Patrick Dawn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bashfulshifter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-10-02 03:53 pm
bashfulshifter) wrote in towerofanimus2013-10-02 03:53 pm
Regains and Such
Characters: Rick and anyone else!
Setting: All day on October 2nd; prompts are floor 100, floor 26 (morgue), then floor 27 (laboratory).
Format: Starting action-spam, will match though!
Summary: Rick has feels about his regain, then goes about his usual jobs in the Tower.
Warnings: Rick has feels.
Floor 100
[The park was always most pleasant in the early fall. Its trees' bright orange and yellow leaves basked the fountain square in a perpetual glow of warmth despite the crisp weather, shielded from the main street and lakeside venues like a grotto within a wild forest--the cut stone path would be the uneven pebbles by the shore of a creek, and the fountain its burbling currents.]
[Pumpkin tea would not have been Rick's first choice of beverage to consume whilst resting in this clearing. But then again, he wouldn't have chosen to sit on the ground, either, since the bench shaded by the old oak wouldn't have been a hologram. The warm drink might've held more weight if he could feel the occasional gust of wind that very clearly rustled the loose leaves around him.]
[All of this is well and fine. Rick doesn't need the physical feedback of floor 100 to remember sitting in this park and all the feelings associated with that. It does help, though, now that he's found his wallet in his trunk--which in itself wasn't terribly important, and neither was the money, cards, receipts or other random scraps and notes and identification found within.]
[The small picture in the front pocket seems to have done a much better job at catching his eye.]
[He sits at the end of the room facing the holographic fountain, alternating between staring at the photograph and nursing his tea in listless silence.]
Morgue/Laboratory
[Of course, Rick can't stay in the park forever. It isn't until well into the afternoon when he finally gets around to his other tasks, namely cleaning the morgue and his usual collar fluid-related duties, and he'll be oddly distracted when he does. His mind is obviously somewhere else.]
[Someone should probably snap him out of it before he gets stuck in a cold locker or drops a beaker in the sink or something.]
Setting: All day on October 2nd; prompts are floor 100, floor 26 (morgue), then floor 27 (laboratory).
Format: Starting action-spam, will match though!
Summary: Rick has feels about his regain, then goes about his usual jobs in the Tower.
Warnings: Rick has feels.
Floor 100
[The park was always most pleasant in the early fall. Its trees' bright orange and yellow leaves basked the fountain square in a perpetual glow of warmth despite the crisp weather, shielded from the main street and lakeside venues like a grotto within a wild forest--the cut stone path would be the uneven pebbles by the shore of a creek, and the fountain its burbling currents.]
[Pumpkin tea would not have been Rick's first choice of beverage to consume whilst resting in this clearing. But then again, he wouldn't have chosen to sit on the ground, either, since the bench shaded by the old oak wouldn't have been a hologram. The warm drink might've held more weight if he could feel the occasional gust of wind that very clearly rustled the loose leaves around him.]
[All of this is well and fine. Rick doesn't need the physical feedback of floor 100 to remember sitting in this park and all the feelings associated with that. It does help, though, now that he's found his wallet in his trunk--which in itself wasn't terribly important, and neither was the money, cards, receipts or other random scraps and notes and identification found within.]
[The small picture in the front pocket seems to have done a much better job at catching his eye.]
[He sits at the end of the room facing the holographic fountain, alternating between staring at the photograph and nursing his tea in listless silence.]
Morgue/Laboratory
[Of course, Rick can't stay in the park forever. It isn't until well into the afternoon when he finally gets around to his other tasks, namely cleaning the morgue and his usual collar fluid-related duties, and he'll be oddly distracted when he does. His mind is obviously somewhere else.]
[Someone should probably snap him out of it before he gets stuck in a cold locker or drops a beaker in the sink or something.]
MY HERO
...Hey! [He passes a quick look between Ion and the small picture in his hand; he decides not to hide it.] N-No, it's...f-fine, really. Just, ah...you know. Th--Thinking.
[The blonde man turns back to photograph.]
u v u <3
It felt rude to pry, but as Rick didn't make any move to shy it away, Ion eventually nodded toward the photograph.]
She's someone you care about very much.
[It was a statement, not a question. Ion could tell easily that the woman in the photograph with Rick was someone dear to him. The way he stared down at it so thoughtfully and so sadly was confirmation enough.]
no subject
...Her n-name is D-Dakota P-Perkins. We've b-been m-married for f-five years.
no subject
She's beautiful.
[It seemed inappropriate to apologize. This seemed like a better substitute. Not that there was really much good that could be said, here.]
no subject
...Yeah. [He lets out another quick, breathy laugh, more like a pained wheeze, and slowly shakes his head.] ...F-Far too g-g-good for a g-guy like me.
no subject
[He smiles, and as encouraging as it is, it's a sad little thing, because Ion understands how difficult this conversation must be.] And to be loved by someone as much as you love her...she must feel so blessed.
[Ion knew he would.]
no subject
[The halfhearted chuckle that follows says he doesn't think so. Rick trails off and gives up.]
...I-If a-anyone should f-feel b-b-blessed, it'd be m-me. I m-mean, if...if th--things d-didn't work out the w-way they d-did...she n-never w-w-would've n-noticed me.
no subject
But...I think what's most important is not the circumstances of how you two found one another. Simply that you did.