It was about two hours after they spoke that Delilah rocked up to the address Ry had given her, parking her bike in the driveway and pulling off her helmet. She'd decided, while riding here, that yes, she did like this city quite a bit.

The house wasn't bad...Hell, who was she kidding: the house was really Nice. At least, it looked it from the outside. Ry was doing good for himself.

She gave a tug on the purple striped socks peeking out the top of her knee high boots and then walked over to the front door to knock.

more )
It was about two hours after they spoke that Delilah rocked up to the address Ry had given her, parking her bike in the driveway and pulling off her helmet. She'd decided, while riding here, that yes, she did like this city quite a bit.

The house wasn't bad...Hell, who was she kidding: the house was really Nice. At least, it looked it from the outside. Ry was doing good for himself.

She gave a tug on the purple striped socks peeking out the top of her knee high boots and then walked over to the front door to knock.

more )
Stephie had parked herself in her favourite tunnel, back against one side and feet pressed against the other, resting her head on her knees. She was watching the road on the far side of the skate park in the hope that she'd see Ry coming.

Ry.

She had no idea what she was going to say, so she watched the night instead. The wet concrete smeared orange and white as the streetlights reflected down on them; the dark shapes of the ramps sitting quietly against the night; the swings creaking slowly back an forth as the wind played with them. There was a constant trickle of traffic on the road, but the streach of park seemed longer, tonight, and the roar of the vehicles seemed distant. It was still only a quarter to eight, but she hadn't been able to wait around inside. Anticipation. Anxiety. Maybe a bit of fear.

God, what was she going to do if he didn't want her anymore? She couldn't really blame him- oh who was she kidding, she'd find a way to blame him. Her brain was too good at that.

She heard footsteps on the grass and her stomach turned over, she had to make a conscious effort to stop her heart making a break for it out her throat. She should not be this nervous! He was only a boy, for godssake! Except he wasn't.

What was she going to say?
The words )
Stephie had parked herself in her favourite tunnel, back against one side and feet pressed against the other, resting her head on her knees. She was watching the road on the far side of the skate park in the hope that she'd see Ry coming.

Ry.

She had no idea what she was going to say, so she watched the night instead. The wet concrete smeared orange and white as the streetlights reflected down on them; the dark shapes of the ramps sitting quietly against the night; the swings creaking slowly back an forth as the wind played with them. There was a constant trickle of traffic on the road, but the streach of park seemed longer, tonight, and the roar of the vehicles seemed distant. It was still only a quarter to eight, but she hadn't been able to wait around inside. Anticipation. Anxiety. Maybe a bit of fear.

God, what was she going to do if he didn't want her anymore? She couldn't really blame him- oh who was she kidding, she'd find a way to blame him. Her brain was too good at that.

She heard footsteps on the grass and her stomach turned over, she had to make a conscious effort to stop her heart making a break for it out her throat. She should not be this nervous! He was only a boy, for godssake! Except he wasn't.

What was she going to say?
The words )
It was almost one in the morning when the phone rang at the Victoria Lane house. Whoever it was wasn't giving up, irrespective of the hour. The phone kept ringing...

Stupid phone. Didn't everyone know when certain people didn't want to be woken up due to better offers? Ry groaned as he rolled out of his bed, leaving Slink sprawled there behind him. Of course, Deirdre wasn't in the house so she wouldn't pick up the phone immediately. Jude was probably as stead-fastly ignoring the phone as he was.

Again, the foreboding feeling pricked at him. He picked up the phone and cleared his voice ready for talking.

"Hello?"

Ah, thank god Ry had gotten up. Stupid phone. She wriggled over into the center of the bed where it was warmer and streached out, awake but eyes closed. Who called at this hour anyway- unless something bad has happened. Oh shit- Deirdre was on a plane. Stephie forced her eyes open and listened to Ry stumbling down the hall to the upstairs phone line.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then the sound of a woman choking back a sob. Finally, she spoke.

"I... I was looking for Deirdre Gallagher... I'm sorry, do I have the wrong number?"

