therealgamble

[therealgamble]

“Two types of people laugh at the law: those that break it and those that make it.”

"Look, the world isn't black and white." Brian sighed, annoyed by the quote.

It wasn't easy every day, watching the world do what it does, watching people live their lives and all of the various random ass things they do, and then having to decide which random things line up to the various sections of the California penal code. And then once you've figured that out, you have to decide the best course of action to take. Do they get a ticket? Do they get arrested?

Now there's all kinds of rules governing that too, but here they give a little more wiggle room. You can give a warning instead of a ticket if you feel like it. You can give a slightly higher ticket by throwing in some modifiers if you feel like it. And some of the more aggressive types could get in a few licks on the way to jail if it made them feel good. But most would say that it's all pretty black and white. Action and consequence.

But sometimes the rules just don't quite fit the situation. Sometimes you have to do something a bit outside the lines to bring it to that resolution. And sometimes that means you end up shooting a hostage, non-lethally, to take down that gunman.

In his mind, nothing was ever that simple.

"There's actually a third option, 'those who find the law absolutely ridiculous'. Did you know it's illegal to throw a frisbee at the beach without the lifeguard's permission?" He raised an eyebrow, gave a shrug and walked away.

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reminder: it’s not writer’s block; you’re just giving your characters time to think about their mistakes. very generous of you.

[therealgamble]

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Happy Friday Maus

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For just a moment, he wonders if she's just fucking with him, trying to make him talk and thinking he's full of shit. But that's not her. He knows that she's completely serious. She wouldn't joke with him about something like this.

"Ugh, yeah. I guess you'd have to be afraid of certain places or situations. I'm glad you have that awareness. So many don't." It's not said with any kind of condescension, he's seen himself what happens to women when they don't listen to that inner warning and go down that dark street alone. You can't really teach that kind of awareness either. People either have it or they don't. Of course, he's sure Riley did a lot of work making sure she had it.

His head turns slightly as she scoots in closer, sort of surprised at the action and how interested she really seems.

"I mean, there are a lot of times. I walked past a guy in the precinct that was just sitting at a detective's desk, and the hairs on my neck and arms stood up. I just felt evil, like he was radiating bad intentions. I'll never forget his face, his eyes were blank, dead." He gave an involuntary shudder and took another sip of his drink.

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Brian's smile is arresting, and she doesn't realise there is a pun in her thoughts, because she's more focused on the way it lacks his typical cynical bite. She can also sense the beer on his tongue and maybe a little part of her is jealous of it, not that she would dream of saying so, especially not when her brother is within felony distance. She watches avidly as he produces the hidden jewellery. The dog tags don't surprise her, Andy's pair now live inside of her stuffed turtle, sewn into it after his accident. It's the medallion that raises her brow, paints genuine surprise on her face. Now just because he keeps the medallion on his person ~Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.~ doesn't automatically mean that Brian is Catholic, or possibly Lutheran. A lot of his brothers and sisters wear them, and Beth can hear Andy saying there's no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole, but still. Fascinating when you think you know someone so well and they manage to surprise you, even now, years later. As often as she's seen him shirtless, on the beach, at the lake, in the ER, she felt like she might have noticed.

"Oh, all the time," she nods her head in agreement. It's the one thing that Andy really doesn't make fun of her about believing, and being adamantly vocal about it, too. "Not just people, either. Places sometimes. Situations, too, I guess. Kind of stuff that's luckily kept me safe while he was on tour, knowing better than to walk down a certain street or get into an elevator alone with someone."

As a small woman who sometimes worked in the worst parts of the city or in countries notorious for crimes against women and children, she had been fortunate to develop a strong intuition. She scoots closer to Brian, on the edge of her seat really, and leans in conspiratorially. She can taste the beer on his breath and it's warm, close, pleasant. But for once, Beth isn't even thinking about kissing Brian. Her voice is edged with nerves and excitement of a different kind. "Tell me."

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He gave a slight smile at her joking about a smaller opponent. Right then he really wished he'd made some different choices and hadn't ended up there.

You asked me why I was so nice. He'd forgotten about that, and he was brought back to wondering if she knew. He expected to be treated like a criminal, harshly and with little compassion. But if she didn't know, he wasn't exactly willing to clue her in. Why make her hate him? So he ignored it for the moment.

He watched her carefully as she revealed little pieces about herself, trying to gauge how true her words were, and feeling in the end like she was being pretty honest, even if she seemed to hide slightly behind her work.

"Oh, so you're like me then?" A slight laugh sounded in his words. Not following the rules had definitely gotten him into a lot of trouble. But he still had no plans of going arrow straight anytime soon. "I don't suppose I could convince you to go get me a cheeseburger? I swear, it's just what I need to heal." He was actually feeling really hungry even after spilling out his stomach on the floor.

That last bit made him stop joking though. She at least knew what was going on here. Maybe she was a source of information he could use. Maybe she was just compassionate and reckless enough.

