#interphrase

[exterminx]

@interphrase​

             “They keep saying my blood pressure is out of control, so ....” He trails off, for a moment, scratching idly at his eyebrow in silence. It feels ... strange, to try to have a conversation this way. Sitting on his basement steps, with a glass of bourbon, leaned into the wall so he can pretend it’s casual somehow, when it’s not. “They limited me to two glasses of alcohol a day. No coffee, everything’s gotta be decaf, which is -- ...”

He shrugs. Sighs. Nearly laughs, because it feels ridiculous, all things considered. He’d never really been all that heavy a drinker, not since he’d gotten his PTSD under control. But he wanted it more, now. It was like an itch. But that’s not the kind of thing you say to people. Not in this situation. So he takes a breath. Lets silence linger.

Honestly, he’s not even sure Carlos is listening, anymore. But he can’t just let him sit in the basement for days on end, being ... half a person. And this is the closest to normal he can get, he’s pretty sure. “Harper wanted to come say hi. Verity’s doing a good job of keeping her from asking too many questions, though, at least. Which ... helps.”

He trails off.

“Carlos, can you please just -- just come try to talk to me for like, five minutes?”

[exitiumparit]

@interphrase​ || closed starter

Abra is....exhausted.

She stepped out for awhile to make some calls, check in on a few names, but she feels weary. This story is weighing heavily on her. It’s not related to the Knot, but tragedy and senseless killing always feels just as evil as if the death had come from Rose’s hands.

Tomas is still at her hotel, shaking off the vision that had shaken him so badly. When she makes it in with some dinner for them both, he’s not there anymore. Huh. She’d said she’d check in with Mouse herself so it wouldn’t make sense for him to be there, but there’s too much of a sense of....safety...in the room that Abra doesn’t worry too deeply.

Frankly, she’s thankful for the privacy to take a long, hot shower, and cry the stress out of her heart without Tomas there to fret over her.

Eventually she’s perched on the bed with her notebooks and a take-out container when the door opens. Abra smiles at him through her glasses.

“I got dinner. It’s on the desk if you’re hungry. Were you finally smart enough to go see your sister?”

[foxymuses]

@interphrase a thing that is honestly overdue but *shrugs*

he’s been out for a few hours. went on a run, sat in the sun for a bit, did some research at a cafe. had to get out of the hotel, the same drab walls draining his motivation. plus it’s getting warmer now, and even if it’s been a year, george still remembers the panicked realization that he might never see the sun again, so he takes it where he can get it. 

so george is feeling refreshed when he gets back to the hotel room, ready to just... relax, or something. he opens the door, gives a soft greeting to the man inside, and moves to set his laptop bag on the table.

that’s when he sees it.

a stone sinks in his stomach, eyes wide, unblinking, fingers trembling as he reaches for the dvd because it can’t be here. fingers brush the plastic and his hand pulls back like it’s been burned, panicked expression turning towards nick. “did you --- did you watch this?”

[whcwashe]

@interphrase​

           “ -- You know Peter just, like -- pours bourbon on his ice cream?” It’s not a revelation, really, so much as it is an explanation. Because she, by far, had the lowest tolerance in the house. So it made reasonable enough sense, for her to be tipsy, and half asleep on Carlos’s chest when it wasn’t even ten o’clock. She muffles a laugh against his shoulder, after a moment. Nose wrinkling briefly as she settles into him with a sigh. It was nice, actually. The whole evening had been. Normal. Her hands were fine for the first time in months, and as tired as she was, it didn’t seem insurmountable. And there was no real reason why any of that should make her sad, but -- “Would it be wrong of me ... to not want to go back? To Atlanta, I mean.”

[skymma]

happy birthday @interphrase ! 

[orderresisted]

interphrase replied to your post: ❛ roses are red , violets are blue. how the hell...

Poe: only 13%?

         We’re already physically affectionate enough, according to Wookiepedia. I figured to give us that authenticity, I’d add more as a cushion just in case we couldn’t pull off other married couple things.

[xtrusthim]

@interphrase​

            “ -- She hates me.” 

Alright, it’s not the best thing he could say immediately upon settling into bed, but he can’t stop himself either. He feels like a kicked puppy. And sure, it was Liv’s right to be .... distant with him after he’d been absent for over twenty years, but he didn’t like it, either. Not when she seemed perfectly willing to talk to Damien. Or anyone else who came into the house. 

He sighs, roughly scrubbing at his face as he sinks into his own mattress. Maybe they should’ve talked about it before, but it didn’t exactly feel safe, chatting about it in open spaces. And as gruff as he can be ... he still feels better, dragging Damien in as close as possible. So he does, catching the other man’s sweater to pull him in. 

“I should’ve figured something else out, I can’t do this -- the parenting thing ...”

[shiningtorrance-moved]

( closed starter for @interphrase )

Honestly, Dan shouldn’t be this surprised at this point.

But when one of the hospice guests tells him that he’s not quite human, it takes a few minutes to process.

Jonathan Cowart, aged 87, supernatural being, insists on receiving Last Rites even though there isn’t really any Catholic church less than three hours away from Frazier.

Thankfully, he has a phone number for Dan, because of course he does.

He's at the diner they arranged to meet at, sipping on his second mug of coffee, when the priest walks in; he only looks up when the man nears his booth, and by that time he knows they should probably make the handshake short if they want to avoid a scene.

Standing up, he holds his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Father.”