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tampered2008-05-05 12:43 am
glock30.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-05-05 12:43 am
Log; Complete
When; Sunday night (5/4) | 9PM
Rating; PG-13; because everyone knows how Faye's mouth works.
Characters; Gren (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
notapreacher) & Faye (glock30)
Summary; There's a difference between a few nights ago and a few months ago, but who's counting? A log in which Faye is not a lady and Gren is ambiguous as usual.
Log;
She's sitting on one of the low couches in the lobby, staring out at the street lights through the glass doors. Although not everyone in the building smokes, someone or something has thought to provide either side of her little perch with end tables and ash trays, and Faye has pulled one of them over to rest beside her on the cushion, while she smokes through her second cigarette in as many minutes.
It's not that she's early - because she isn't - and it's not that she's prompt - because she rarely ever is - and it's most certainly not because she's always a bundle of odd curiosity when Gren shows up - even though she is. Faye knows that he'll ask pointless questions and play the preacher routine and she'll get annoyed and he'll buy her a drink and that will be that will be that. Even after all this time, it's still weird, and her brain agrees with her as she sharpens her orange cherry on the lip of the ashtray.
There's a lot on her mind, but for once she isn't actively participating in it, crossing one leg over the other, tapping a boot - not white, these are black - against the leg of the sofa. A clock on the wall ticks but not as loudly as the one she's more familiar with, and Faye glances up out of habit, hoping that she'll get the chance to say to him, "You're late."
Rating; PG-13; because everyone knows how Faye's mouth works.
Characters; Gren (
notapreacher) & Faye (glock30)Summary; There's a difference between a few nights ago and a few months ago, but who's counting? A log in which Faye is not a lady and Gren is ambiguous as usual.
Log;
She's sitting on one of the low couches in the lobby, staring out at the street lights through the glass doors. Although not everyone in the building smokes, someone or something has thought to provide either side of her little perch with end tables and ash trays, and Faye has pulled one of them over to rest beside her on the cushion, while she smokes through her second cigarette in as many minutes.
It's not that she's early - because she isn't - and it's not that she's prompt - because she rarely ever is - and it's most certainly not because she's always a bundle of odd curiosity when Gren shows up - even though she is. Faye knows that he'll ask pointless questions and play the preacher routine and she'll get annoyed and he'll buy her a drink and that will be that will be that. Even after all this time, it's still weird, and her brain agrees with her as she sharpens her orange cherry on the lip of the ashtray.
There's a lot on her mind, but for once she isn't actively participating in it, crossing one leg over the other, tapping a boot - not white, these are black - against the leg of the sofa. A clock on the wall ticks but not as loudly as the one she's more familiar with, and Faye glances up out of habit, hoping that she'll get the chance to say to him, "You're late."