate curiosity who else he might have been drinking with, or high with, or what else he’d done, when he’d promised them both that he didn’t want to know. It wasn’t his business, they weren’t really together, he didn’t know what this was at all.

He still breathed out a sigh of relief when he got something more solid, a nod of his head as he finished pulling his shoes on. “I know where that is.”

But something more fitting for his drunken state spilled out next, too honest to be tempered by sobriety. “It doesn’t break the rules,” Monty assured him easily. A smile following that still felt strained, placed there just out of habit even if the man couldn’t see him at all. He still knew that for a fact, that it was something he would do for any of his friends, but beyond that he didn’t know anymore what the rules were. He hadn’t defined them clearly enough, not for either of them, not enough to function without confusion following, and an aching nostalgia for something he thought he’d lost.

Every time he tried to think about what came next, what he wanted to happen or hoped would happen, he knew it would never end anywhere good. He knew it would just hurt one of them or both of them, maybe he’d break the man’s heart all over again, maybe he’d blow up Monty’s life even if it was entirely on accident. It was a small town, secrets didn’t stay that way for long.

It still didn’t stop him from grabbing his keys and heading out the door, and he couldn’t even maintain the lie that it was just because they were friends, even to himself. Not with that confession ringing in his ear and the memory of that warm Solstice night still too fresh in his memory. Whatever else they were, Brody just wanted him there, and if he knew it was something he should stop indulging in it didn’t have to be tonight. “I’ll be there soon.”

***

Some time after the words, Brody must have hung up, or Monty had. But the words lingered there. I’ll be there soon. It left him feeling warmer. Gave him a sense of security and safety that he hadn’t known he’d walked out of the bar not having. He’d been hobbling along these streets trying to find his bearings and he just couldn’t seem to gather them. Too drunk to work his phone how it should have been and if he’d been thinking straighter, her might have called an Uber before he’d called Monty.

What it meant that the man had been the first thing on his mind, he couldn’t yet contemplate.

Even after the call ended, Brody sat there on the curb, legs pulled up and one elbow resting on his knee so he could prop his head up. The other hand was tucked in to his stomach, holding his phone so he couldn’t lose it and his eyes remained closed for who knows how long. On a normal day, he would have grown bored waiting for the man. On a normally drunk night, he probably would have wandered or started singing karaoke to keep himself occupied. His thoughts would have been happy and excited that the man was coming.

Tonight wasn’t normal and he didn’t know what had tipped it that way. Instead, he sat there quietly, not really thinking about much as he started to drift off and if he found any amusement in it at all, it was that it had been a while since he’d fallen asleep on a street curb. Usually he at least made it to someone’s lawn...

The hand on his shoulder roused him and somewhere along the line, he’d bent in on himself, head resting on his arm instead of his hand, huddled over his knees and it wasn’t a comfortable position, but he didn’t make a move to fix it quite yet.

“Mmm, don’t have any money...-” he mumbled, not bothering to lift his head to even see who it was who was trying to bring him back to awareness. He was content on sleeping right here.

#montgomery #montgomery005

ulysses-goode:

“Few weeks, really? Just like me then. Guess we should have each other’s backs then, since we’re both incredibly new here,” they suggested. It was a pretty great coincidence, but given the situation they found themselves in, not being the only new kind was something they appreciated. Someone else who didn’t know the city that well yet, for whom everything was a new experience.

“I’m still getting used to it as well, though I haven’t actually tried to go anywhere that isn’t home or hospital or the places in between,” they admitted. “Also the Witches’ Brew and the local supermarket, but that’s about it. Ah, and this festival now, my first major outing,” they said with a laugh.

“Why did you come here?” they asked. It didn’t sound like it had been a choice for Brody to come to Asphodel. Uly knew that even if they had figured out what the town was all about, they still would’ve gone. They liked the idea of being wanted, and it had been of sole importance in the decision. “I’ve never been much attached to a place, but I did feel a little terrible about leaving Baylor, if only for my colleagues. They were incredibly enthusiastic though, perhaps even more than I had been.”

