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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 16, 2012 10:22:10 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She remained silent the whole time he spoke, just relieved she'd finally managed to get him to talk to her, however grief-stricken his words may be. She couldn't stop herself from feeling bad for him either, whether he liked it or not- she knew what it was like to lose the people you were closest to. Hell, she'd lost them all at once for a while after faking her death- BAU and Interpol alike. Only JJ and Hotch had known she was alive, and it wasn't like she'd been able to talk to them- and online Scrabble with JJ wasn't exactly a good method of communication. It was his last words that finally invited a reaction from her, and her hangover was once again pushed to the back of her mind as she raised her voice in response.
I've been through way more than you think, Tesla, and I'm trying to help. There are ways to fix it, trust me, but you have to be willing to let go first. It's tough, I know, but the only other option is sitting around here with a bottle of wine and feeling sorry for yourself, and there's no way in hell I'm letting you do that.
She didn't know why it was such a big deal to her, to prove he wasn't some lost cause- it could be a number of reasons, really, from her old Interpol leave-no-man-behind instinct kicking in to genuinely caring about him. She didn't care which reason it was, not now, so long as he'd give her a chance to help him as a result. She hesitated only a moment before shifting closer in her chair and resting her hand lightly on his knee, keeping the touch entirely appropriate but still reassuring at the same time. She was pushing this, she knew, but at least it might save him from himself in the process.
...they wouldn't have wanted you to waste away like this. The least you can do is respect their memory by not doing that. And... if you ever need something, you have my number. All you have to do is call.
353 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"Written on iPhone."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 16, 2012 11:05:18 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
I'm not saying you haven't, but after a hundred and fifty seven years? It adds up.
He replied harshly - and he knew he was right. She may have been through hell - what, we wasn't sure - but he had seen World Wars, had watched his friends be taken from him, had seen countless genocides and massacres; and for what? To learn to hate, but keep on living because there was nothing else to do? And it hadn't even started with his extended life span. No, on the contrary - it had started at a mere five years old with the death of his brother. Before he started into this, though, he settled back in the chair, eyes falling once more.
I have seen genocide, war, massacres, my own inventions re-purposed to kill. That's all most of you know, killing - I've learned that much. It gets tiresome. Over land, over resources, over beliefs and race and gender - it doesn't stop, and it never will. And I will be forced to sit by and watch it and try to help only to watch it happen again and again for centuries. That isn't living, never was.
He murmured softly in reply, tone bitter - but not directed at her. Just at life in general. People said that vampires were undead. He had vehemently denied it at first, but now - he was pretty sure they were right. It wasn't that they lacked any signs of being alive. They bled, they healed, they needed nutrition and had all vital signs any human would have; but that didn't make them alive. Not in the purest sense of the word. Only in the clinical sense.
His gaze darted up as she rested a hand on his knee - he wasn't used to comfort. Not anymore. Nigel had been the only one, save Helen when he'd been devamped. His eyes fell to the hand, as if the gesture was completely foreign to him, but a few seconds later, he'd moved his hand to cover hers, curving his fingers around and giving it a small squeeze, more to reassure himself that he wasn't imagining this than anything, though the contact was surprisingly helpful, even for him. He normally pulled away, ever conscious of germs even if they couldn't do anything to him any more. He did glance up again with a small, sad smile, though, at her offer.
...I'm not so sure that's a door you'd be wise to open. Given you want to get me out of your life and all.
emily prentiss ...tagged 423 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 16, 2012 18:18:46 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
The harshness on his part had caused her to tense up, though the things he'd listed- things he'd lived through, and had to see with his own eyes- were enough to make her think the harshness was well deserved. It may not have been pleasant, but what she'd suffered at Doyle's hands was nothing compared to most of that. It was his next words that stunned her, though- him talking about humanity as if he wasn't part of it. He may be a vampire, but he had mentioned that he was only part- there was some human in him, and he had no ride to cut himself out of his own race because of a few bad eggs. She knew full well just how good humanity could be, too- she'd seen enough proof of that, even in the darkness of her crime-fighting life.