Ry rubbed his forehead wearily. "No... you do not have the wrong number. Deirdre is currently... away. Can I ask what this is about?" he asked.

There was a ragged sigh on the other end of the phone line before the woman responded.

"Um... this is Emilie Baudrillard. Renee's mother? Um, I don't know if you know her. But she is in hospital. She..." Emilie sucked in her breath sharply as she tried to fight back tears. God, it was so hard to say it!

"The doctors say she tried to kill herself."

If it had been a movie, the phone would have dropped out of Ry's hand at Emilie's words. If it had been a movie... many things, if it had been a movie; and none of them relevant.

Ry swallowed. He'd suspected her as being less than stable, but this... What did one say when words simply wouldn't come out?

"How?" It was a stranged sound, barely resembling a word.

The voice on the other end was thick with tears, but continued talking seemed to be holding her together, at least for now.

"She stabbed herself. She was in the park. She... um... she is in the surgeon now. We do not know if she... will live."

Ry felt as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs. No. He simply couldn't be having this conversation with a disembodied voice on the other end of the line whom he'd met only once. This didn't sound like Emilie.

"No visitors?" Ry asked coldly.

Emilie sighed. "We do not know when she will be out of the surgeon." A male voice could be heard for a moment. "The surgery. We do not know when we can see her, or anyone else. Um... who is this?" She only now realised that the speaker on the other end hadn't identified himself. "I can call again when visitors are allowed..."

Stephie sat up when she heard Ry choke on a word- this sounded serious. She groped around Ry's floor for a shirt, found an old black one, and tiptoed over to the door to listen closer, ever curious.

"Yeah, do that," Ry said. "And it's Ry. We met."

"Ryan," there was a smile in Emilie's voice. Any kind of familiarity was good right now. "Renee said you were a good friend. She didn't talk about her friends much..."

The woman was crying now. It didn't seem that she would be able to speak any time soon. At a time like this, the simplest thoughts could bring one to breaking point...

"Yeah, we..." What was he going to say? Talked about philosophies on being greater than we were a lot... Hardly the kind of thing you said to a grieving mother.

No, not grieving mother. Renee was not going to die. But that still left him without know exactly what one said to a crying woman.

God... what if he had something to do with her state of mind?

There was a rustling on the other end of the line, and then a male voice spoke.

"Ryan, was it? This is Renee's father, Remy. I apologise for waking you with such terrible news. I am sure Renee will need all of her friends' support when she pulls through." Even he was swallowing back tears. He obviously didn't entirely believe what he was saying. And who could blame him?

"You will know as soon as there is anything more to tell you, I promise. Is this the best number to reach you?"

"Yeah, I never got around to getting a mobile phone."

"Alright then," Remy responded. "I hope that next time we speak, it will be good news. If you are a praying man, Ryan, now would be the time."

Ry nodded, and hung up the phone before consciously realising that Remy wouldn't be able to see it. Numbly, he wandered out into the living room and where a pile of Renee's books still lay. He opened one at the page he had read up to previously.

She was getting anxious, waiting for Ry to head back to his bed, so when he walked right past the door and down the stairs to the living room, curiosiyt gave her no choice but to follow him. "Ry," she hissed, in case Jude or Peirre were light sleepers, "what's going on?"

"Nothing, Steph. Go back to bed. I'll be up later," he said, not even glancing up from her book.

"Don't patronise me, Ry," Stephie frowned, annoyed, "what's going on?"

Ry looked over his book, exasperated. "Not patronising," he stated. God, wasn't it enough that he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep tonight? Was it too much to ask that it not be something he had to deal with until the next day? Daylight-day?

"Renee's in hospital." He clammed up on the rest. There was nobody who was going to tell him that that was everybody else's business!

"Oh..." Stephie said, searching his face for additional information. Nothing- he'd had too much practice at being unreadable. Jesus, Renee! The day after Deirdre leaves- did this have anything to do with that- no, she said she'd been feeling sick- but it must have been pretty bad to end up in hospital and to call the house after one in the morning! A thousand questions queued up in Stephie's mind, but she forced her jaw to stay wired shut for once. Pushing Ry right now would get her nowhere, she could work out that much. Why the hell was he angry at her? Well, two could play at that game... no, don't. "I have as much right to know as you do Ry," she said, knowing full well it wasn't precicly true. "Please?"