***

“Hey, you got mine, I got yours,” he nods at Uly and even if it’s said in a lighthearted way, Brody usually followed that standard. While most of his friendships had a tendency to verge on the superficial side, he liked getting behind those friends who reciprocated the feeling. It was never the ride or die type of friendship, but it was rather moments of praise, or coming to their defense in a conversation. Speaking highly of them.

Offering something better in their lives because they’d known him. No matter how small that something may be. It may have been a lofty goal, but it was still the way Brody operated. He knew for most people, he’d be a passing memory. He just hoped he was a good one.

“You need to get out more,” Brody said, grinning at them. “I think I’ve been to just about every bar this town has to offer. No gay bar, by the way, which means I’ll probably have to head back to New Orleans a weekend out of the month to find a good time, but hey, the ones they do have here aren’t all rednecks, at least.”

It’s playful and joking and nothing he’s ashamed of because if nothing else, Brody was a shameless kind of guy. It was the next question that still had him pausing, because he was still trying to figure out the logic behind it. Whether it had been coincidence or something of a more purposeful power move.

“I got transferred. Hadn’t even put in for one, but I guess they had openings here or...my boss didn’t want me there anymore. Who knows.”

#ulysses #ulysses001

parasympathic:

✦

For a moment there was only a laugh following Monty’s question, making it immediately more apparent why he’d asked. A thing that finally stole his attention away, blinking and focusing on the counter instead while he tried to listen to the man on the other end of the phone. And if that slur in his voice hadn’t been obvious enough when he’d first picked up, it became more so the moment he started talking. Painting a picture that Monty couldn’t help but feel some slight envy for, despite himself.

He thought it had already been weeks since he’d last bought pills off Emil, and they still sat unused, when every day still felt like poor timing. The Solstice demanding most of his attention, Hugo’s presence half the reason he didn’t want to be at HQ tonight, and no certainties what to do about that either.

None that would be solved tonight, a much smaller but more present problem he could fix. A nostalgia he couldn’t help, just hearing his voice, when he couldn’t help but think there’d been a point where he would’ve been there with him. Not in this town of course, never in Asphodel, but on city streets farther away and a little more dangerous. Where it didn’t matter if they got a little lost because they were still together. The thought just hurt now, despite the questionable status of their relationship, and he didn’t know if he should try to apply any meaning at all to the fact that the man was calling him now.

“If you’re old then I’m ancient,” he said, fully aware it wasn’t the point. Already closing his laptop and pushing himself to his feet. The yelling that followed making him pull his phone away from his ear for a moment, even if there was something familiar about this too. Not unique to Brody this time, because Monty was usually the one people called when they needed someone responsible to come pick them up. A role that had been wholly intentional on his part.

He ignored the last question entirely, stopping only to get his shoes on while he asked one of his own. Even if he wasn’t sure whether or not the man was capable of answering it at the moment. “Where are you?”

***

The question lingers there in the air for a moment, Brody suddenly too tired and his thoughts teetering on the darker side of things as he holds his head in his hand. It had been a while since he’d had a bad night of drinking or a high that just didn’t pan out to be the relaxation he was looking for. He didn’t want tonight to be it and he lifts his head because Monty had asked him a question and he wanted to answer it.

“Um,” he bites his lip, squinting at the street sign, but that was a lost cause and he shakes his head, looking around at the buildings near him to see if he can make out something that was familiar enough for him to give to Monty.

“I was at a bar...” he mumbles, because he didn’t even remember the name of it, just knew it wasn’t the same one he frequented with Sam. He sighs loudly and shakes his head. “I don’t know, this is hard ...-” he gives a snort and slurs a quiet, “that’s what she said,” before he gives a whine. “There’s a hair place I think right there. It’s got scissors on the window.” Another snort escapes him, “I mean, I think they’re scissors.”

He scrunches his eyes shut after that, closing his hand into a fist and hitting it against his forehead lightly a couple of times like he can knock some sense into his own head and mutters a whined, “I suck,” before he just gives up trying to find anything else he knows around here and focuses on the man on the other end of the phone.