Before she could say anything in response, his eyes were falling to her hand on his knee, and she instinctively went to pull it back, though she'd only moved it a centimeter or two before his own fingers curved around it, squeezing it lightly. His next words stung a bit, to be honest, even if they were well deserved- she hadn't thought she'd come off that bad towards him, or at least, anything she may have said had been completely earned on his part. He was right on some level- he was hardly a pleasant person to be around- but at the same time, there was no way she was letting him waste away like this, not as long as there was something she could do about it, for his dead friends' sakes if anything.
...you're a complete asshole. I won't lie. But that doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you suffer.
There were few people she'd ever actually enjoyed seeing suffer- very, very few, and those few happened to be some of the worse criminals she'd dealt with in her time. She didn't want to dwell on that right now, though. She curved her fingers around his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling her hand away completely and sinking back into her chair, though she had a feeling she'd be leaving soon anyways. She did offer him a few more words that could be taken as somewhat biting, though they were honest and she meant each word.
There's still good in the world, believe it or not. You just have to be positive enough to see it- and with the way you sulk around feeling sorry for yourself, there's no way in hell you'll ever see it.
429 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 16, 2012 21:10:30 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
Well, that was different - someone not wanting to see him suffer. He was a monster - most people enjoyed being the ones to make him suffer. Especially when they thought of him as a monster - and she'd made it clear the day before that she did think just that. It made his smile grow a little, though. There really was something different about her - something special.
The smile slipped away as her hand did, having been rather enjoying that contact - enjoying it and one might go so far as to say relying on it, even if only for a short while. The reassuring squeeze she'd given him, though, had any good effects from it shattered instantly with her next words and a dark glower spread across his features in an instant.
I see it just fine. I'm just not delusional enough to think that the majority of what's out there classifies as good.
He murmured the words bitterly, abruptly turning back to the laptop and pulling it closer again. The words wouldn't hurt so much if they weren't based on truth, though - he did sulk around feeling sorry for himself more often than not. He tried to be an optimist, yes, but it never came naturally, save when it related to his research. No, it took sheer effort and will power and conscious thought to take a break from his automatic pessimism, but he wasn't telling her that.
It's not like I don't have a way to end it, but I haven't. That's gotta count for something.
The words were muttered softly under his breath, though they were even more bitterly angry than the last, though even now the anger was only partly directed at her. For the most part, it was instead aimed at himself and at the world in general - as it always was. It did drive him to take another few gulps from the bottle, bring the mark down to two-thirds empty, most of which had been downed in the past fifteen minutes or so.
emily prentiss ...tagged 339 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 16, 2012 23:00:23 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She hadn't expected her last few words to go over well, though she still couldn't help but feel the least bit hurt at the glower he sent her afterwards, even if she could tell his anger was partially directed to himself as well. She tried to convince herself that what she'd said was justified- that she was right- though it still didn't help her at least accept the fact that she'd very likely just alienated him more by telling the truth, and she shifted to sit at an angle towards the table once again, trying to take her focus off of him just as he'd done with her, if only to stop herself from just outright comforting him and therefore making things worse in the process. He'd just keep on being sorry for himself if she did that, and she knew it- and that was exactly why she couldn't afford to be that shoulder to cry on right now.
I never said you were delusional. You're just too pessimistic for your own good.
She didn't feel the least bit pained to say that bit, though, believing it entirely. She was no optimist, sure- in her line of work, optimism could be both harmful and helpful, so she'd learned to just avoid unnecessary optimism altogether- but she still wasn't a complete cynic, not when she saw so much good in the world every day. Sure, she worked with murderers and psychopaths and complete monsters, but that didn't change the fact that, every now and then, they saved the damsel in distress. They rescued the kidnapped child. They saved lives, and that made it all worth it, reuniting the victim with their loved ones and seeing the tears of joy and happy smiles all around. That was why she kept this job all these years- because she managed to see a few happy endings every now and then, and they were enough to help make up for all the tragic endings she encountered in between
She paused at his mention that he did in fact have a way to end it, having not expected that. He was a vampire, after all- immortal, or at least, that's what she'd thought. Apparently, though, there was some way to end it and he knew how. Why he hadn't, she wasn't sure, but that didn't mean she wasn't grateful that he hadn't or in any way wished he had- he was alive and fighting, however minimally, and that was a start. It only took a spark to kindle a fire, and that spark was still very much alive. And she'd light that fire that was his will to live back up again if it was the last thing she did- she didn't know why it meant so much to her, but she would.
