#frost;

[verminki]

so i like making pokemon teams for ocs too much, here's some for other ocs i have qwq

Frost

Inki

Elwyn Lavellan

[disxntegrate]

The diner's family owned, and Jay knows the family. If that's some insurance against the man he's meeting, it's nothing he volunteers over the phone. He'd rather not strong arm him into anything, and if he views everything as though he's playing some long game of chess, it doesn't mean he's trying to toy with him either. Ideally he wants there to be trust there, and he's well aware that right now there's not much on either side. not with the destruction left at Pelican Bay and the mess that followed them back.

He's done his best to get a handle on the fallout, but it's been harder when he's spent the last two weeks or so holed up with Eli Gray while he sweat out the poison in his veins. If it's not where he wanted to be, he still can't hold too much bitterness for it, not when he promised the man help when it was over. He'd been dead. Damaged was still preferable to another grave housing one of his friends.

He sits at the booth, waiting with a trademark patience, a cup of coffee, and a file on the seat next to him. It was harder than it should've been to get the information, but he has enough connections that it didn't cost him much either. Whether the man coming through the door appreciates it or not is another story.

[tragicflxws]

Do the job, then quit. That had been the deal, for the most part unspoken except for Jay's promises that he'd get him help afterwards. He didn't know what that meant for him, if he wanted to put him in a facility or force him through detox. He didn't ask. In retrospect he didn't really remember promising to quit. And now he wonders why he should, when there's the possibility he can keep both. He's too far removed from bad trips and blank spaces, too high again on his own power.

And everything he shot into himself when he got back. Jay wasn't here now anyway, he'd gotten in the car with Cole and his daughter, and good for them. Never let the man say he hadn't done anything for him. It's the kind of thought that has a lazy smile on his lips when someone comes knocking on his door, and he's hazy enough that he thinks he's happy to see just about anyone when he tugs it open. "Hey son."

[unholyromansoldier]

Roman's already in a foul mood by the time he gets there, nothing he thinks isn't understandable. Any man under the same circumstances would be, and they're not walking into the same kind of clusterfuck he is. A compound raid. Nine dead, another twenty-some wounded, and that was just on their side. No numbers on how many had escaped yet because they were still working on bringing some of them back in.

The files were spread out across the table in front of him, the door shut because everyone else had gone home for the night. Someone was supposed to be coming in from California tomorrow to continue briefing them, and he didn't know yet if it was anything that could help. If anything at all, because the pictures he was staring at was the kind of thing national news was probably crawling all over. Big names that were good at staying under the radar, and now it was in his hands.

He glanced up when the door opened, no change in expression regardless what he felt about the man coming in. Mostly he thought he didn't take things seriously enough, but beyond that, he was just someone he worked with when he had to. "Look at this," he snapped, sliding the file across the table. "This is Wheeler's work."

[tragicflxws]

He's too warm, too fucked up, and his heart's beating too fast in his chest, enough that it almost hurts when it slams against his rib cage. It makes his breathing constricted, though maybe that's just panic because he thinks he's dying. Maybe it's a bad trip, maybe it's just the cocaine, or maybe he's about to die, seize up and choke to death on his own tongue on the bathroom floor. And he's scared, which doesn't help, his hands shaking as he runs water over his head to try and cool himself off, but it just leaves him shivering.

There's too much in his system for him to think straight, the bathroom spinning around him in a blur and making him forget there's anything outside it. He thinks he's been trapped in this room for an eternity and that just makes the claustrophobia worse, his breath coming in quick, choked gasps that make his lungs hurt. He's not aware of the knocking, less aware of the door opening because he never locked it after Cole left yesterday. And he's barely aware of the voice that follows.

[frcstisms-blog]

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[frcstisms-blog]

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