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sirenspull_logs2012-02-17 12:18 am
eideteker_graham) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-02-17 12:18 am
Entry tags:
Like I'm 16 again...
Who: Walter & Graham
When: After dinner 2/17
Where: Stoker manor
Summary: Graham brings his work home and noticing his chipper mood, Walter decides to tease him over his new flame.
Warnings: boys being boys
Just like him, after washing up from another typical meat and potatoes dinner in the old Victorian house-hold, Graham was restless. Nights like these back home he could sit outside and watch the tide go out as far as he could see. If he was lucky (which was an oxymoron on his account), he could grab a lobster right out of one of the traps left by his neighbors a half-mile down the coast. Drag the flailing creature back home and have dinner by midnight.
By now, he had stopped reminiscing on things he used to be able to do. Night-time was off-limits here, and he was hardly foolhardy enough to venture out even for a quick glimpse. So what to do when he didn't feel like drinking but could sleep either? Tire himself out with whatever puzzle from work he could bring home.
Tonight was a busted starter for a speed-boat owned by some yuppy couple. He sat at his desk, the curtains pulled so he could ignore the black sickness outside. It was just him, his screw-driver, this piece of junk, and the thoughts of an angel flying around in his head.
Since two night ago Graham had been walking on air. But what had his head in the clouds was something only hormonal teens knew of.
If one listened from the hallway, there was clear humming of a familiar tune.
"You are my hmmm--hmmm.. my only hmmm-hmmmn~"
When: After dinner 2/17
Where: Stoker manor
Summary: Graham brings his work home and noticing his chipper mood, Walter decides to tease him over his new flame.
Warnings: boys being boys
Just like him, after washing up from another typical meat and potatoes dinner in the old Victorian house-hold, Graham was restless. Nights like these back home he could sit outside and watch the tide go out as far as he could see. If he was lucky (which was an oxymoron on his account), he could grab a lobster right out of one of the traps left by his neighbors a half-mile down the coast. Drag the flailing creature back home and have dinner by midnight.
By now, he had stopped reminiscing on things he used to be able to do. Night-time was off-limits here, and he was hardly foolhardy enough to venture out even for a quick glimpse. So what to do when he didn't feel like drinking but could sleep either? Tire himself out with whatever puzzle from work he could bring home.
Tonight was a busted starter for a speed-boat owned by some yuppy couple. He sat at his desk, the curtains pulled so he could ignore the black sickness outside. It was just him, his screw-driver, this piece of junk, and the thoughts of an angel flying around in his head.
Since two night ago Graham had been walking on air. But what had his head in the clouds was something only hormonal teens knew of.
If one listened from the hallway, there was clear humming of a familiar tune.
"You are my hmmm--hmmm.. my only hmmm-hmmmn~"