Of course it counts. Now it's just a matter of moving on and doing something useful with your life, before you lose everything you do still have.
With that, she snatched the wine bottle away before he could protest and set it on the opposite side of her, out of his reach. She wasn't above downing the rest of it should it come down to it, either- alcohol may not be able to affect him, but there was no reason for him to try drowning his sorrows away in it anyways, and she knew her most recent words were quite accurate as well. He needed to pay attention to what he did still have- the Sanctuary, his employees, his friends- and get out of this pit of self-loathing and sulking if he wanted to avoid letting any of them down. She knew she had no business butting into his life like this, but she meant it- she didn't want to see him suffer, and she didn't want to see his life suffer because of him and his self-pity. However, she had a feeling he was right on at least one front.
She had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.
663 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 17, 2012 5:45:00 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He didn't argue her first point - couldn't, really. She was right, and he knew it. He was a complete pessimist, always sort of had been. He'd like to blame it on his father - on being shoved into the dirt like he was worthless for a large chunk of his life - but, really, there was no proof that he wouldn't be like this anyway had none of that happened.
But the topic seemed to have shifted from good people to good in general - and there really was more of the latter, even he'd admit to that. Most people, though, pretended to be good, well-meaning individuals in this life - they weren't, but they pretended to be - and he'd seen that one too many times to count, enough to think that was almost always the case. There were always those few that truly were - young children before they were corrupted by the world, and a scattered few in between. He understood misguided actions - actions meant to be for the better that ended up hurting others - for he ended up doing those sort of things plenty, but then there were many who didn't truly want the better, they just did it to further themselves. True, he was a fan of proving himself to the world - but it had always been under the belief that if maybe enough people thought he was worth it, he might finally believe it too.
There was a disgruntled, annoyed noise of discontent as she snatched the bottle away, and he shot a hand out to snatch it back, though it was just a touch too far. He glared at her, gaze nearly murderous even if he'd never actually hurt her for something such as that. He huffed softly, though, fully offended at her words.
I have done plenty of useful things with my life, and I continue to do so. It's not my fault I've hit a roadblock in my latest project. That's simply how science works. I'll have you know I've done some of my best work in these sorts of moods-
He sounded all high and mighty about it - but he wasn't. Everyone else praised his work as acts of genius, and he was well aware of it. He didn't deny he was intelligent - but the fact still remained in the back of his head that he'd been nothing compared to his brother, at least as far as those who had known Dani before his untimely death were concerned. Regardless, he darted out of his chair, using his enhanced speed to his full advantage and darting around her to the bottle and snatching it before pulling away and out of reach.
With wine.
emily prentiss ...tagged 453 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 17, 2012 6:47:41 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She didn't flinch under the glare, taking his next words in stride as well even if she was beginning to dislike him more and more by the second, somewhat nice to her or not. She was too slow to stop him from getting at the bottle of wine again, but that didn't stop her from outright standing up and moving between him and the desk, though she didn't bother trying to get the bottle back from him. Her hands came to rest on the back of the chair he'd been using, which was between them now that she'd stood up and he was dancing just out of reach, and her fingers clenched around it as she tried not to lose her temper entirely with her next words.
Wine or not, you're wasting your life away feeling sorry for yourself. Why should I give a damn if you don't?
She released his chair then, giving it a light push in his direction before turning back to the table. There was nothing there she'd need for later- all the files were on his laptop, and she hardly expected to be able to take the books with her. She'd just have to do the rest of her research from scratch, she guessed- hell, maybe she could even convince one of the technical analysts back at her office to help her out. In the meantime, though, she was tired of trying to convince him he was worth something when he was so dead set on proving her wrong every chance he got. Unless he had some sort of good reason for her to stay, she was leaving- and she couldn't help but feel relieved to finally do just that.
