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Nov. 6th, 2003 12:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nanowrenletThat night, Justin found himself sketching the late Mrs. Maloney. He hadn't meant to when he sat down but it happened like that sometimes, images flowing across the paper that were not originally what he'd had in mind. She was smiling, but not the same way she had smiled at him in the department store. Instead Justin drew her face as he'd last seen it, when the light broke across her features from over his shoulder and she had seen for the first time where she was going next. She had looked... beautiful, and peaceful, and ready to go. She'd kissed his cheek before she left, as if she was thanking him. As if he had personally given this gift to her.
Reaping might not be such a hard thing after all.
He wondered, as he drew, whether he could have looked like that, if the afterlife could have offered him anything beautiful enough to tempt him away from Brian's side, from Brian's grief. He didn't think so, but... well, he couldn't know for sure. Not now, and probably not for a long time. Rube was typically cagey about what happened to reapers when they moved on, and Justin suspected it was because he just didn't know.
The light was much better than the night before.
Justin's celebratory malt had led to his critique of the service at the restaurant, Rube's questioning whether he could do better, and Justin's insistence that of -course- he could, only not there because the tips had to be for shit. And besides, he couldn't stand the place. He had no idea what Rube saw in it.
Justin would bet he could still pull pretty decent tips at the Liberty Diner, bubble butt or no bubble butt, but that was naturally out of the question. So he'd run down the list of other places he knew of that might be hiring -- out loud, to Rube's vast amusement -- with asides as to the orientation and hotness of the typical clientele and Justin's chances at charming tips out of them.
Two hours later, Justin had a job. Twenty minutes after that he'd convinced Rube to give him an advance against his first check -- he needed clothes, for one, as the restaurant's dress code included neither hoodies nor cargo pants -- and an hour after -that- he was loading his fridge and plugging in his new torchiere. He still needed a chair, something big and comfortable, and he thought maybe after he paid back Rube's loan he'd see what he could pick up at a garage sale or something.
Justin also had a new name. Rube said not to worry about paperwork, he "knew a guy who knew a guy" who could get him set up before his first day on the job. Justin insisted that 'Sean Fitzgerald' be at -least- twenty-one; with all he'd been through he sure as fuck deserved to drink. Rube had been surprisingly agreeable to that.
His new life was starting to take shape around him; he had two jobs, the promise of money coming in, and a place of his own where he could draw late into the night if he felt like it. He felt like it, so he did. And, despite all his intentions otherwise, he fell asleep with Brian's eyes lying on his bed next to him again that night.
[Question for my faithfulwhipcracking readers: better to post shorter pieces as I finish them, when I do, or longer pieces later?]
[560/560/10564]
Reaping might not be such a hard thing after all.
He wondered, as he drew, whether he could have looked like that, if the afterlife could have offered him anything beautiful enough to tempt him away from Brian's side, from Brian's grief. He didn't think so, but... well, he couldn't know for sure. Not now, and probably not for a long time. Rube was typically cagey about what happened to reapers when they moved on, and Justin suspected it was because he just didn't know.
The light was much better than the night before.
Justin's celebratory malt had led to his critique of the service at the restaurant, Rube's questioning whether he could do better, and Justin's insistence that of -course- he could, only not there because the tips had to be for shit. And besides, he couldn't stand the place. He had no idea what Rube saw in it.
Justin would bet he could still pull pretty decent tips at the Liberty Diner, bubble butt or no bubble butt, but that was naturally out of the question. So he'd run down the list of other places he knew of that might be hiring -- out loud, to Rube's vast amusement -- with asides as to the orientation and hotness of the typical clientele and Justin's chances at charming tips out of them.
Two hours later, Justin had a job. Twenty minutes after that he'd convinced Rube to give him an advance against his first check -- he needed clothes, for one, as the restaurant's dress code included neither hoodies nor cargo pants -- and an hour after -that- he was loading his fridge and plugging in his new torchiere. He still needed a chair, something big and comfortable, and he thought maybe after he paid back Rube's loan he'd see what he could pick up at a garage sale or something.
Justin also had a new name. Rube said not to worry about paperwork, he "knew a guy who knew a guy" who could get him set up before his first day on the job. Justin insisted that 'Sean Fitzgerald' be at -least- twenty-one; with all he'd been through he sure as fuck deserved to drink. Rube had been surprisingly agreeable to that.
His new life was starting to take shape around him; he had two jobs, the promise of money coming in, and a place of his own where he could draw late into the night if he felt like it. He felt like it, so he did. And, despite all his intentions otherwise, he fell asleep with Brian's eyes lying on his bed next to him again that night.
[Question for my faithful
[560/560/10564]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-06 11:07 am (UTC)whipcrackingreaders: better to post shorter pieces as I finish them, when I do, or longer pieces later?]Well, which will make you write faster?
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Date: 2003-11-06 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-06 12:14 pm (UTC)See - just keep going.
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Date: 2003-11-06 12:15 pm (UTC)Oh perfect! I never saw that coming, but it is so much nicer than a polaroid.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-06 01:04 pm (UTC)*is so very obvious*
no subject
Date: 2003-11-06 01:55 pm (UTC)No - it is sweet and in canon and very appropriate.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-13 01:14 pm (UTC)but
I thought reapers didn't get paid - hence the having to get a real job thing...
::shrinks so as to hopefully get by without being noticed, but slightly curious::
no subject
Date: 2003-11-13 01:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-13 01:35 pm (UTC)::facepalm::
makes perfect sense
ignore me
Settling in
Date: 2008-07-17 10:03 am (UTC)