Into the Forest [Extra]
Mar. 10th, 2009 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonFandom: Original
Summary: "Things would never change. Here he was, in a place where he had somehow found work without a national insurance number, and he was pretty sure the two guys sitting in the corner were planning to kidnap him."
Rating: T
Notes: And there was much swearing in this chapter.
I have no idea if this would turn 'canon' - the start, just like he says, in this day and age is pretty hard to do so... Not to mention the job's too out in the open, in the public eye. ;p How did he get a house? Uhhhh... His characterisation'll probably change too.
If this does become canon, I reeeeally need to change the title. ^ ^
Gaaaah, I really can't describe people because I think I'm overdoing it.
It was going to end with Nathan inviting 'Graham' to go out drinking but no-one wanted to do it. :P
Talk about 'limited' PoV or what.
Genre: Mystery/Adventure
Word count: 690
Words so far: 1,620
Status: Work in Progress.
Things would never change. Here he was, in a place where he had somehow found work without a national insurance number, and he was pretty sure the two guys sitting in the corner were planning to kidnap him. Or they were just trying to subtly get his attention.
He mentally shook his head and went to the kitchens. Maybe he was being a little bit paranoid, but he doubted it. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd escaped and he was well on the way of saving to get a one-way ticket out of the country, at the very least.
"Hey, Graham." He looked up at the chef - it had taken him a few days, but now he was reacting to it like it really was his name. The chef stood a head taller than him, aged from all the time he'd spent working in the kitchens and outside. He was gruff with people, but that was only in the kitchens, so that was understandable. "Plates are for table four." Somehow, the food was still able to make his mouth water, no matter how long he'd been serving it and eating it. It didn't matter what it was, it was just the smell and what it looked like. He grabbed the plates, elbowed open the kitchen door open and got back to earning his keep.
xOx
The afterhours clean-up was kind of therapeutic, in a way. It was quiet –a definite plus after there always being something in the background, from people talking, music, or the scrape of chairs- and the same motion over and over again was soothing, which helped to relax him further. It probably could have been better, but the others were in a rush so they were usually waiting impatiently for him to finish so that they could lock up, so he couldn't do it at the more leisurely pace that he wanted.
When he'd finished tidying everything else away, only two of the other staff were waiting outside, smoking.
Dean raised his eyebrows when he saw him step out of the kitchen. "You're out early, aren't ya?"
He shrugged. "You're always telling me to hurry up," he groused, pulling his jacket around him tighter. The sky was grey, looking like it was going to get even darker, and the wind was picking up. Just so long as it didn't start downpouring until after getting home, he'd be happy.
"Do you think you'll start making a habit of it?" Nathan asked him, one side of his lips curling before he took another drag of his cigarette.
"Well, I'll try – ah!" Shitshitshitowfuck! Stupid technology – he'd toned down his hearing, but if there was something that was too low or too high for his 'normal' hearing, his ears could decide to focus on it. At the noise level of a passing train. A bit distracting when taking orders from customers but he thought that he had it under control now!
"Shit, you okay?"
Ugh, well, this was 'problematic' – how was he going to explain why, for no apparent reason, he'd grabbed his ears, shut his eyes and half-curled up into a ball? He was supposed to be laying low.
"Damn. Graham, can you hear me?" Hands on his shoulders. "Nath – go phone an – "
"No!" he gasped, eyes snapping open. ...Fuuuuck. His sight had switched. And now he was too panicky to turn it off. It'd been a while since he'd seen anything with that sight, which really didn't mean much and it certainly wasn't helping right now. Dean was a kind of navy blue while Nathan was more of a light purple. "I'm fine!" he protested, straightening up. "Really," he said firmly, seeing their doubtful looks. They couldn't phone an ambulance. Phoning meant going to a hospital and being asked questions by people in white coats. No, he wasn't going anywhere near one of those places any time soon. "It happens sometimes." He wished it wouldn't, but it was better than 'all the time'.