...we're pretty much done here anyways. Call me if you find anything else that might be important.
With that said, she wasted no time in turning away from him and briefly getting the books into a pile, pushing her chair in and sending a glance towards the door. She wouldn't leave immediately- even with him, she didn't plan on leaving abruptly and without a word- but she did intend to leave, whether he liked it or not. She did, however, take a few steps back from the table and towards the door, though they were slow at best as she waited for some kind of last words from him.
391 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"Written on iPhone."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 17, 2012 7:19:37 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He flinched at her words, primarily because of how true they were - not that it had really ever changed things back when he had given a damn. If anything, he'd just gotten hurt more. He'd expected someone to care, or someone to listen, or something, and they never had. Caring was far from overrated; it was merely not expected anymore. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. Still, though, his eyes fell even as a few more words slipped out.
I never expected you to. It's not like you'd be the first, and you certainly won't be the last.
He slowly reached over to set the wine bottle back on the desk, though - he'd grabbed it back out of principle more than a need for another sip. He caught the rolling chair with one hand preventing it from bumping into him, though he held on to it for a moment, eyes following her as she tidied up and got ready to leave. It only hit him, though, as she took a few slow steps towards the door.
She was leaving.
It shouldn't hurt this much, shouldn't make him feel frantic to get her to stay - he'd promised himself he wouldn't get attached. Clearly, though, it was far too late for that. He took a second to properly comprehend the fact that maybe she wasn't different - she was leaving just like everyone else, after all - then darted forward, hand closing around her wrist first, seeing as he hadn't aimed really. He slid it down to curve around her hand instead, though, realizing how bad grabbing her wrist could look.
Don't-
The first word that slipped out was just as frantic as he felt, and he cut himself off, quickly pulling his hand back and letting hers go, trying to hide it, to make this look like it was business and nothing more. It was too late for that, though, he was pretty sure - that one word would tell all, if the fact his eyes still pleaded with her to stay didn't, even though he was fighting to hide it all and return to that stoic, emotionless facade.
There's- there's still at least twenty seven other reports to go through. You should... probably stay. You, uh... you know what you're looking for better than I do...
He doubted it would matter of course; it rarely made difference what he said or how he said it. No one ever stayed. He could beg and plead and they looked at him with derision. He could make a valid argument, and they'd roll their eyes and say they were too busy. It was how it always worked - how it always would. It had never stopped him trying, though, and his eyes fell off to the side and down to the side, two soft, barely audible words slipping out unbidden.
...Please stay.
emily prentiss ...tagged 475 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 17, 2012 18:02:12 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She spotted the panic in his eyes moments before he acted on it, though that didn't take away from her shock any as his fingers closed around her wrist. Instinctively, she tried to tug her arm free, though he was quickly sliding his hand down her wrist to wrap around her own and she gave up trying to pull away, instead focusing on him as the single, frantic word slipped past his lips. She didn't know where it came from- why he gave a damn whether she left or not- and that made her wary, though her curiosity as to why he cared trumped any suspicion she may have.
He tore his hand free again just moments later, sure, but he wasn't doing a good job at remaining completely emotionless- his eyes were practically pleading with her to stay, and there was something so innocent about it that her suspicions died out soon enough. He genuinely wanted her to stay, for some reason or other. Whatever feelings- she wasn't sure if happiness was the right word, but it couldn't be too far off- that gave her quickly vanished as he expanded on his single word, though- he was brushing it off as being about the reports. Part of her couldn't help but believe him, too- he was right. She knew what she was looking for better than he did. She didn't want to stay for the files, though- she wanted to go home and nurse her hangover in peace, away from him.
We haven't found anything new in god knows how long, Tesla. A few unread reports won't change that. Hell, finish them by yourself if it means too much to you- I just don't think you need me here to get them done.
By the time she'd finished speaking, the frantic pleading in his eyes seemed to have died down a bit though he still didn't seem entirely happy to let her go, either. His next two words were response enough, and she paused, considering them. They were practically begging, which was saying something, given just how high and mighty he considered himself- or at least, how high and mighty he'd acted towards her. He wasn't the kind of man to plead or beg, and she knew it, and that was one of the main reasons she hesitated in her decision to leave.
