5/26/74

[sorrydontsuitme]

He didn't like that.

He didn't like that at all. That was a long... how the hell long was it the power was out anyhow? Nine hours? Ten? He sure lost track of time there in the darkness, but now that he's relieved himself and cleaned up a little, put on fresh clothes, it's time for the next order of business. If he was stuck in the elevator, it could be that somethin' bad happened to Freckles too.

Time to check up on Sassafras.

It don't take long at all to haul his ass down the stairs to 317; it's as likely a place to start lookin' as any. The elevator ain't even a damn option today, but in no time he's poundin' at her door. He don't care what time it is (maybe 7:30 in the a.m.) and he don't care if she's asleep and he don't care if he wakes up anyone else. Wake up the whole damn hotel for all he cares.

"You in there, Freckles?"

Hell yes he could have called first, but this ain't no date for a nice little cup of tea. He's got to see her with his own eyes and hold her with his own hands, and that's the only damn way he'll be satisfied.

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[caughtinanet.livejournal.com]

She breathes a little easier with him up and smiling like that, like everything's back to normal. And with food on the way up.

"Well, Vincent's going to have a nice little sit-down with me. I don't know how much he's going to tell other people."

She'll share with Sawyer, at least to a certain extent, but after seeing how Vincent reacted she feels for the guy. She'll keep quiet about anything he'd like her to keep quiet about.

He may not seem to remember anything that happened when he wasn't the Vincent she's always known, but even then he still played the part of hotel defender.

From what she could tell.

[sorrydontsuitme.livejournal.com]

Funny how information is currency in places where money don't exist or don't matter. He doesn't have to tell Freckles he's curious as hell about what the answers are, but then again he ain't the one who was out there and saw it, so he has no business makin' demands on the guy to know what the hell's going on.

Waiting on permission ain't his style, though, and he'll find out what he wants to know one way or another, and won't no one else know it either. Only him, and that's the way it's always been and it's the way he likes it. For Freckles, he shrugs and gives a little nod.

"He tells the rest of us anything, I'll give you the heads-up on it. Don't expect him to make no big public announcements, though." They ain't even talked, to his recollection. Just nodded in passing a couple times, like they know each other and that's enough. Until now, even with the rumors and all, that's been enough. He can wait, but he ain't patient.

Last night in the elevator proved that.

Want to hear somethin' happened in that elevator last night, Freckles? He toys with the idea of sayin' it aloud but can't quite let the words out, like they're stuck so deep inside after a lifetime hidin' what he saw in the dark under that bed that if he lets 'em out now, a flood's gonna follow. Sure, she knows the bare bones of it -- she read that letter he's still got tucked away in his back pocket -- but she don't know the whole story and now ain't the time for confession.

"Sure hope you're hungry. Got you a Coca-Cola and some fries." See what she makes of that.

[caughtinanet.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I don't expect him to."

Somehow she can't imagine Vincent making a big public announcement about it, either. Quietly fielding questions like it's a press conference.

The idea kind of makes her heart ache. He'd seemed so uncertain. He seemed like he wasn't sure that he could trust himself.

Vincent's always struck her as reserved -- even just plain shy -- but uncertain? Never. It's always seemed to her that he knows his abilities well, and she's never seen him act in a way she's considered afraid before.

Looking over at Sawyer, she grins. "You ordered us Coke and french fries for breakfast?"

She'll take it -- she's hungry -- but it does make her laugh.

[sorrydontsuitme.livejournal.com]

"Nah." Now he grins again, fit to beat the damn band. "Just pullin' your leg, Freckles. Ordered you the southern pervert special: grits, ham with red-eye gravy, biscuits." Shaking his head, he laughs again. "Nah, don't worry. I'm takin' good care of both our breakfast needs. Think you'll like it."

And in the meantime, till it gets here -- and who knows if it'll take extra long or if the robots are playin' catch-up 'cause of the blackout or whatever, although everything else seems like it's a go -- he'll take care of that shot-up leg of hers, and rub her back or neck if she wants, and let her tell him heroic tales about what all else happened or get mad at him for not ordering up Coke and fries, or... hell, just about anything. He ain't the type of man to go around missin' no one, but he didn't like that elevator business at all, not one little bit and he's glad as hell not to be alone no more.

Maybe sometime he'll even tell her about seein' Daddy.

Maybe.