no_sin_but (
no_sin_but) wrote2007-09-18 04:30 pm
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this is a placeholder, as mun is multitasking.
marlowe is in his room, lying on his bed, reading.
1984, in fact. He's about to the bit about the governments being evil and changing who they are fighting to keep the population under its boot.
read, kit, read.
marlowe is in his room, lying on his bed, reading.
1984, in fact. He's about to the bit about the governments being evil and changing who they are fighting to keep the population under its boot.
read, kit, read.
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Darren has faith it will continue to refine itself.
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He gives up on the idea of reading, and slides down the bed, one ankle crossing over the other, as is customary when he plans on an afternoon nap.
He pulls off the glasses and starts on the scarf.
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He sets the glasses down on the dresser with precise care. This time he will not forget where they are.
Of course.
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Just, the run is very, very, very long.
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"How long are we talking?"
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Though he has had a certain mellowness recently that he hasn't felt in a very long time.
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Darren gets too hooked up on the small details. The hovering, the sequins.
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Priesthood. Marlowe. Right.
"That would have gone well."
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"Don't you think the robes would have suited me?"
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"Shamefully modest."
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"Not...quite the word I was after."
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He makes it sound perfectly innocent, too. Because it is, of course. He's not doing the sex thing right now. Marlowe is just a roommate. Of course.
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Trust him, he knows.
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Maybe they had different kinds of priests.
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In case Marlowe was wondering.
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Just gets a laugh, and Marlowe turns to Sherlock Holmes.