Marcus Bell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecitysgain) wrote2014-01-04 06:23 pm
thecitysgain) wrote2014-01-04 06:23 pm
Entry tags:
PSL: Lockbell
There was a time Marcus would've appreciated a quiet Friday night. He'd grab a beer, take the chance to catch up on his tv shows, and relish the fact that for once he could get a full night's sleep. But he's had a few too many full nights of sleep since...well, you know when. It's kind of lost its charm.
He flicks idly through the tv, trying to find something that isn't the racist lady with the butter obsession or one of the ten million Law & Orders. Taking a sip of his milk, he settles for America's Next Top Model.
He flicks idly through the tv, trying to find something that isn't the racist lady with the butter obsession or one of the ten million Law & Orders. Taking a sip of his milk, he settles for America's Next Top Model.
no subject
"What are you doing here."
He's a little impressed with how calm he sounds, considering he feels like a stone has been dropped in his belly. Or maybe a snake. Slimy, slithering, sickening tendrils of anger, frustration, fear, and pleasure, all knotted up inside, hissing. The pleasure is the worst part. Marcus is perfectly comfortable with being angry, but it's humiliating to admit -- even just to himself -- that he's glad to see the other man. That there's something a little thrilling about having the "world's greatest detective" chase after him.