"No." Ry's eyes went back down to his book. Relenting, "Please, Slink. Go. To your own bed. I promise that I will tell you something more tomorrow. Okay?" His eyes came close to pleading with her, before the shutters came down once more and he was reading.

No, it was not okay. She wanted to know and he was treating her like a fucking child- she mentally kicked herself, hard- Stephie, don't you dare do this now. But her hands were clenched in fists, nails digging into her palms. Fuck him, Ry's superiour graces were the last thing she needed. She snapped round and walked off into the library, heaving the door shut behind her and slamming her fist into her thigh the moment she was out of sight. This was not cool, not cool. Why wouldn't he tell her anything?
It was almost one in the morning when the phone rang at the Victoria Lane house. Whoever it was wasn't giving up, irrespective of the hour. The phone kept ringing...

Stupid phone. Didn't everyone know when certain people didn't want to be woken up due to better offers? Ry groaned as he rolled out of his bed, leaving Slink sprawled there behind him. Of course, Deirdre wasn't in the house so she wouldn't pick up the phone immediately. Jude was probably as stead-fastly ignoring the phone as he was.

Again, the foreboding feeling pricked at him. He picked up the phone and cleared his voice ready for talking.

"Hello?"

Ah, thank god Ry had gotten up. Stupid phone. She wriggled over into the center of the bed where it was warmer and streached out, awake but eyes closed. Who called at this hour anyway- unless something bad has happened. Oh shit- Deirdre was on a plane. Stephie forced her eyes open and listened to Ry stumbling down the hall to the upstairs phone line.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then the sound of a woman choking back a sob. Finally, she spoke.

"I... I was looking for Deirdre Gallagher... I'm sorry, do I have the wrong number?"

Ry rubbed his forehead wearily. "No... you do not have the wrong number. Deirdre is currently... away. Can I ask what this is about?" he asked.

There was a ragged sigh on the other end of the phone line before the woman responded.

"Um... this is Emilie Baudrillard. Renee's mother? Um, I don't know if you know her. But she is in hospital. She..." Emilie sucked in her breath sharply as she tried to fight back tears. God, it was so hard to say it!

"The doctors say she tried to kill herself."

If it had been a movie, the phone would have dropped out of Ry's hand at Emilie's words. If it had been a movie... many things, if it had been a movie; and none of them relevant.

Ry swallowed. He'd suspected her as being less than stable, but this... What did one say when words simply wouldn't come out?

"How?" It was a stranged sound, barely resembling a word.

The voice on the other end was thick with tears, but continued talking seemed to be holding her together, at least for now.

"She stabbed herself. She was in the park. She... um... she is in the surgeon now. We do not know if she... will live."

Ry felt as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs. No. He simply couldn't be having this conversation with a disembodied voice on the other end of the line whom he'd met only once. This didn't sound like Emilie.

"No visitors?" Ry asked coldly.

Emilie sighed. "We do not know when she will be out of the surgeon." A male voice could be heard for a moment. "The surgery. We do not know when we can see her, or anyone else. Um... who is this?" She only now realised that the speaker on the other end hadn't identified himself. "I can call again when visitors are allowed..."

Stephie sat up when she heard Ry choke on a word- this sounded serious. She groped around Ry's floor for a shirt, found an old black one, and tiptoed over to the door to listen closer, ever curious.

"Yeah, do that," Ry said. "And it's Ry. We met."

"Ryan," there was a smile in Emilie's voice. Any kind of familiarity was good right now. "Renee said you were a good friend. She didn't talk about her friends much..."

The woman was crying now. It didn't seem that she would be able to speak any time soon. At a time like this, the simplest thoughts could bring one to breaking point...

"Yeah, we..." What was he going to say? Talked about philosophies on being greater than we were a lot... Hardly the kind of thing you said to a grieving mother.

No, not grieving mother. Renee was not going to die. But that still left him without know exactly what one said to a crying woman.