Dean was still frowning at him, but he let him go with a sigh. "If you're sure..."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Summary: "Things would never change. Here he was, in a place where he had somehow found work without a national insurance number, and he was pretty sure the two guys sitting in the corner were planning to kidnap him."
Rating: T
Notes: And there was much swearing in this chapter.
I have no idea if this would turn 'canon' - the start, just like he says, in this day and age is pretty hard to do so... Not to mention the job's too out in the open, in the public eye. ;p How did he get a house? Uhhhh... His characterisation'll probably change too.
If this does become canon, I reeeeally need to change the title. ^ ^
Gaaaah, I really can't describe people because I think I'm overdoing it.
It was going to end with Nathan inviting 'Graham' to go out drinking but no-one wanted to do it. :P
Talk about 'limited' PoV or what.
Genre: Mystery/Adventure
Word count: 690
Words so far: 1,620
Status: Work in Progress.
Things would never change. Here he was, in a place where he had somehow found work without a national insurance number, and he was pretty sure the two guys sitting in the corner were planning to kidnap him. Or they were just trying to subtly get his attention.
He mentally shook his head and went to the kitchens. Maybe he was being a little bit paranoid, but he doubted it. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd escaped and he was well on the way of saving to get a one-way ticket out of the country, at the very least.
"Hey, Graham." He looked up at the chef - it had taken him a few days, but now he was reacting to it like it really was his name. The chef stood a head taller than him, aged from all the time he'd spent working in the kitchens and outside. He was gruff with people, but that was only in the kitchens, so that was understandable. "Plates are for table four." Somehow, the food was still able to make his mouth water, no matter how long he'd been serving it and eating it. It didn't matter what it was, it was just the smell and what it looked like. He grabbed the plates, elbowed open the kitchen door open and got back to earning his keep.
The afterhours clean-up was kind of therapeutic, in a way. It was quiet –a definite plus after there always being something in the background, from people talking, music, or the scrape of chairs- and the same motion over and over again was soothing, which helped to relax him further. It probably could have been better, but the others were in a rush so they were usually waiting impatiently for him to finish so that they could lock up, so he couldn't do it at the more leisurely pace that he wanted.
When he'd finished tidying everything else away, only two of the other staff were waiting outside, smoking.
Dean raised his eyebrows when he saw him step out of the kitchen. "You're out early, aren't ya?"
He shrugged. "You're always telling me to hurry up," he groused, pulling his jacket around him tighter. The sky was grey, looking like it was going to get even darker, and the wind was picking up. Just so long as it didn't start downpouring until after getting home, he'd be happy.
"Do you think you'll start making a habit of it?" Nathan asked him, one side of his lips curling before he took another drag of his cigarette.
"Well, I'll try – ah!" Shitshitshitowfuck! Stupid technology – he'd toned down his hearing, but if there was something that was too low or too high for his 'normal' hearing, his ears could decide to focus on it. At the noise level of a passing train. A bit distracting when taking orders from customers but he thought that he had it under control now!
"Shit, you okay?"
Ugh, well, this was 'problematic' – how was he going to explain why, for no apparent reason, he'd grabbed his ears, shut his eyes and half-curled up into a ball? He was supposed to be laying low.
"Damn. Graham, can you hear me?" Hands on his shoulders. "Nath – go phone an – "
"No!" he gasped, eyes snapping open. ...Fuuuuck. His sight had switched. And now he was too panicky to turn it off. It'd been a while since he'd seen anything with that sight, which really didn't mean much and it certainly wasn't helping right now. Dean was a kind of navy blue while Nathan was more of a light purple. "I'm fine!" he protested, straightening up. "Really," he said firmly, seeing their doubtful looks. They couldn't phone an ambulance. Phoning meant going to a hospital and being asked questions by people in white coats. No, he wasn't going anywhere near one of those places any time soon. "It happens sometimes." He wished it wouldn't, but it was better than 'all the time'.
Dean was still frowning at him, but he let him go with a sigh. "If you're sure..."
He nodded. "Yeah."