“This doesn’t break the rules, right?” he asks. “Me calling? It doesn’t...I just...” he shakes his head, chewing his bottom lip because he’s not sure anymore if he was calling Monty for a rescue or the more honest words that come out his mouth next, “I just want you here.”

#montgomery #montgomery005

osun-bang:

“Ugh. Gods. You’re too nice. Your pastry is safe, don’t worry,” Osun says, watching a little amused at the way he turns to walk backwards and speak to them. The annoyance at him is completely put on.

“I’m sure she’s a fine friend if you’re not a part of Endine,” Osun concedes to Brody’s kind words about her. He must be a good friend to have. Almost through sheer pettiness, Osun decides they’ll try to keep Brody as a friend. If only because that would piss Sam off. But, also, he enjoyed the pastry and jumped into bodyguard duty without questioning it. Osun needs more people like that in their life. Osun will have to find him another day at work, gift him a full pastry, no strings attached.

“If we could somehow get Sam to use her words, it may help her get further with whatever’s wrong and deal with it rather than —-” Osun finishes off with a sigh, defeated, because while it’s in their nature to easily and blindly hate people, they’ve learnt that sometimes the biggest assholes have some of the biggest issues. Whilst it doesn’t rid Osun of their strong disdain for her, it at least gives them a modicum of understanding that she’s only such a problem because she’s been slighted in some way. Sam’s behaviour is frankly selfish, in Osun’s eyes. They’ve got shit to deal with in their past but they don’t go around assaulting people, causing whirlwinds and property damage.

“I promised I wouldn’t seek her out or stir the pot anymore so please don’t say anything to her or my friend will have my head.” Unless Sam gets to me first, they think but don’t say.

***

Brody grins. Something bright and genuine because despite the uncertainty that his friendship with Sam might bring, Osun seemed like they were willing to overlook it. That was a relief. As much as he didn’t care what people thought of him, it didn’t mean he liked to make enemies. Or was even good at it. His “enemies” usually wound up being more friendly rivalries instead and it just had always been that way. He kept enemies the same way he kept friends -- at arm’s length and easily dropped when his semi-nomadic lifestyle called for it.

Although, that could change and as open as he claimed to be to the possibility of making lifelong friends or being in a relationship that had the potential to last, it was going to take a lot of work on his part. A lot of reminding himself that this would be good for him. That maybe he wouldn’t have to find solace in a pill, but rather a person.

“Yeah, you know, she does not like Endine,” Brody agreed, shaking his head, not something he thought Sam would care if he affirmed with Osun. She’d been open about that, at least and while he hadn’t pried into the why’s of it, he had some personal connections with at least one member of the Endine house that he wasn’t sure why Sam would dislike them.

At Osun’s request, he holds up a hand, mouth stuffed with the last of the pastry. “Our secret,” he manages out between the food.

#osun #osun001

dom-dupont:

“Oh-” Dom suddenly felt his pulse flutter slightly, uncertainly, wondering if he offended the other man by not knowing who he was. Not that Monty told him anything about his life beyond House Endine; not that he told him where he spent his time and with whom, when he wasn’t busy fishing Dom out of trouble, again and again.

Though Dom couldn’t blame his Head Significant for that after all - he certainly never proved himself trustworthy or responsible enough to keep the older man’s confidences.

“Uhm, I don’t think you have to worry about Monty not mentioning you.” Dom’s attempt at comfort, as usual, was awkward at best. “In essence, he’s like my guardian slash glorified babysitter. And I’m certainly more trouble than I’m worth.” Dom rocked back on his heels, trying to hide how his chest twinged in discomfort at his own words, his grin sharp and self-depreciating.

“And I bet he only mentioned me when he was complaining.” About what I disaster I am, Dom failed to add. “In comparison, I’m sure you have a definite leg up on me.”

***

A smirk was still across his lips, because he knew he was skirting a line that only he could see. One Monty had asked him to keep quiet and even if the in-joke was something only he’d get, he still found amusement in it. But he knew the line and he knew it well. Knew what it meant if he’d break it and even if he wanted to take small digs at Monty when the man wasn’t around, he still wanted them to be harmless. Nothing that would actually hurt the man, because as much as Monty reminded him that he should hate him, he didn’t.