...why?
The single word slipped out, and it pretty much summarized all of her thoughts at once- why? Why did it matter to him whether she stayed or not? Why had he been so frantic at the idea of her leaving? She thought logically- there had to be some sort of explanation; him "rebounding" from his friends onto her, him simply not wanting to be left alone, even him just wanting the female company. All would've made sense- but only he could tell her which one it actually was, and for some reason, she very much cared to find out.
489 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 17, 2012 19:16:29 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He hesitated at her single worded question - it was a good question, really. Why did he want her to stay? There were a million reasons. He didn't want to be alone - that wouldn't go over well, though, he was pretty sure. There was also the factor of her helping with the Jack case - but they both knew that wasn't all there was to it, so there was no point pulling that card.
I- I don't... know.
The words were hesitant, though, because he did - he just wasn't entirely sure how to express it in words, not in a way that wouldn't sound greedy. He wasn't trying to be greedy, or self-centered - really, he wasn't. Perhaps he was being such, but that didn't mean he wanted to be. The thing was - he knew the answer, even if it would be a tad long winded, and it would delve a little further into his personal psyche a little more than he cared for. He tended to avoid such things - preferred to barely graze the surface, so that he could merely pretend to be what everyone expected him to be.
Just... everyone... everyone always leaves.
It sounded stupid, saying it out loud - but it was accurate. The only one who hadn't ever left was Nigel. Sure, James and Helen and John were there sometimes, but usually only when they needed something. Mari had stayed the best she could - but she didn't count. She was more a daughter than a younger sister. No one else had stayed, though - they'd left, or never been there in the first place. He sighed softly, turning away - a sign he'd let her go, if that was what she wanted, though he said nothing for a moment. When he did speak, it was soft and quiet - not exactly sure whether he should admit to this or not, or how she'd even take it.
I guess... I was just hoping... hoping you'd prove me wrong. And I don't say that often.
The last phrase came out quickly, defensive but nothing more, as he glanced over his shoulder at her, though there was no glare - just a slight pleading still remaining was there. He still had an image to uphold, after all - a reputation. He didn't like being wrong usually - but he'd make an exception this time. In fact, this time, he'd be overjoyed to be wrong.
emily prentiss ...tagged 405 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 17, 2012 19:38:17 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He may have said that he didn't know, but she had a feeling that wasn't all there was to it. His words were hesitant at best, after all- no, as far as she could tell, he knew full well why he wanted her to stay, he just didn't want to admit it. She was proven correct just moments later when he expanded, giving her a reason she had hoped she wouldn't hear but a reason nonetheless. Admittedly, she'd hoped it had something to do with him actually wanting it to be her- she knew she shouldn't care, but she did, and the fact that he only wanted her to stick around because no one else had before stung more than she'd thought it would.
However, she wasn't heartless, and she certainly didn't want to pass up the chance to prove him wrong. After a long hesitation, she took a few more steps towards the table though she didn't reclaim her seat, instead simply resting her palms on the flat surface and motioning to the computer with her head. As far as she was concerned, they were done with the books- there would be nothing else of use in them. It was the computer files that mattered, and so they'd go through them- or at least, most of them. She did send a glance over to him to confirm that she was staying, though, a few words of her own slipping out immediately afterwards.
...I'll stay a little longer. You're right- I know what we're looking for better than you do. Just- just help me go through these files, will you?
She finally dropped back into her chair, moving it closer to his only so she could see the computer screen better without leaning or craning her neck. She wasn't going to lie- she felt some sort of attachment to him, even if she wasn't sure what to classify it as. She doubted feeding that attachment would do anyone any good, though, especially not when he obviously only wanted her around so he wouldn't be alone and she normally couldn't stand being in the same room with him anyways. She'd manage another hour or two of going through files with him, though, for his sake if nothing else. He may not have done anything particularly stupid in the absence of those friends of his yet, sure, but she definitely didn't want to see that change anytime soon, either.
