[They lead out in relative silence, Ray avoiding saying too much for fear of anyone overhearing. The gossip around the station spread far too quickly and it only took one officer to catch the wrong phrase before everything spiralled out of control. It'd happened before and it'd happen again. Best they get into his beloved car and away from prying ears before anything is even mentioned.
Once sat in the Pontiac he gets the engine ticking over and slams the heater on full, turning to eye up the partner beside him. Ray had spotted the shivering despite the cover up. How could he not? Even if he hadn't seen it, he was well aware of the temperature and, despite tales of Fraser running around naked and jumping in water, once the alcohol leaves the system the cold would come. He should have brought a spare set of clothing, but he had been too tired to even consider it when he'd left his apartment. No matter, he'd have something for Fraser once they got back.
It's hard to feel too angry when the guy opposite him looks cold, sullen and completely worn down. Or roughed up. Or crazy. Or whatever that mad hair, mad eye look is. It's especially hard to feel angry when there's actual gratitude for him getting out of his nice warm bed and dragging himself out here for the sake of a drunken Mountie. Maybe Fraser was sober enough for politeness after all.
Except... except he's not sober enough to remember names?]
Uh.
[His brows furrow heavily, unsure whether to be concerned or offended by the apparent lack of memory. God, he hopes it's the alcohol causing this and not something else.]
It's Ray. We work together. ... Did you uh, do you remember hittin' your head or anythin'?
[Carefully attentive, showing that level of empathy that he only ever reserves for Fraser. You can tell me, he's quietly suggesting through that understanding etched across his exhausted expression. Perhaps Fraser's just struggling with names right now. He must recognise Ray, right? After all their time together, there's no way he'd forget that.]
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Once sat in the Pontiac he gets the engine ticking over and slams the heater on full, turning to eye up the partner beside him. Ray had spotted the shivering despite the cover up. How could he not? Even if he hadn't seen it, he was well aware of the temperature and, despite tales of Fraser running around naked and jumping in water, once the alcohol leaves the system the cold would come. He should have brought a spare set of clothing, but he had been too tired to even consider it when he'd left his apartment. No matter, he'd have something for Fraser once they got back.
It's hard to feel too angry when the guy opposite him looks cold, sullen and completely worn down. Or roughed up. Or crazy. Or whatever that mad hair, mad eye look is. It's especially hard to feel angry when there's actual gratitude for him getting out of his nice warm bed and dragging himself out here for the sake of a drunken Mountie. Maybe Fraser was sober enough for politeness after all.
Except... except he's not sober enough to remember names?]
Uh.
[His brows furrow heavily, unsure whether to be concerned or offended by the apparent lack of memory. God, he hopes it's the alcohol causing this and not something else.]
It's Ray. We work together. ... Did you uh, do you remember hittin' your head or anythin'?
[Carefully attentive, showing that level of empathy that he only ever reserves for Fraser. You can tell me, he's quietly suggesting through that understanding etched across his exhausted expression. Perhaps Fraser's just struggling with names right now. He must recognise Ray, right? After all their time together, there's no way he'd forget that.]