Sep 03 04:24:37 105 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Thu Sep 03 04:24:37 105 PA.
Desmond settles down at the table with his plate. The smell of ham and eggs will fill the apartment, a second plate settled down at the spot beside him. Clad comfortably in a loose pair of sweatpants, his chosen and only about the house attire, he's taken the duty of breakfast preparation on himself. All in readiness for when Aimee will emerge. His jacket remains where it was tossed the night before, lain across an arm of the couch, often given to being tossed here or there as is convenient for him from one day to the next.
Aimee emerges from the bedroom, her hair in chaos, padding across the room with bare feet and wearing an oversized man's shirt. She reaches the table, and curls herself into the chair, one foot resting on the seat. "Morning..." She murmurs, reaching for the plate, giving him a smile that holds the sleepiness in her face, as she nibbles the food.
"A good one," Desmond replies, pausing in his own eating to look towards her, a hand lifted to extend a soft touch along her shoulder. "Just as you like them," he adds, dipping his head towards the plate. "You slept very well the night before." A comment with a light question in it as he lets his eyes linger on her for a few moments after, as if to better receive her potential response.
She eats quietly before giving him a quick smile, the sleepiness not leaving her. "I was tired. I have today off, honey, I might track Ragnar down, see perhaps if he wants dinner with us." She licks her fingers clean before picking up another piece of ham with her fingers, ignoring cutlery. "Do you have plans?"
"I must go in briefly today," Desmond replies, looking back to his plate then as he elaborates. "I am needed for a few hours to aid in an inventory of new stock.. moving items about, but after that I will be free. We can have the dinner this night if the chance presents, but if not we can plan proper date." He takes up a strip of ham, but pauses before devouring it to add, "I found an intriguing thing to draw a few nights before. Perhaps you might enjoy it.. my sketchpad is in my jacket, if you would like to see it." A soft note of pride rising up with that offer before he sees to making that portion of ham and more disappear.
Aimee uncurls, stretching as she rises from the chair, the movement baring her stomach beneath the shirt, revealing that the shirt is all the clothing. "Which pocket?" She asks, as she picks up the coat, sliding her hands into her pockets. There is a brief pause, her back to Desmond, before she speaks. "Desmond. Is there anything you wish to tell me?" She pulls the pad from his coat, turning with something small in the palm of her clenched hand.
Desmond glances toward Aimee as she rises. Mutely appreciative of her as ever, though also appreciative of his own maturing cooking skills as well. He continues to eat with an unconcerned air about him. "The large, interior pocket," he rumbles in reply to her question on where, without lifting his gaze towards her. He does glance towards her at that second question, the tone of it touching off warning bells all by itself. At first he is bemused by it, brow subtly furrowed as he looks to her. With her fingers curled around the object in question, it gives him no clues and he shakes his head as he states, "I would show you what I did render. I think I did well with it, considering." He still seems somewhat confused.. mildly uncertain and questioning as he gazes at Aimee.
Aimee moves to the table, dropping his notepad on to it with a slap. Her face is set, emptied of emotion. "I think, me, I have lost my appetite." She turns, stalking towards the bedroom, bare legs stretched. Her hand is clasped around something and her eyes have darkened until they are like chips of emerald. Her lips are tight, holding the emotions inside.
Desmond frowns deeply at this and as she turns to go, his chair scrapes as he rises. The lightness of before faded, his own expression sunk back into his usual firm neutraliry. "Aimee, what is wrong?" She'll get perhaps half way across the living room before he has moved from the table and pursued, reaching out for one of her arms with a gentle firmness. "You know I do not like it when you hold things in. There is no resolution in this and we should let nothing linger between us like this.. what has upset you? Tell me, that it might be fixed."
Aimee turns, lifting an eyebrow, the expression on her face chilled and hard. "I think perhaps you should know what upset me, and if you don't, perhaps I shouldn't tell you." She lifts her hands, a gesture to keep him away before she walks into the bedroom. She grabs her jeans, yanking them on, before she pulls her fingers through her hair, restoring some calm to the chaos. "I am going out."
Desmond frowns deeply, letting her go into the bedroom. He lingers out in the living room, at least trying to consider just what has happened. Its early.. and for his part, he'd somewhat forgotten about his little sample pack. So it takes a few moments for the clues to slip him in the right direction. But once he does realize, he's moving forward again. This time appearing in the doorway of the bedroom, just as she's coming to state her coming departure. Of course, with his large frame filling the doorway, that could be troublesome. "You discovered the drug in my jacket," he states, expression firm. "To be honest, I had forgotten it was there, but there is no need for you to worry. You know me.. my ways. I am not one to be enslaved by chemicals."