God... what if he had something to do with her state of mind?

There was a rustling on the other end of the line, and then a male voice spoke.

"Ryan, was it? This is Renee's father, Remy. I apologise for waking you with such terrible news. I am sure Renee will need all of her friends' support when she pulls through." Even he was swallowing back tears. He obviously didn't entirely believe what he was saying. And who could blame him?

"You will know as soon as there is anything more to tell you, I promise. Is this the best number to reach you?"

"Yeah, I never got around to getting a mobile phone."

"Alright then," Remy responded. "I hope that next time we speak, it will be good news. If you are a praying man, Ryan, now would be the time."

Ry nodded, and hung up the phone before consciously realising that Remy wouldn't be able to see it. Numbly, he wandered out into the living room and where a pile of Renee's books still lay. He opened one at the page he had read up to previously.

She was getting anxious, waiting for Ry to head back to his bed, so when he walked right past the door and down the stairs to the living room, curiosiyt gave her no choice but to follow him. "Ry," she hissed, in case Jude or Peirre were light sleepers, "what's going on?"

"Nothing, Steph. Go back to bed. I'll be up later," he said, not even glancing up from her book.

"Don't patronise me, Ry," Stephie frowned, annoyed, "what's going on?"

Ry looked over his book, exasperated. "Not patronising," he stated. God, wasn't it enough that he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep tonight? Was it too much to ask that it not be something he had to deal with until the next day? Daylight-day?

"Renee's in hospital." He clammed up on the rest. There was nobody who was going to tell him that that was everybody else's business!

"Oh..." Stephie said, searching his face for additional information. Nothing- he'd had too much practice at being unreadable. Jesus, Renee! The day after Deirdre leaves- did this have anything to do with that- no, she said she'd been feeling sick- but it must have been pretty bad to end up in hospital and to call the house after one in the morning! A thousand questions queued up in Stephie's mind, but she forced her jaw to stay wired shut for once. Pushing Ry right now would get her nowhere, she could work out that much. Why the hell was he angry at her? Well, two could play at that game... no, don't. "I have as much right to know as you do Ry," she said, knowing full well it wasn't precicly true. "Please?"

"No." Ry's eyes went back down to his book. Relenting, "Please, Slink. Go. To your own bed. I promise that I will tell you something more tomorrow. Okay?" His eyes came close to pleading with her, before the shutters came down once more and he was reading.

No, it was not okay. She wanted to know and he was treating her like a fucking child- she mentally kicked herself, hard- Stephie, don't you dare do this now. But her hands were clenched in fists, nails digging into her palms. Fuck him, Ry's superiour graces were the last thing she needed. She snapped round and walked off into the library, heaving the door shut behind her and slamming her fist into her thigh the moment she was out of sight. This was not cool, not cool. Why wouldn't he tell her anything?
Renee was late. She was never late. It just didn't happen. She was like clockwork, damn it. And it couldn't just be an aberration, either. Not now. It had been a week since she was due.

It could only mean one thing. But she still had to know for sure.

She rose from her bed and poked her head out of her room. It was only nine in the evening. Nobody would question her leaving the house. But still she felt as though she were doing something wrong. As though there were some sort of betrayal of trust involved here. She felt dirty.

As quietly as she could, she made her way down the stairs and out the front door. She could hear Lizzie talking on the phone in her room, and her father pottering about in the study. Mother was nowhere to be seen, probably out on the town as always. Renee hoped she wouldn't run into her.

There was a twenty-four hour shop not far from here. They would have what she wanted.

* * *


"Renee?" her father called as she returned to the house half an hour later.

"Oui?" she returned, her heart leaping in her chest. Not now. Leave me alone!

"Your friend Scarlett stopped by, but I didn't know when you would be home, so I told her you would call her later."

"Oui," she acknowledged, and made her way upstairs without another word.

* * *


Two pregnancy tests sat before her on the bathroom counter. Both of them positive. Now, she was sure.

Marcel put a little bit of himself into every magickal operation he performed...