She did want to keep them focused on the business aspect of this, though, if only because it was getting off topic that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. She wasn't about to close herself off from him completely, though, and she hoped he wouldn't do the same, though right now she was more focused on him accepting her help and letting them get back to the files than anything. She reached over to the laptop and opened the next file as she waited for him, skimming over it with her eyes for anything that might prove useful, though this one was almost identical to most of its predecessors. This was bound to be a long afternoon- but thank god her hangover was finally beginning to pass, at least.
Twenty seven of them, right? How long do you think that'll take?
547 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 17, 2012 21:01:13 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He blinked a few times, staring startled as she took a few steps closer again, eyes following her, only partly hearing what she said. He watched in stunned silence as she settled back in her chair, though he didn't sit back in his own yet. He just nodded silently, glancing over at the computer screen and flicking a finger to bring up the next file.
He settled a hand on her shoulder then, touch light, gentle - caring. He gave it a soft squeeze in a silent thanks for staying, though he let it linger after as well. He wasn't quite sure what it was - normally, he avoided physical contact at all costs. This was different though. This felt right.
...Not sure. Some are longer. Some aren't. If it gets too late, you're welcome to stay for dinner. In fact, I'd rather enjoy it if you did. I could give you that tour after, if you'd like. However...
He cleared his throat briefly, hand sliding off her shoulder and down her back the short distance to the chair back, where it dropped away completely. His hands slipped into his pockets then as he rocked on his feet a moment, restless movement automatic more than anything. He glanced away then, though this time not out of embarrassment or shame - it just wasn't something he usually talked about.
...I do have to... go grab something from my room briefly. Ah- medicine, I suppose you could call it. Just - rather not get, uh... hungry. Particularly with you here.
He murmured, glancing back over briefly at the end with a soft, apologetic smile for having begged her to stay only to leave her on her own for a few minutes. It was for her own safety though - even if it would take hours before it became too much of a threat. He slipped out of the room silently then, down the hall to his bedroom to grab one of his vials. He downed it there before heading back, where he promptly settled back in his chair with a small genuine smile in her direction - one of the very few that was such these days.
Alright. Back for good. Unless you want anything? Food? Drink? Something for your hangover?
emily prentiss ...tagged 373 ...words --- ...playlist ...and this is what happens when I write posts while on tylenol 3 while watching tv and taking a break in the middle to go inject my horse with hormones to make him more feminine. it's absolutely horrendous, sorry >.< ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 18, 2012 18:04:04 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She glanced over at him as he rested his hand on her shoulder, obviously not sure how to react but not entirely uncomfortable either. What surprised her was the general kindness of the gesture- his touch was gentle and friendly, which was saying something given just how he'd treated her when they'd first met, and at occasional intervals after that. Regardless, that hardly meant she didn't appreciate the gesture- he may be an asshole, but she did have some level of respect and even caring for him, and she definitely didn't want to alienate him without good reason. This was a sign of camaraderie, and a welcome one at that.
She continued to watch him as he spoke, hesitating at the dinner invitation but more concerned with why he'd trailed off like that than anything. She turned in her chair to watch him, his hand having slid off her shoulder and therefore allowing her to move freely again, not that he'd been exactly pinning her there to start with. She paused with her eyes still on him at the mention of medicine, confused, though the word 'hungry' moments later was enough to tell her just what he meant, and she let him go with only a few murmured words about starting at the files, which she did the moment he'd left.
In the time it took him to head back to his room and take whatever medication he may have, she made it through the file he'd brought up, though there wasn't anything of use in this one. It was one less for them to go through, though, even if it was one of the shorter ones. She glanced towards the door the moment she heard footsteps, though, and she shifted her chair out of the way of the laptop to give him room, though she was shaking her head moments later in response to his offer.
I'm fine. The hangover's not even that bad. Let's just- just finish going through the files.
Like it or not, there was still a hint of a headache, not to mention that morning-after feeling that came with drinking as much as she had the night before. She was eager to get home, throw something in the microwave, make herself a coffee and just collapse- not to mention, it wasn't like she'd be completely alone. She'd managed to bring Sergio with her when she'd moved, and he was currently back at her apartment with a bowl of food and a few toys she'd bought him in hopes they'd help relax him as far as the change of scenery went- London was nothing like Quantico, after all, even if he did spend most of his time holed up in her apartment.