“Well, I mean with bruises like that, you probably are a headache,” Brody replied, skirting around all of the implications in the other man’s words. That Monty should have mentioned him, that he was a glorified babysitter when Monty had referred to this man in front of him as family. Kids, he’d said, and Brody still hadn’t known what that meant until this moment.

There’s just a playfulness in him now, trying to mask that revelation in the back of his mind of just what Monty had been hiding him from. And hiding from him. It was still uneasy territory. Unsure how to feel about it, knowing he was shameless most of the time, but...he’d always had a sense of pride in himself that he couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t doing it justice by standing here pretending to be something he was not.

“I do know that he takes his job seriously and regardless of how much of a headache you are, you’re still family. And he doesn’t take that lightly.”

#dom #dom001

parasympathic:

✦

It was debatable whether one o’clock in the morning was a terrible time or an absolutely ideal one for the kind of research Monty was pages deep into. At his own house for the first time in days, tofu fried rice in a white box next to him, and laptop open on the island counter in front of him. Gaze narrowed as he studied the Super 8 footage of the Honey Island Swamp Monster on his screen. Seeing very little himself except for gnarled trees, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t something there. More curious about the legends that predated it, a child supposedly raised by alligators, and he wondered if it was some incredibly obscure shape shifting cult when his phone rang from its spot on the counter next to him.

“Hi, yes, I’m here,” he said. Aware that this late, or this early, depending on perspective, he should probably be more concerned about someone calling him, but he was still distracted. Skimming over references to a Cajun folklore, too much of it effectively telling him to consult locals if he wanted more details on actual firsthand accounts. Which of course he did, but not necessarily at the cost of traipsing through the bayou to talk about beastmen with strangers.

It wasn’t until he heard his name slurred in a familiar voice that he pulled his attention away from his laptop. Still half surprised to hear the man’s voice again, so many months spent separated that there were moments he still found it jarring to be reminded he was in his life in some form now. Even if he wasn’t sure at the moment what form that was, a thing he felt slightly guilty for and mostly confused. “Brody?”

A question following that had him sitting back, shaking his head like the man could see it. “No. Not really.” He gave the answer a little too quickly, not that he was embarrassed, exactly, but there were moments where it felt like an odd fascination with cryptids wasn’t something that fit with either the title of doctor or Head Significant. “Why do you ask?”

***

Any sort of awkwardness in the man’s voice went straight over Brody’s head. He was sat down on the curb with his head in his hand and a content smile on his face because he was just happy the man had picked up. Happy to hear his voice. Happy that he could still feel the way the man had pulled him closer at the Solstice.

It takes him a moment to realize that the man had asked him a question and when he does, he laughs like it’s a funny thing for the man to ask, but realizes even he’s not in on his own joke. He clears his throat, sparking in himself that he needs to sober up a little bit or he’s going to be spending the night here on the curb and that usually meant he’d wake up in a jail cell or a hospital bed, neither one of them would be good for his brand new job he was trying to still make a good impression with.

“It’s been a weird night,” he slurs at the man, nodding his head like it will help Monty commiserate with him. Something to entice him to either call him a cab or an Uber or, best case scenario, he’d get to see him tonight. And it’s only that anticipation that keeps him from feeling embarrassed about making this call at all. “I think I’m getting old, I usually know my limit.”

He takes a breath, let’s out a sigh and laughs as he tells the man, “I can’t find my fucking apartment building and this stupid phone keeps taking me back to Bourbon Street and it doesn’t understand that’s not where I want to go.” Towards the end, he’s pulling the phone away from him, yelling at the device as the frustration with the situation, with the night, with himself, start to get him frazzled.

He rests his head back in his hand again, letting the phone sit on his knee as he stares at it. He sighs, because it’s getting too real where his thoughts are going and he hates when that happens, so he closes his eyes and focuses on the man instead, and it does the trick when he smiles and asks, “What are you wearing?”

