The Same Perspective
Feb. 17th, 2011 09:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Fandom: The Mentalist
Summary: "Jane, would you quit that already? You are not a zombie."
Rating: T
Notes: Swearing
I will eventually be able to write a zombie apocalypse. Just not right now. XDD;
I find it hard to name these. =/
Genre: General
Word count: 218
Status: Complete
"Where the hell have you been for the last six hours?" The screech of tires and beeping horns filtered through to Patrick's ears.
"Buried under dirt and gr-"
A harsh sigh cut him short. "Jane, would you quit that already? You are not a zombie."
"But-"
"We're in the middle of trying to chase down a murderer - you can pretend of be dead later. In fact, I'll help." Lisbon hung up.
Patrick lowered his cell, ending the call. Well, he'd tried to tell her. He looked down, seeing where his chest had two new rugged ventilation holes. He didn't know if they were actually rugged -he hadn't lifted his shirt away yet to take a proper look- but he wasn't bleeding (although his vest was stained black, the liquid brittle), and if he'd been out of reach for six hours...
His motor skills as well as his mental functioning didn't seem to be affected though. His senses seemed to be the same, though his sense of touch didn't seem to be so sensitive at the moment. Hmm.
Pocketing his cell, Patrick started to make his way home for a change of clothes. He wondered how long it would take for the others to realise that something was amiss.
He just hoped tea tasted the same after this.
Summary: "Jane, would you quit that already? You are not a zombie."
Rating: T
Notes: Swearing
I will eventually be able to write a zombie apocalypse. Just not right now. XDD;
I find it hard to name these. =/
Genre: General
Word count: 218
Status: Complete
"Where the hell have you been for the last six hours?" The screech of tires and beeping horns filtered through to Patrick's ears.
"Buried under dirt and gr-"
A harsh sigh cut him short. "Jane, would you quit that already? You are not a zombie."
"But-"
"We're in the middle of trying to chase down a murderer - you can pretend of be dead later. In fact, I'll help." Lisbon hung up.
Patrick lowered his cell, ending the call. Well, he'd tried to tell her. He looked down, seeing where his chest had two new rugged ventilation holes. He didn't know if they were actually rugged -he hadn't lifted his shirt away yet to take a proper look- but he wasn't bleeding (although his vest was stained black, the liquid brittle), and if he'd been out of reach for six hours...
His motor skills as well as his mental functioning didn't seem to be affected though. His senses seemed to be the same, though his sense of touch didn't seem to be so sensitive at the moment. Hmm.
Pocketing his cell, Patrick started to make his way home for a change of clothes. He wondered how long it would take for the others to realise that something was amiss.
He just hoped tea tasted the same after this.