#x78091

[gobagx]

[ 29 ] jack discovers mark with their head in the freezer trying to cool off.

❝  I━,  ❞  stops  himself  short,  does  jack,  head  cocking  to  the  side  in  that  dog-like  way  he  does.  he  blinks,  takes  in  the  sight  of  mark,  bent  over  forward,  with  his  head  stuck  in  the  freezer.  jack  flattens  his  lips  together  into  a  line  and  clears  his  throat.  ❝  trying  to  give  yourself  brain  freeze?  because,  you  know,  as  a  medical  professional  i've  read  studies  saying  ice  cream  is  the  faster  way.  ❞  hand  goes  to  mark's  arched  back  and  splays  out  calloused  fingers,  patting  a  couple  of  times  rhythmically.  ❝  AC  go  out  again  at  HQ?  ❞  jack  reaches  in,  retrieves  actual  ice  packs.  exhaustive  heat  must  be  torture  with  a  brain  tumor,  this  jack  can  safely  assume. 

[gallowsleapcd]

plotted thing for @x78091 !

she'd had her eye on this target for weeks, months even. her process hadn't failed her yet, spending day in and day out learning his routine, assessing as much about him as she could before she'd opt to make her move. it had to be timed to perfection, especially if she was to get away with it. but she'd done that plenty of times before to. and tonight was meant to be the night –– her alibi was already lined up and ready to go. she just had to make sure she got this part right.

she always had done her best work at night. she felt protected by the darkness, invincible almost. she'd learned early on that if you were going to keep killing, you had to be confident in it. where there was doubt, there were mistakes.

the blonde tiptoed carefully through the home of her target –– he was set to be here alone, as he had been every other time she'd observed him. but there was a noise. more than one, that she wasn't anticipating. a change in routine could ruin everything –– possibly send her straight to jail, which would unravel her whole existence. no, it couldn't be. surely.

one more step, and florence's eyes fell upon a sight that she'd never have been able to prepare for, not in a million years. someone had beaten her to it.

"shit." she cursed quietly under her breath, brain already racing with how she was to get out, flee the scene, and never have to revisit again. for once, she was innocent. those thoughts were interrupted as she turned, only for her gaze to meet that of the person who'd done her job for her. she had no choice –– she had to run.

[lindscys]

for @x78091 !

"what's up with your face?" question cut through the sudden quiet of the room as others had begun to filter out, preoccupied with their own lives, their own priorities. erin had noticed it though –– something not quite right about mark –– and she was using this brief moment of reprieve to find out what.

"you've had that look on it all day." she clarified, though added, "unless you've had some sort of botched facelift, in which case i'll pretend i never asked until you get it sorted." a light addition, an excuse to wave the question off with ease if that was what he'd prefer.

[cerynitiis]

at the sound of a pained cry elia has come rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door open on her way in. worried gaze finds mark first, tears of frustration and pain fresh in his green eyes, then fall to the phone dangling loosely in his hand, the mess on the floor. the tiles are covered in pills: his pain medication that hasn't been enough for at least six weeks now. elia puts two and two together. she walks over quickly, suppressing her own grief, and puts her arms around him to soothe him, one hand gently bringing his head down on her shoulder. " shh. shh, baby. tell me what happened. tell me what happened. "

@x78091

[cerynitiis]

tonight promises to be a long night. it's only been fifteen minutes and she's already had three 'scuse me's – paired with the predictable touch at her waist or hips – and at least half a dozen leery stairs from men well into their fifties. but she's glad for the opportunity; mark is gone tonight anyway, presumably on some dangerous, reckless mission she does not dare think about, and she could use the extra cash. she can barely afford her rent on the waitressing salary alone.

elia takes a deep breath and steps back outside with a new tray, forced smile on her lips. the night air feels fresh, cool on her face. she has barely turned the corner when she almost bumps into a couple. she opens her mouth to ask canapés ? when she is struck dumb. it's mark, in the tux she laid out for him earlier, a gorgeous dark-haired, petite woman in a satin dress perched on his arm. she feels a range of emotions: jealousy, anger, betrayal, hurt. it takes a second before realization kicks in. it's not a date. it's a mission. " um. canapés ? "

@x78091

[archive-benbraeden]

ben was nothing if not a weak man. sitting at the familiar dinner table underneath the lowly warm lights, looking to his side where his mother sits, settling in to have her dinner that ben prepared that night. there's something that bleeds to the surface of his war torn countenance, but he masquerades it quickly with a personable smile when lisa turns to look at him with a smile, the hunter unbeknownst that the djinn is watching, using this memory to further it's dinner on the braeden. rising from his seat, ben takes his empty plate and gives his mother a gentle squeeze on her shoulder in passing, as he sinks further into the house, movements almost mechanical, still remembering like muscle memory where everything is.

he turns the corner, puts the plate in the sink, turns on the water, reaches with his right hand just a little bit out to grab the soap, sprays some on the dirty dishes until suddenly, within a breath, he has his hands on the pistol that was tucked meticulously in the waistband of his jeans on the bow of his spine, more familiar than this house they stand in now, comfortable in his grasp when he holds the end of the barrel at the stranger that he has never seen before. out of place from the picture perfect mirage that the djinn seemed to have conjured up for the braeden here. "what the hell are you doing here?" ben asks, but within a barely there whisper, low enough for the other to hear but still masked by the still running water, planned from the moment ben walked into the room. @x78091

[joyousdefunct]

he's seen the lines before, the ones that stretch across joan's forehead, her furrow. the very same ones that appear with his own perpetual furrow. "hey," mark starts, leaning over her to open the glovebox. should know better than to keep these-- they're prescription, he'll be okay. at a redlight, dumps out one pill into his palm holding his hand out to her, "it's vicodin, it'll help."

“nah, i shouldn’t,” but that red light’s flared out like spilled ink and every glimpse of the sun feels like a knife to her grey matter. maaaybe she overdid it on the malbec last night.

“ ... you don’t mind?”

sliding her sunnies off the crown of her head, joan takes the pill and washes it down with the mcdonald’s oj warming in the center console. and because she’d rather not talk about her obvious hangover:

“what about you?”

“how's, uh, everything?”

@x78091 // unprompted

[interniist]

@x78091  ✱❙∥  you're making a big deal out of nothing . i'll be fine .

“  maybe so . but since you're already here , might as well let me check you out .  ”  a pause , just a beat for it to sink in that his word choice could have been 𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍 considering the man is sitting on the gurney naked from the belt up . except for the sling , but that's asking an awful lot of a couple strips of fabric .  “  your shoulder , check out your shoulder .  ”

saved it .

maybe he shouldn't have agreed to stick around after his shift was over . nothing 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 won't cure .  “  nurse said you came down hard on your arm before it started hurting . that right ?  ”

smart money is on 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 , but he hasn't seen it without the sling yet .