rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (generals gathered in their masses)
ᴄʟᴀʀɪssᴇ ʟᴀ ʀᴜᴇ ◘ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴇs ([personal profile] rues) wrote in [community profile] metrops2014-08-27 09:00 pm
quest: ᴄᴀᴜsᴛɪᴄᴀᴍᴍᴏ (pic#8163659)

ROAD TRIP →

[personal profile] quest 2014-09-07 07:24 am (UTC)(link)



[ Percy's learned his lesson about singing along to the radio, to whatever mixed CD Clarisse has put in, to whatever song that pops into his head when both fail to produce anything worth listening to. He's incapable of holding a tune, even when given music, so Clarisse smacked it into him fairly early on that no, he can not sing along to music while they drive.

(He has learned that there are certain exceptions to this. Such as: 3am when they've been driving over twenty-four hours, nights where they sleep in the bed of the truck and have four shots of shitty whiskey, and whenever Clarisse is in a deep enough sleep to not wake up. All of these are often enough that Percy gets his fill, but he'd still like to be able to jam out when certain songs come over the speakers. Alas.)

They've only been on the road for a few hours and Clarisse has already propped her feet up on the dashboard, a map spread out across her lap, the GPS of her phone open in her hand. Percy does his best not to look over to see what she's doing at every available opportunity, but it's sort of impossible with her tan legs right in his peripheral. It feels like they've been running into new shit to hunt more often than usual, filling up on ammo at every opportunity, crashing more often in the back of the truck than they are in cheap motels. He doesn't mind though; never has. ]
Edited 2014-09-07 07:24 (UTC)
quest: (sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ)

FIX UP →

[personal profile] quest 2014-09-07 07:25 am (UTC)(link)



[ It hadn't been their easiest job, that was for sure. Not the hardest by a long shot, didn't require more than just the two of them, but they'd both wound up a little worse for wear. Meant they'd be out of commission for at least a week or two, but Percy didn't mind the break. They'd been hitting the ground hard all summer, and some recoup time was needed, both to heal up their bodies, and to give their heads a break. He knew that if he spent too much time hunting, he lost track of everything else outside of it.

He finishes up a call with his mom, phone pressed between shoulder and ear, both hands occupied with pressing a bandage above his hip (unsuccessfully). Wendigos were nasty fuckers, and they hadn't run into them before -- new experience, trial and error. They'd killed the small pack of them in the end, but the fight wasn't kind to the hunters either.

Only when he finally hangs up with Sally does he wander from the bathroom back out to the bedroom of the room they're staying in, nicer than what they usually get, as though a reward for the fact they've been hauling ass for the last two months. ]


Little help?

[ Percy holds up a large square of gauze in one hand, medical tape in the other. He's already stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans, pulled off his shirt, wound clean. Just a matter of placing the bandage, it's just- awkwardly placed on his side and not at all an excuse to get Clarisse to get up in his space. ]
quest: (ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ)

PIT STOP →

[personal profile] quest 2014-09-07 07:25 am (UTC)(link)



[ He's dead on his feet when they finally pull into the motel parking lot, checking in with a barely coherent agreement for the price of the room, pays cash in exchange for the key. When he drags himself back out to the truck, he shoulders both their bags and takes them to the room. Only when he's dumped them down right inside the door does he make his way back out to the car. Admittedly, he probably should have had Clarisse driving quite some time ago, but sleep was something that neither of them had been getting enough of, so he'd made the executive decision in her lack of consciousness; they were stopping for the night.

Opening the passenger side of the truck, he lifts himself up to kneel inside the door, half tempted to carry her inside if he didn't think she would try to take his head off in alarm. Instead, he reaches up, pushing her bangs out bangs out of her face; better than jostling her awake and startling her; that was just as likely to get him killed. ]


C'mon. We're stopped for the night. Unless you need me to carry you. [ Even in his exhaustion, he's still fully capable of being a shithead. (Also still entirely able to take note of how damn pretty she is, half asleep or not; she could probably have drool forming and he'd still think that kissing her was a good idea. Sometimes it really verged on gross how much he loved her.) ]