[closed] should i try to hide

[sizeofyourbaggage]

CHARACTERS: Rust Cohle, Ryohji Kaji, Damon Salvatore, Sam Wilson, Shepard
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Road
WHEN: early morning after the Night of Dread
SUMMARY: an investigation into what the hell and also the best first impressions ever
WARNINGS: none at the moment

[ catch all for day time investigation, threads in the comments! ]

Comments

[earthborn]

( Aww, you'll hurt my feelings. )

[The shotgun isn't subtle, but it makes a good distraction, and it has such a nice way of underlining her threats. She holds it level, unconcerned, waiting for the other shoe to fall. Waiting for backup.]

( Cohle. Why don't you tell me why you're out here? )

[The forest is silent around them. This is the quietest damn stand-off Shepard's ever had.]

[aluminumandash]

[ Blunt: ] ( I'm following you. ) [ There. Impression enough of control that he stops waiting, trails her last thought to its source, intent on gathering what he can from her mind. Sharp, rather than rough. ]

( Wasn't hard. ) [ So git he doesn't say, but there's that itch—mental as well as physical, the need to get back to it. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's been trying to pretend like he can't hear them all in his head, like he's just letting his guard do her job and ward off anyone who comes too close to them. But the stand off doesn't feel like it's going to end any time soon, so Sam untangles his fingers from Damon's clothes and pushes himself away, heading over to Shepard and Cohle. ]

Looks like we're not the only ones who came out here for some peace and quiet.

[ It's purposefully out loud, but then he switches over to using the mental link. ]

( Look, it ain't much of a cover but it's the only one we've got, all right? Last night they felt like someone was watching them; we don't know what kind of eyes are out here. )

[aluminumandash]

[ Rust's dragged about five ways at once—recoils from himself long enough to glimpse what those eyes might be seeing, a pow-wow out in the middle of nowhere. It is a shitty cover, belongs on a remaindered paperback, and the shotgun's bright hot metal in his consciousness. Maybe it's not worth carrying on with the charade. All these coincidences stacking up—maybe they were fucked from the start.

But he has to decide.

With a mental nod, he steps briskly toward Sam. ] Cut the shit. [ His voice is strained, fondness giving way to exasperation, his mind a high-wire act. His thoughts molding the lie, the lie molding his thoughts. ] You, you're so smooth— [ He shoves Sam's shoulder, affection gone rough. Restlessness in his movements, jittery energy. ] She knows. You gotta get back now, you should've heard her, she'll torch the tent. [ Pause for breath. Step back. ] And you ain't sleeping with me.

[ As though reading from a list: ] ( You left something. Take off, stop, say you left something. )