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dolevalanTitle: Empty
Fandom: Original (Arthur Sloane)
Rating: PG
He had once wanted something. He knew this. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember what it was. He let the cigarette burn down without taking a drag, staring at the concrete slab with his kid brother’s name engraved on it. It was getting colder, the wind from Canada bringing winter across the lake. He didn’t bother pulling his trenchcoat closer; it wouldn’t help.
It was doubtful, at this point, whether anything would help. He lit another cigarette.
He hadn’t wanted to be sitting here, perched on a stranger’s gravestone like an oversized gargoyle as the light began to thin. He hadn’t wanted to have to choose between five graves to visit in the same cemetery. And he was certain that he hadn’t wanted to be scraping money from the few suckers down and out enough to hire a PI who looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, whose charm was in tatters and whose contacts were slowly drawing away from him like a tide going out.
A PI without any partner more reliable than his fifth of bourbon and his .38. And even those two had seemed less reliable of late.
“Sloane.”
He looked up from the small pile of ashes gathering on the ground below, like snowflakes. He knew who it was, of course, so the looking was a courtesy and not a necessity. But still…he wanted to keep things as civil as possible.
“Hey, Clark.” He flicked the rest of the cigarette away. “What’s tricks?”
Joe’s brow furrowed, his expression black, though his voice was flat as a brick wall. “You have some balls, Sloane. I’m tempted to shoot you here. Save them a hearse.”
Arthur snorted, and slipped off the tombstone, moving a few paces towards his ex-partner. “Very thoughtful of you. Roll me into the church, then roll me back out here. Wave of the future.”
Clark folded his arms and shook his head, the brim of his fedora shading his eyes in the semi-light of dusk. “I have to ask. What is it you wanted, Sloane? Why did you do all this?”
Arthur snorted again, and looked towards the horizon, profile to Joe. Quietly enough that Clark might not be able to hear it, he murmured “Not for love or money, Joe, that’s for sure.” It began to snow.
Fandom: Original (Arthur Sloane)
Rating: PG
He had once wanted something. He knew this. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember what it was. He let the cigarette burn down without taking a drag, staring at the concrete slab with his kid brother’s name engraved on it. It was getting colder, the wind from Canada bringing winter across the lake. He didn’t bother pulling his trenchcoat closer; it wouldn’t help.
It was doubtful, at this point, whether anything would help. He lit another cigarette.
He hadn’t wanted to be sitting here, perched on a stranger’s gravestone like an oversized gargoyle as the light began to thin. He hadn’t wanted to have to choose between five graves to visit in the same cemetery. And he was certain that he hadn’t wanted to be scraping money from the few suckers down and out enough to hire a PI who looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, whose charm was in tatters and whose contacts were slowly drawing away from him like a tide going out.
A PI without any partner more reliable than his fifth of bourbon and his .38. And even those two had seemed less reliable of late.
“Sloane.”
He looked up from the small pile of ashes gathering on the ground below, like snowflakes. He knew who it was, of course, so the looking was a courtesy and not a necessity. But still…he wanted to keep things as civil as possible.
“Hey, Clark.” He flicked the rest of the cigarette away. “What’s tricks?”
Joe’s brow furrowed, his expression black, though his voice was flat as a brick wall. “You have some balls, Sloane. I’m tempted to shoot you here. Save them a hearse.”
Arthur snorted, and slipped off the tombstone, moving a few paces towards his ex-partner. “Very thoughtful of you. Roll me into the church, then roll me back out here. Wave of the future.”
Clark folded his arms and shook his head, the brim of his fedora shading his eyes in the semi-light of dusk. “I have to ask. What is it you wanted, Sloane? Why did you do all this?”
Arthur snorted again, and looked towards the horizon, profile to Joe. Quietly enough that Clark might not be able to hear it, he murmured “Not for love or money, Joe, that’s for sure.” It began to snow.