No shit. That "little bit of himself" was now growing into a child inside of her. She felt so hollow, as if all that mattered and gave the world substance had died. As if she would never again take delight in anything in this mortal coil.

As an insurance against his murder...

No. No no no. He couldn't have... could he? But even as the thought occurred to her, she felt the stirring within her womb, and she knew it to be true.

This wasn't just Marcel's child she was carrying. It was Marcel himself. His final insurance against death, to create a child and have some hopelessly indebted girl bring it into the world for him.

But Renee knew. She knew what he had done. And she wasn't about to let him win. There were ways around this. She had power, she knew it. She had brought about his death once, the curse that had focused Deirdre's wrath upon him. She could do it again.

She grabbed the pregnancy tests and headed back into her room, discarding them under the bed where they wouldn't be found until she could dispose of them properly.

Necessity compelled her to action, and she could explain this to no one. But there was one thing that had to be said, and only one person she could say it to...


(Post a new comment)

[info]epithet_
2006-04-02 11:12 pm UTC (link) DeleteFreezeUnscreen
(Can you feel that?)
(Oh shit)

Ry read the words on his screen before him on the newly updated page. Well, he had to hand it to the girl; she had good timing - just when he'd almost been bored enough to put away his computer for the day and go busking for some fresh air, Renee put something up for him to do. Well, read anyway.

Except, this was nothing new. He'd read it before, she'd written it before; and he told her so.

'Down With the Sickness' continued to blare out at him from his computer.

Except... ages later, when she must still have been online and receiving email notification, there was no reply. And the add on at the end bothered him for some reason he could not fathom. Renee had said some outlandish things before, but this... it sounded far out of the normal even for Renee. Far away from a person who had all but recreated in him a basic belief that there was something out there that must be greater than any one man - a Creator in all things and some things.

"God Renee, don't do anything stupid," he guttered under his breath. But what more could he do from here?

As he stood up to leave the room for some headspace from the impeding feeling of dred, lyrics of the song haunted him on his way.


Don't do it again
I'll be a good boy
I'll be a good boy, I promise

Don't do it! You're hurting me Oh-oohh!
Why did you have to be such a bitch?
Why don't you,

FUCK YOU!!!
I don't need this shit
You stupid sadistic abusive fucking WHORE
Renee was late. She was never late. It just didn't happen. She was like clockwork, damn it. And it couldn't just be an aberration, either. Not now. It had been a week since she was due.

It could only mean one thing. But she still had to know for sure.

She rose from her bed and poked her head out of her room. It was only nine in the evening. Nobody would question her leaving the house. But still she felt as though she were doing something wrong. As though there were some sort of betrayal of trust involved here. She felt dirty.

As quietly as she could, she made her way down the stairs and out the front door. She could hear Lizzie talking on the phone in her room, and her father pottering about in the study. Mother was nowhere to be seen, probably out on the town as always. Renee hoped she wouldn't run into her.

There was a twenty-four hour shop not far from here. They would have what she wanted.

* * *


"Renee?" her father called as she returned to the house half an hour later.

"Oui?" she returned, her heart leaping in her chest. Not now. Leave me alone!

"Your friend Scarlett stopped by, but I didn't know when you would be home, so I told her you would call her later."

"Oui," she acknowledged, and made her way upstairs without another word.

* * *


Two pregnancy tests sat before her on the bathroom counter. Both of them positive. Now, she was sure.

Marcel put a little bit of himself into every magickal operation he performed...

No shit. That "little bit of himself" was now growing into a child inside of her. She felt so hollow, as if all that mattered and gave the world substance had died. As if she would never again take delight in anything in this mortal coil.

As an insurance against his murder...

No. No no no. He couldn't have... could he? But even as the thought occurred to her, she felt the stirring within her womb, and she knew it to be true.

This wasn't just Marcel's child she was carrying. It was Marcel himself. His final insurance against death, to create a child and have some hopelessly indebted girl bring it into the world for him.

But Renee knew. She knew what he had done. And she wasn't about to let him win. There were ways around this. She had power, she knew it. She had brought about his death once, the curse that had focused Deirdre's wrath upon him. She could do it again.