#montgomery #montgomery004

nitasamsaradavid:

***

“I’m never happy Brody, I’m just less pissed off sometimes,” she replied, a sarcastic force of habit. But as he continued on, listing ever more ridiculous ways that he’d free her from some mafia blackmail, she found herself falling short on mocking comebacks or even teasing eye rolls. Because for all its silliness, Nita found the entire thing overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe it was all a joke, but she suspected it wasn’t, at least not in sentiment. He’d never shown anything but a willingness to help make life just a little less shitty if he could, and he never questioned her in doubt, just in earnest. If she said House Valerian was corrupt, she suspected he’d believe her. And in a town that insisted on telling her over and over and over again that she was crazy, it was a kindness she hadn’t realized she was craving so much.

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” she finally managed, smile just a little too sincere for a comment she tried to give as a brush off. But in the next moment, they were caught in a whirlwind of fantastical food options, so Nita let him lead the way, giving her not inconsiderable number of opinions on the best and bravest among vegetarian food options. And while the fair food mostly held up to Brody’s enthusiastic endorsements, it was made all the more enjoyable for the good company to share it in.

—

As the crowds started to dwindle, Nita considered whatever shift she was working to be officially over. Yet despite her general disdain for the entire event, she lingered, wandering through the remaining fair-goers with her eyes peeled for a certain sequined friend. When she did finally spot the man, none too steady on his feet and clutching some stuffed prize like a little kid, she was glad she did. “Well someone had a good day,” she observed, not the least bit judgmental, though slightly jealous that he’d had the chance to get thoroughly smashed while she’d been dragged through some boring ass graduation ceremony. “How’s about you tell me all about it on the walk home.” It wasn’t a question, just a plain statement that her promised duties as designated walker were in full effect, an arm around his side already gently pulling him along in the direction of the exit.

***

Somewhere beyond the lights and the noise and the dwindling crowd, Brody was on cloud nine. His own world topsy turvy and it was just the way he liked it. When the ground beneath his feet felt more like a dingy in the ocean and he’d never been one for sea sickness. It’s what kept it fun, what kept it good, what kept him coming back for more. Because he’d fallen enough times in his life to know that the ground could be cold, hard, and hurt. Unless, he had a little something to soften the blow.

Tonight, he was farther gone than he meant to be. A mixture of his time in the beer tent and the self medication he’d taken from his pocket. Plus, a lingering high of familiar lips against his and what once was pretty blue butterfly wings spread across his cheeks was now more of a blue smattering of paint, smeared across his skin and the backs of his hands as he tried to rub the world into the right level of existence for him to at least make it home.

It hadn’t been working.

So far gone, that he didn’t even hear Sam approach until she was talking to him and even then, it took him a second before that bright smile was spreading across his face. “Hey,” he greets her, fully appreciative of her and happy to see his friend in all of this.

“Look what we won for Milo,” he announces to her, showing the stuffed cat that had become his prize at some point in the night.

#nita #nita003 #sorry for him lol

ulysses-goode:

Correction: really liked Brody. The smile that followed wasn’t faked perse, but perhaps a little over-done, showing some form of humble nature that he had lost over the years. But reacting with arrogance towards a fellow hospital worker - not the first thing that came to mind. Not just that, but Uly enjoyed compliments. They had worked hard for years, fought for their place in med school, fought to graduate there and start their residency. Getting praise for it, it felt right. Great, there was the arrogance.

“Top surgeon, I like the sound of that,” they said with a grin.

“I was… technically asked, so transferred. There was a spot open and they asked me personally, and since I very much enjoy people telling me how good I am, I just had to say yes,” they said. So a choice, though Uly would not have said it was, because they felt like they didn’t have a choice: if they did not transfer to Sacred Heart, they would’ve ignored their own person and interests.

“How about you? When did you move to Asphodel?”

***

Brody grinned over at Uly, liking them already in the short time they’d had to get to know each other. Plus, it never hurt to have someone as a surgeon, resident or not, on his side with the hospital. He took his job seriously, but his life outside of work was a mess and he knew it. It often caught up with him, causing minor headaches here and there, but on occasion, it became more of a problem than he liked to admit.

When the question gets pushed back at him, he grins again at them. “Been a few weeks now,” he nods his head, because time seemed to be a blur for him, even when he tried his hardest to pay attention to the days of the weeks. He just needed to know when he was working, everything beyond that was fluid.