Aimee shows no sign that she is listening as she tugs on her shoes, reaching for her coat. Her face is utterly cold. "Oui, I'm sure." She comments in reply to his explanation, but nothing changes, and she turns to him only to throw the packet at him. "I think you can keep these." She grabs a bag from the side, using her hand to lift her curls from her coat collar, before turning towards the door.
"Aimee." The name rumbled firmly, the volume of his deep voice rising meaningfully. It is a rare thing for him to raise his voice so, especially to her. But he does it in this moment, wanting her attention. Lingering before her, intent that she will not pass him.. not yet. "Not this time. You dismiss so easily.. your fire cannot be denied, but not this time. We will speak. We will listen. We will not part in turmoil as before, for it is not how it should be. I wish you to listen to me.. to truly listen. If, when we finish speaking, you are not satisfied, I will not stay your departure."
She folds her arms, her face utterly closed, cold. "Non. I don't want to listen, and I don't want to stay or speak." She isn't shouting, even raising her voice at all, but the words are definite, clipped. She swings her bag over her shoulder, stepping forward, to move past him, her chin lifted, but the heat in her eyes is missing, cold there instead. Desmond rumbles lowly in his chest. Reason has been tried. So he enacts the one thing her stubbornness cannot deny. As she moves forward to step by him, he dips and spreads his arms wide. Sweeping them forward to snag at her. Quick and ever so careful this motion, looking to simply snap her up in am imprisoning embrace. Rumbling in the same moment, his voice back down to his usual, if still firm, volume level. "You will listen."
She doesn't even fight it, her arms folded across her chest, her lips tight. "You can talk at me, but you can't make me listen." The stubbornness shows in every line of her body, the tension he can feel in each part that he touches. Even her eyes refuse to look at him, staring past him, her face cold and hard, her jaw tight. Still, the fire he is used to hasn't risen, the cold in its stead.
Desmond frowns, keeping his own eyes on her, even if she refuses to look at him. "Think you I will be like your brother?" Leading off straight to the heart. "Think you I will take such a path, after all you have known of me? How often do I drink, Aimee? Very rarely. You know how well I maintain myself. I do not even eat at the Happy Burger, for the food there is of such poor quality." He pauses briefly, but doesn't expect a true response, wading on without waiting for one. "I met a man who offered those to me for free. Why? For a simple reason. I look for something that can be used in times of dire need to enhance my prowess briefly. I did not have plans to ingest those pills. I plan to have them examined by one trained in such things. To know their effectiveness and to know their side effects. While I seek something that I can use to enhance myself, I do not want something that will effect my body strongly.. that will produce a craving. I would not do that to you, thus I have been very careful in my search for them. Indeed, I doubt I will find anything that meets the strict lines I draw. But I do seek.. for while I do wish to be strong for you, I would never sacrifice myself in such a way for it. For I know acutely now how it would hurt you.. especially after the coming of your brother. I know, Aimee. I have seen it in your eyes."
Aimee waits, her eyes on the wall behind him. Her face, if anything, hardens. "Oui. Are we done?" She does look at him then, her chin lifted to do so, her eyes bright but hard, her face set and lacking any emotions. "If so,..." She lifts an eyebrow, waiting for him to release her, to step aside.
Desmond frowns faintly, obvious having hoped for something.. more. "And you have nothing to say to this?" Frowning again as he stares at her firmly. Not yet letting her go just yet, obviously not quite done. "I had hoped that perhaps you might open yourself to me. But I can see my words are wasted in the now, so I will wait." He emits a deep huff then and lets his arms relax, allowing her to slip down lightly to the floor. "Go, Aimee. I will be ready when you are, to resolve this. As I have before, as I ever shall be." He shifts his stance, opening her way out of the bedroom. "I will be waiting," he finishes.
She gives him a look, stepping away, her gaze steady but emotionless. Not even anger shows in her face as she nods and walks past him to the door. "What precisely do you expect me to say? That oui, sure, use drugs." She shakes her head, hand on the door handle, opening the door, speaking as she leaves. "You wonder why he gave you some? To hook you. It is how they work. To give you the free pills so you come to them for more, and more, then more heavy ones." She shrugs as she steps out of the door. "And then you are no better than the addicts that will do anything for their fix."
"Then you did not hear a word I spoke to you. I will share them again when you wish to listen." Desmond says this with no small level of frustration in his voice. Turning after sending that after her departing form. Though his own appetite has waned, he forces himself back to the table to eat the remainder of his breakfast. Needed fuel, even if he won't enjoy it as he would have before. He keeps a tight rein on that frustration, not wishing his control to slip, so he will deliberately go about cleaning up after the meal and preparing for his half day at work. Looking forward to a little mindless exertion to work out some of that frustration. Location:Kingsdale - Desmond's Flat Tags:aimee, desmond
