[ He opened his mouth, had gotten as far as 'actually' before he realised he was going to stop, and managed to bite down on saying anything else.
Actually, he was going to say, Even if you did managed to get into the bath ass up it'd be difficult to actually force yourself to drown in an inch of water. And then he'd talk about the human instinct to live and...he'd be rambling again in no time at all. So he swallowed all of the titchy tiny can of coke dutifully, set the empty can aside, and started again. ]
I can see the headlines now. Detective found drowned at ex-wife's wedding to former cop. [ And despite being more grim, it was actually a very lighthearted comment for Fraser. ] Of course they'd have to leave out the fact that you had once been undercover as Ray Vecchio, if only for the sake of clarity.
[ Ray was flagging on the alcohol front, he noticed, nowhere near the challenge Fraser had set, but then he hadn't counted on their talking for most of it. They'd have to get up and change soon. In fact--he checked his watch. ] Fifteen minutes.
And really-- [ Fraser added, shifting his weight off the end of the bed. ] --I should have thought you'd had enough of almost drowning, Ray.
[ Maybe what he needed to do was start getting changed now before the time got away from him. He wasn't like Ray. For one thing, special occasions like this called for him to be in his full dress uniform, and even at best speed it would take him most of ten minutes to get changed into it. He climbed off the bed, showing his back to Ray while he began to strip, and truly--there were just some things you could do when another man had seen you rolling naked in the snow to get clean, and even after months 'apart' this ought to be one of them. What was he going to do? Ask the man who had shared a six by twelve tent with him for three months to hide in the bathroom?
Still, this was no strip show. Fraser was business-like, efficient. Off came the leather jacket and the longsleeved shirt underneath it. The jeans were trickier; he wore them far too tight, and a minimal amount of squirming was required to get loose. And then in just his underwear, he was digging into the protective plastic sleeve that preserved his best uniform, each button gleaming, the leatherwork buffed and oiled and polished until it shone. ]
no subject
[ He opened his mouth, had gotten as far as 'actually' before he realised he was going to stop, and managed to bite down on saying anything else.
Actually, he was going to say, Even if you did managed to get into the bath ass up it'd be difficult to actually force yourself to drown in an inch of water. And then he'd talk about the human instinct to live and...he'd be rambling again in no time at all. So he swallowed all of the titchy tiny can of coke dutifully, set the empty can aside, and started again. ]
I can see the headlines now. Detective found drowned at ex-wife's wedding to former cop. [ And despite being more grim, it was actually a very lighthearted comment for Fraser. ] Of course they'd have to leave out the fact that you had once been undercover as Ray Vecchio, if only for the sake of clarity.
[ Ray was flagging on the alcohol front, he noticed, nowhere near the challenge Fraser had set, but then he hadn't counted on their talking for most of it. They'd have to get up and change soon. In fact--he checked his watch. ] Fifteen minutes.
And really-- [ Fraser added, shifting his weight off the end of the bed. ] --I should have thought you'd had enough of almost drowning, Ray.
[ Maybe what he needed to do was start getting changed now before the time got away from him. He wasn't like Ray. For one thing, special occasions like this called for him to be in his full dress uniform, and even at best speed it would take him most of ten minutes to get changed into it. He climbed off the bed, showing his back to Ray while he began to strip, and truly--there were just some things you could do when another man had seen you rolling naked in the snow to get clean, and even after months 'apart' this ought to be one of them. What was he going to do? Ask the man who had shared a six by twelve tent with him for three months to hide in the bathroom?
Still, this was no strip show. Fraser was business-like, efficient. Off came the leather jacket and the longsleeved shirt underneath it. The jeans were trickier; he wore them far too tight, and a minimal amount of squirming was required to get loose. And then in just his underwear, he was digging into the protective plastic sleeve that preserved his best uniform, each button gleaming, the leatherwork buffed and oiled and polished until it shone. ]