She turned back to the computer, letting him control it while she simply read over everything and tried to find something that may help. This was a difficult position to work from, though, so she ended up simply standing up and moving to lean against his chair from behind, allowing herself to read over his shoulder. She'd been sitting down for far too long all day anyways- the chance to stretch her legs, even by just standing, was a welcome one. It was just a matter of trying not to concentrate on just how close to each other they were- and, surprisingly enough, how little she minded.
558 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 18, 2012 22:38:14 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He nodded, accepting that she was being honest, if only because she didn't appear that bad off anymore. Then again, it was dark in here - but oh well. He'd face that when he had to, and not a second before. Instead, he turned his attention back to the computer screen, skimming through the next report on the list. At least, until she stood up - and even then, his reaction was delayed.
He had merely assumed she was stretching her legs or going to the bathroom - but then she was leaning on the back of his chair and he paused in surprise before tipping his head back to look up at her with a faintly confused frown. He blinked a few times, staring up at her - but then a small, but brilliant, smile slipped across his face and he tipped his head back straight, continuing to slowly skim through the reports, smile never fading.
They did, however, eventually reach the end of the last one, though his scrolling had been getting progressively slower as they got closer to the end, trying to draw this out. The end came too soon regardless, though, and he held in a sigh, just barely, as he tipped his head back again, not wanting to turn his chair and disturb her.
...Dinner?
The single word was quietly whispered, but ever so hopeful, eyes big and pleading. He knew she wanted to go home - but he didn't want her to go. He'd meant it before - he wanted her to be the one to prove him wrong. He even raised one hand to the back of the chair, resting it lightly over one of hers, little smile threatening to shine through as a grin instead. He expanded a little, though not much - the single worded question was pretty self-explanatory on his own, what with the look on his face added in, and even more so with the next four words.
Anything you want. Promise.
emily prentiss ...tagged 328 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 18, 2012 22:54:52 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She had noticed the momentary confusion on his part as she got up, though he didn't say anything and that was enough to keep her where she was, though she was too focused on simply reading the reports to notice the smile that never completely left his face as they worked. They were at it for a good hour or two more before they finally reached the last report, too, and by then she was leaning against his chair more than anything, having long since abandoned the stiffness she'd started there with. She'd been right- they hadn't found much else of use in those files- but she'd be lying if she said being in his company was an entirely unpleasant experience.
As they finished, she noticed him tip his head backwards to look up at her and she'd half expected some kind of thanks or apology from him, so the single word serving as an invitation caught her completely off guard. She would've refused without a thought had he not used that tone- that soft, hopeful voice and the pleading look he gave her made it impossible to say no. Not to mention, he was smiling, and he had a nice smile- this was one of the few genuine ones she'd seen ever since they'd met, and she did think he should smile more often. That combination- as well as the way he draped one of his hands over hers along the back of the chair- were what broke her in the end, and she shifted to stand back up completely, though leaving her hand under his in the meantime.
If- if you're sure.
She wasn't quite certain what she wanted, maybe, but they could always worry about that later- she was still far too stunned by the fact that Nikola was not only capable of being nice but that he could be outright sweet as well, and that image of him with the smile on his face was seared into her mind. It was stupid of her, letting herself so much as grow attached to the asshole who'd turned her life upside down, but she couldn't help it- besides, it was just one meal. That couldn't be so wrong, could it?
She finally pulled her hand away from his, stepping back and away from his chair to allow him room to get up and out of it, seeing as they'd need to go to the kitchen of this place if he intended to cook for her. A quick glance at her watch told her that it was already late evening- six or seven, so they'd obviously worked a while longer than she'd thought- but still a decent enough time to have dinner, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't hungry. She moved back to let him lead the way, though, still not entirely confident in her knowledge of the layout of the place. For now, she'd simply try to think of a suggestion of something he could cook, though her mind was elsewhere at the moment- namely, on why he could possibly be so excited at the idea of her having dinner with him.
523 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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