“Still trying to get used to the place. I have to admit, I was really liking New Orleans. That city was my city, you know?” He shrugs, though. “Not to say this place is bad. It’s just...different.”

#ulysses #ulysses001

dom-dupont:

♧♧♧

At the mention of Monty, Dom’s eyes lit up slightly, about to launch into an eager inquiry regarding how Monty was like at the hospital ( he never told them anything ), but a flicker in the other man’s expression gave him pause. Dom may not have been gifted in telepathy or empathy, but he was no fool. Though he stumbled and floundered in most social situations, this was more due to his innate awkwardness rather than a lack of sensitivity to certain cues, nuances. And though this Brody offered him an excellent example of a smile, a grin, he couldn’t help but sense an undertone of uncertainty, hesitation.

…of pain?

“Yeah. Montgomery Lacroix. Monty.” Dom spoke carefully, his gaze searching the other man’s face for another sign, a break, a mere quiver in his expression, his manner. “He’s…err…the one who’s in charge or who uhm takes care of me. Of everyone really. It’s his other job. Basically, the most reliable right hand man we could ask for.” Dom offered him a soft, tentative smile. “I’m guessing you know him, then?”

***

Brody listens to the other man explain Monty. A unique feeling and experience in all of it because the only other person he’d ever met who knew the man was Isabel. And while he’d partied with her while Monty was there, they hadn’t really had a private, personal conversation. It was weird hearing about the man. Some confirmation of his life here that he hadn’t realized he was lacking.

That family that he hadn’t wanted Brody to be a part of.

And for once, the smile on his face doesn’t come as easily, but he still keeps it there. It takes some nurturing of his own thoughts, some convincing by himself that this wasn’t bad. That everything the man in front of him had said about Monty was good. A confirmation that he was good at what he did, that it might be a reason he didn’t want a disaster like Brody to ruin something like that. It was just one thing to know there was a reason, and another to have it standing right in front of him.

“Uh, yeah,” Brody nods, because this was still really new to him. Lying, playing shadow games. He was always so open and honest and found humor in how messed up life could be. Feeling the other side of it, the...uncertainty of where he stood with Monty, with his family, and with this town, something he hadn’t been expecting.

“We’re friends,” then for just a kick in the pants for Monty, because the asshole deserved a little bit karmatic justice, even if Brody was the only one in on the joke, he grinned a little wider. “Surprised he hasn’t mentioned me, actually.”

#dom #dom001

The world’s spinning, making waves beneath his feet and he’d already landed on his ass once while he’d tried to make the trek home from the bar to his apartment. It had been a different bar than he’d been to before, trying to find a place for himself that made sense. Turns out he wasn’t really sure if he liked smaller towns. New Orleans had been fantastic. St. Louis as well. The bigger, the better and the more it had to offer someone like him.

Here, it seemed like he couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone he recognized. And while it typically wasn’t a bad thing, there was also the very real thought in his head that he was already getting closer to people than what he was used to. Sam one of them. He’d found a kindred spirit in her, as ridiculous as that sounded with everything he’d gathered from her. Typically, he’d spend a night like this out drinking with her. But she had a job and so did he and they didn’t always align.

He’d drunk far more than he’d meant to and it resulted in him swaying down the street at one in the morning trying to make his way into some sort of familiar territory. This was his town now, he had to get to know it. Except he didn’t. And he was too drunk to think of the idea to call for an uber. If he’ll claim that his thoughts were desperate times called for desperate measures, there was an even bigger thought in his mind that Monty had come over after work. That he still didn’t know what that meant about each other, but tonight he was too drunk to care.

And obviously too drunk to make it home.

So he found himself on the sidewalk. Not even a bench or a stone to sit on, just the sidewalk, on the curb, with his elbow resting on his knee and the other holding his phone out in front of him, dialing Monty’s number. When the phone picked up and he heard the man’s voice, he smiled, forgetting for a moment why he’d called the man.

“Hey, Monty, hey,” he greets, like the man was the one who called him. “Are you busy?”

@parasympathic