She grabbed the pregnancy tests and headed back into her room, discarding them under the bed where they wouldn't be found until she could dispose of them properly.

Necessity compelled her to action, and she could explain this to no one. But there was one thing that had to be said, and only one person she could say it to...


(Post a new comment)

[info]epithet_
2006-04-02 11:12 pm UTC (link) DeleteFreezeUnscreen
(Can you feel that?)
(Oh shit)

Ry read the words on his screen before him on the newly updated page. Well, he had to hand it to the girl; she had good timing - just when he'd almost been bored enough to put away his computer for the day and go busking for some fresh air, Renee put something up for him to do. Well, read anyway.

Except, this was nothing new. He'd read it before, she'd written it before; and he told her so.

'Down With the Sickness' continued to blare out at him from his computer.

Except... ages later, when she must still have been online and receiving email notification, there was no reply. And the add on at the end bothered him for some reason he could not fathom. Renee had said some outlandish things before, but this... it sounded far out of the normal even for Renee. Far away from a person who had all but recreated in him a basic belief that there was something out there that must be greater than any one man - a Creator in all things and some things.

"God Renee, don't do anything stupid," he guttered under his breath. But what more could he do from here?

As he stood up to leave the room for some headspace from the impeding feeling of dred, lyrics of the song haunted him on his way.


Don't do it again
I'll be a good boy
I'll be a good boy, I promise

Don't do it! You're hurting me Oh-oohh!
Why did you have to be such a bitch?
Why don't you,

FUCK YOU!!!
I don't need this shit
You stupid sadistic abusive fucking WHORE
It was Sunday morning, just after eleven, and Stephie was on a mission. She sat on the end of her bed, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the cold. The cordless phone sat in her lap and she was twisting the peice of paper with Father Peter's phone number on her hands till it was completely crinkled. Her nerves were set to overpower her, but the anxiety of not knowing if she was healthy or not had been building and building, exponintially this past week and she'd come to the firm conclusion that knowing was better than wondering.

Well, perhaps the conclusion wasn't quite so firm as she wished, because her stomach was all in knots. She'd decided last night that she did want to go by herself; she wanted to be alone to deal with bad news, needed time to process it before sharing it with Ry and the others. Even though she was certain of Ry's support, she didn't want him there- didn't want anyone there. She'd slept in his bed last night while he was at Jocelin's- hey, he'd offered, and there was a kind of confort in it.

But now... now she swallowed all her nerves and smoothed out the peice of paper, then, with every scrap of determination in her she punched in Father Peter's phone number, counting the rings while she waited.

Getting help )
It was Sunday morning, just after eleven, and Stephie was on a mission. She sat on the end of her bed, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the cold. The cordless phone sat in her lap and she was twisting the peice of paper with Father Peter's phone number on her hands till it was completely crinkled. Her nerves were set to overpower her, but the anxiety of not knowing if she was healthy or not had been building and building, exponintially this past week and she'd come to the firm conclusion that knowing was better than wondering.

Well, perhaps the conclusion wasn't quite so firm as she wished, because her stomach was all in knots. She'd decided last night that she did want to go by herself; she wanted to be alone to deal with bad news, needed time to process it before sharing it with Ry and the others. Even though she was certain of Ry's support, she didn't want him there- didn't want anyone there. She'd slept in his bed last night while he was at Jocelin's- hey, he'd offered, and there was a kind of confort in it.

But now... now she swallowed all her nerves and smoothed out the peice of paper, then, with every scrap of determination in her she punched in Father Peter's phone number, counting the rings while she waited.

Getting help )
It wasn't long after their LJ conversation that Ry had shown up at Renee's house, ready for the Tarot reading. It seemed a little strange to be doing this, as Renee led him up to her room. The altar had been prepared with candles and incense, Aleister Crowley's Thoth deck sitting ready on its silk in the centre.

Tarot reading )
It wasn't long after their LJ conversation that Ry had shown up at Renee's house, ready for the Tarot reading. It seemed a little strange to be doing this, as Renee led him up to her room. The altar had been prepared with candles and incense, Aleister Crowley's Thoth deck sitting ready on its silk in the centre.

