Duke Crocker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hearrrtofgold) wrote2014-08-20 04:21 pm
hearrrtofgold) wrote2014-08-20 04:21 pm
15 ⚓ Video/Spam ⚓ Gather yourselves, with all your heart and strength
[Video]
Duke Crocker of the Cape Rouge calling Haven P.D. Anyone out there? [He’s got only small hope that anyone will answer, almost certain that Audrey and Nathan won’t. But still, he’d come through the last time the network glitched (before he showed up on the Barge), as had she. Maybe it could happen again with them, or anyone he was familiar with from back home.
He pauses for a long time, mulling over what he’s about to share, and suddenly blurts it out.] Oprah Winfrey.
[Gym Spam, evening]
[After the last of the messages had trickled in, Duke had shaken himself off and tried to calm himself walking Brownie, fixing himself a very heavy chicken salad for supper, and tried to do some yoga poses. None of the activities had provided him any peace, and he eventually decided to just embrace the discomfort and beat the crap out of something.
So here he is, standing in the gym with knuckles bound in tape and taking out his frustrations on a punching bag. He’s more than competent in street-fighting, not exceptional but still practiced and forceful. He doesn’t even remember his first fistfight, although he’s sure he lost it, and that drives him on.]
Duke Crocker of the Cape Rouge calling Haven P.D. Anyone out there? [He’s got only small hope that anyone will answer, almost certain that Audrey and Nathan won’t. But still, he’d come through the last time the network glitched (before he showed up on the Barge), as had she. Maybe it could happen again with them, or anyone he was familiar with from back home.
He pauses for a long time, mulling over what he’s about to share, and suddenly blurts it out.] Oprah Winfrey.
[Gym Spam, evening]
[After the last of the messages had trickled in, Duke had shaken himself off and tried to calm himself walking Brownie, fixing himself a very heavy chicken salad for supper, and tried to do some yoga poses. None of the activities had provided him any peace, and he eventually decided to just embrace the discomfort and beat the crap out of something.
So here he is, standing in the gym with knuckles bound in tape and taking out his frustrations on a punching bag. He’s more than competent in street-fighting, not exceptional but still practiced and forceful. He doesn’t even remember his first fistfight, although he’s sure he lost it, and that drives him on.]
[private]
He's a nice guy, he's looked out for me, and he's not so different from us.
Stop it. That's an order.
[Translation: you may be the dad, but I'm the leader. HEAR ME ROAR.]
[private]
[Dammit Allison. You know he's going to listen but dammit.]
[private]
...and yes, I know about that. Stuff's going to happen...never mind, I know.
[private]
I was sixteen, and it was business. And that's not the point, we're not talking about me.