Leaned half-in and half-out of the vehicle as he is, torso craned to one side to fit between the doorframe and the folded passenger seat, Zeke can catch enough of the words to get the gist— and sympathize with not only the hint of frustration that he thinks he might detect but also the undercurrent of anxiety running just beneath them.
The last place you want a flat tire is, well, anywhere, honestly, but you especially didn't want one in the middle of a secluded park nearing civil twilight, with seemingly one other soul around. And yet, here they are, with not one or two but eight flat tires. A fact that went well above and beyond being a mere coincidence. A healthy amount of concern wasn't simply reasonable; it was called for in this situation.
Stretching out his arm, fingertips graze the corner of the beige-colored blanket left right where he thought it would be. But before he can grab it (or think about how the cramped space was making it a little hard to breathe— this sensation existing wholly in his head), a single gunshot instantly makes the evening pivot from all-too-quiet to suddenly deafening.
The single, large caliber bullet shatters the open car door's window, spraying glass out onto the concrete entirely too close to Zeke for comfort and, perhaps, as she had already been in the process of moving closer, a little too close to Merris' person, as well.
There is no time to react in the moment apart from instinctively turning his face away.
@ghxstfrxquxncies, continued from here
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I went back to rewatch the Brotherhood scenes and grab some screencaps, and honestly I was quite surprised that this line was from Quirin! I had misremembered it as one of Hector’s
I love it though. Quirin’s role in the Brotherhood is criminally underutilized a little bit of a mixed one between Hector’s stark loyalty and Adira’s dissatisfaction with the current state. On the one hand, Quirin has by all signs seeming left the Brotherhood - he’s settled down in another kingdom, started a family, is happily living a farmer’s life.
But at the same time - he has been doing his duty behind the scenes. He’s the one who finds the Sundrop and while he seemingly breaks his oath to warn Frederic about removing it, for all we know he never mentions the Moonstone or the DK - just that removing the flower is a Bad Idea because this scroll says so. (and given that both the scroll & Corona’s ties to Demanitus, I wonder if that’s what led him there)
He probably chose to settle in Old Corona because the flower was removed to keep an eye on things. Probably lots of regrets about the Sundrop being real all along, only for it to be immediately lost. (I wonder if he told Adira)
Then all is quiet for 18 years. And then a year before BEA, the rocks suddenly appear where the flower was (really wonder what the catalyst for this is). Then 6 months later, the lost princess appears. Then 6 more months later her magic hair is back. And the rocks are spreading.
He’s the first one aware of it and.... he does nothing. Says nothing to anyone, just asks for more land when the situation gets bad enough. I think there’s a combination of things preventing him from speaking, but I’d like to think that at least one is him being lawful stupid - He is a knight of the Brotherhood. He will not reveal anything about the Moonstone ever.
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Trip to a Coffee Shop; a Harvey & Scott Drabble
Part Thirteen: The Sick Ant
"Harvey? Tell me that's you." Scott's voice, hoarse and scratchy, called from behind the counter seconds after Harvey entered the coffee shop. Harvey couldn't see him. "I need help."
Harvey tried to squash the worry as he hurried behind the counter. Sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter, was Scott Lang looking absolutely miserable. He was coated in sweat, there were bags under his eyes, his hair was a scruffy mess and there were splats of vomit on his shirt.
"Jesus, you look like shit," Harvey said, kneeling in front of him. "How long have you been sitting here?"
"Too long. Waaay too long," Scott groaned. "I tried to make my way to my room but I collapsed halfway. I kept throwing up and my body feels numb and..."
"It's okay, kid. I'll get you to your room," Harvey said, schooling his voice into something gentle. "We'll change your shirt too. Come on."
Harvey stood and held his hand out for Scott to take, and he did so with a poor excuse of a grip. Harvey slowly helped Scott stand, though he still slouched and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before they could move.
Thankfully, Scott's room was right behind the counter so they didn't have to walk that far to his bed. It still took a little time thanks to how slow they had to move, and it was clear that Scott was struggling to not throw up again. Harvey carefully sat Scott on his bed.
"Lift your arms for me," he instructed.
The fact that Scott did so without protesting or complaining was a testament to how miserable he really was. Harvey pulled Scott's dirty shirt off and threw it in the laundry basket. He went to his small wardrobe and searched until he found a muscle shirt. Scott was able to slip it on himself.
While Scott laid on his back, Harvey went to the storage room/kitchen and got a bowl for Scott to throw up in. Before leaving, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer and a hand towel.
"You don't have to stay," Scott said when Harvey came back. "I just needed to get back to my room."
"I'm staying whether you like it or not," Harvey replied. He put the bowl and hand towel on the nightstand.
He placed the icepack on Scott's forehead and the guy practically jumped out of his skin. "COLD!"
"Obviously," Harvey said, dryly. "Keep that on your forehead. It'll help. Do you have any medicine here?"
Scott shook his head. Harvey sighed. "Alright, I'll be back in a bit with some medicine then. Stay here, don't get up from bed. There's a bowl on the nightstand for when you need to throw up."
"Thank you, Harvey..."
Harvey shrugged, lightly ruffled Scott's sweat-soaked hair. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon."
With that, Harvey's day of taking care of a Sick Scott Lang started. He bought cough syrup, Tylenol, different cans of soup, other cold medicine. Was it a bit excessive? Maybe. But it was just in case Scott got another fever. This way, he wouldn't run out quickly.
Throughout the day, Scott was in and out of consciousness. Most times when he woke up, he'd vomit, complain about the cough syrup, and pass out again. He was never awake long enough for Harvey to ask if he was willing to try some soup.
There was a time where Scott started freaking out, claiming that he was dying. He didn't want to die yet, he had to live and watch Cassie grow up because he missed time. He freaked out so bad, Harvey called Cassie and had her talk Scott to sleep. The poor child was scared for her dad. It took a while for Harvey to assure her that her dad wasn't really dying.
Around 10:30PM, Harvey tried to get Scott to eat some soup. Of course, the kid was pouting and whining, saying he'd only throw it up. Harvey agreed with that, but Scott still needed to eat. It took a whole fifteen minutes to convince Scott to have a couple spoonful's.
Somehow, Scott managed to keep it down but he passed out shortly after. When he was out again, Harvey cleaned up the vomit bowl, replaced Scott's icepack, and put the rest of the soup in the microwave for later. He turned all the lights off in the shop, locked the front door and sat next to Scott's bed.
XXX
Scott still felt miserable when he woke up the next afternoon, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before. He didn't even throw up as soon as he woke up. He wasn't as hot, probably because he had two icepacks on him now. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he didn't want to drift into a nightmare about dying.
He licked his dry lips, shifted onto his side, one of his icepacks sliding down his forehead. He adjusted it and yawned loudly. It felt great to be awake and not want to throw up. When Scott looked up, he blinked, surprised at the sight.
Harvey was still sitting in the same chair, out like a light, no doubt exhausted from caring for Scott the day prior. Thankfully, the man didn't look like he was getting sick.
There was a comfortable warmth in Scott's chest. He smiled at the thought that Harvey stayed the whole time. Down the line, whenever Harvey needed his assistance, Scott was going to stay as long as he needed.
If only everyone knew that Harvey Specter wasn't as rough and cold as people thought he was.
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