Tarot reading )
"Again, I'm sorry for last week," Ry apologised over the phone.

"No, that's fine. We both understand the importance of life thing and how they get in the way." Ry could hear the smile in Kate's voice on the other end of the line. He didn't understand how she could always be so nice and good natured. Unlike anybody else he knew. "Bring Rhea back say about 5pm and we'll do dinner over here like we planned for last time. Is there anything you don't like eating?"

*

Rhea looked at her older brother adoringly. )
"Again, I'm sorry for last week," Ry apologised over the phone.

"No, that's fine. We both understand the importance of life thing and how they get in the way." Ry could hear the smile in Kate's voice on the other end of the line. He didn't understand how she could always be so nice and good natured. Unlike anybody else he knew. "Bring Rhea back say about 5pm and we'll do dinner over here like we planned for last time. Is there anything you don't like eating?"

*

Rhea looked at her older brother adoringly. )
Ry lay in bed, Del lying asleep beside him. He was still wide awake. Thinking. After being more rough with her than he ever had been, Ry had finally realised what 'Hell spider' had been up his arse these past days. Ever since he had realised what had happened to Slink. He still didn't know whether she wanted him to go to the doctor with her. He still didn't know and couldn't ask because as of pretty much now, she and Jude were in France. Doing god knows what.

And hell, damn him if he wouldn't admit he was worried about her )
Ry lay in bed, Del lying asleep beside him. He was still wide awake. Thinking. After being more rough with her than he ever had been, Ry had finally realised what 'Hell spider' had been up his arse these past days. Ever since he had realised what had happened to Slink. He still didn't know whether she wanted him to go to the doctor with her. He still didn't know and couldn't ask because as of pretty much now, she and Jude were in France. Doing god knows what.

And hell, damn him if he wouldn't admit he was worried about her )
She'd found herself writing the text before she even got back to London. Sitting in the car beside her mum on the way home discussing past life regression and its links to meditation Scarlett had found herself zoning out a little to write the message. Hey Ry, can I see you today?

She hoped it hadn't sounded too much like a date but soon he'd replied with a yes and relief had filled her. She wasn't really sure who else she could talk with at the moment. Not about Renee and Kait. Everyone seemed to close to it for her to get her head around the situation.

So two hours later she found herself knocking on Ry's door and waiting, nervously, for him to answer.

more )
She'd found herself writing the text before she even got back to London. Sitting in the car beside her mum on the way home discussing past life regression and its links to meditation Scarlett had found herself zoning out a little to write the message. Hey Ry, can I see you today?

She hoped it hadn't sounded too much like a date but soon he'd replied with a yes and relief had filled her. She wasn't really sure who else she could talk with at the moment. Not about Renee and Kait. Everyone seemed to close to it for her to get her head around the situation.

So two hours later she found herself knocking on Ry's door and waiting, nervously, for him to answer.

more )
"Thanks. Making things uncomfortable between me and my flat mate. Exactly what I needed." Ry reached over and turned the monitor off. Beside him, Jocelin stood with hands up innocently.

"Hey, I can't help it if Denny can't take a joke," he said. He glanced down as he rummaged around in his pocket.

"But you can help from riling her further," Ry said pointedly. "And it's 'Deirdre'."

Jocelin just shrugged. "What's the difference, eh? Denny, Deirdre, it's only a name." He looked up and reached towards Ry's computer.

Ry slapped his friend's hand away in a no computer for you fashion )
"Thanks. Making things uncomfortable between me and my flat mate. Exactly what I needed." Ry reached over and turned the monitor off. Beside him, Jocelin stood with hands up innocently.

"Hey, I can't help it if Denny can't take a joke," he said. He glanced down as he rummaged around in his pocket.

"But you can help from riling her further," Ry said pointedly. "And it's 'Deirdre'."

Jocelin just shrugged. "What's the difference, eh? Denny, Deirdre, it's only a name." He looked up and reached towards Ry's computer.

Ry slapped his friend's hand away in a no computer for you fashion )

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