"They want me for my shooting skills?" He asked, an eyebrow raised just slightly. "Are they government? Private? Foreign?" He tried to keep his voice even, like they were discussing the weather. She couldn't know how important her answers would actually be to him. "How well will they treat me if I agree?" That one was the clincher. Would he be a slave, or a prince?

@therealgamble cont. from (x)

He was back at the train yard again, fighting with Jimmy, the train was coming and he hit the ground. And then he was awake again, back in the hospital room, if it really was a hospital room. Now he wasn't so sure about that part. Her voice roused him from his thoughts, sitting near him with a book in her hand. She'd obviously been watching over him, or waiting for him to wake up. "Like I lost a fight with a train." He replied, giving a quiet rusty laugh. The pain meds were taking the edge off though, and he knew he'd eventually heal. "Earlier?" He asked, "What did I say?" He knew exactly what he'd said, but wasn't sure what all she'd heard. And suddenly, he wasn't sure if he could trust her. She did work for these goons after all, maybe she was the honey they were using to bait the trap. But she seemed so earnest. "I said you're not one of them." He decided to go with the simpler truth. "I don't think you're in on all of this. Just a hired hand." He said it almost coldly, wanting to see how she reacted to it. He'd always been pretty good at reading people's character and knowing when they were full of shit. Those guys that had come in before were completely full of shit in a lot of ways. And their demeanor screamed "douchebag". Of course anyone paying half attention would have seen it. In the short time he'd been around her she seemed to be genuine, although there was something nagging at him, a feeling that she was holding something back rather than lying, a sense that something was off.

His quip about the train drew a soft smile spreading across her features. Albeit a small sign, still It was a slight indication that he might recover. Though tempered by the fear that their insistence on moving him too soon would likely negate it in the end, Sarah couldn’t help feeling a bit of optimistic hope for her patient.

Dark humor was a common coping mechanism among first responders and medical personnel. Perhaps it made her feel more sympathetic. “Next time maybe choose a slightly smaller opponent.” She replied. “Like a car, single engine plane…” Sarah dropped off mid-sentence, her smile a touch wider.

She watched him as he asked her what he’d said before, trying to get a read on whether he didn’t recall (entirely plausible given the extent of his injuries), the effects of the meds he was on, or he was doing the same thing in return trying to get a bead on her.

“You asked me why I was so nice.” She said quietly after he seemed to make a choice and reply before she even opened her mouth to respond.

“Well, yes and no about just a hired hand.” There were many reasons she chose to answer, she wouldn’t have been able to separate one from the many that tipped the scales. The truth was she’d have been hard pressed to name what it was that swayed her in the end. Perhaps it was as simple as his passing resemblance to someone else, though she wasn’t about to admit it. Neither out loud or even to herself.

Sarah busied herself with noting numbers for his chart even as she knew they’d make no difference to the people ultimately choosing to ignore medical advice because it didn’t suit their agenda. It simply bought her time to consider her words while she fussed with machines and tubing. “I’m not exactly known for following the rules.” She said after a moment hands stilling briefly as she offered the explanation.

“Do I have a general idea of what they want and why you?” Though her tone was soft, and not simply in deference to their surroundings, the set to her lips was a grim line as she met his eyes. “Yeah.”

She left it at that, wanting to see how her words effected him. Though she could assume how he might respond, the dance between them continued on as each tried to assess the other.

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"Oooh, blackened Brian." He nodded in approval of her choice of seasoning. The fact that she was toying with him just proved, in his mind, that she wasn't really all that mad.

He watched as she moved, giving a little shrug. "Hey, it's not my fault that she was nuts. Sometimes they just turn out that way." Some women were a mystery, some were an open book, and some were just batshit crazy. It's not like it's printed on the outside.

"You love me." He quipped easily, "And of course. Where would you like to go?"

He laughed at the way she pushed him away, so rough even though she'd been holding on for dear life only a moment ago. So incredibly independent, so unwilling to ever put herself in any kind of vulnerable position. It made her easy to antagonize.

"I'm truly terrified." He responded with a laugh. "Try mesquite. I hear it's the best for human flesh." He's completely unphased by her blustering, although he knows he likely deserves it for what just happened, even if he refuses to believe she didn't enjoy it just a little.

"Ex girlfriend just passed by. She was one of those real psycho chicks. Had all our kids names picked out. Was planning a wedding when I'd never proposed." He gave a shrug, as if hiding from a woman was the most normal thing in the world. "If she noticed me you scared her away from making a scene. If she didn't, then it's a win all around."

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"You're strong, and I know you'll get through this."

"Thank you, baby." He replied with a smile and a wink. He wasn't feeling very strong right now or like he'd get through it, but he knew that she was trying to be his ray of sunshine as always.

They were sitting in a hospital, waiting for word on an officer that had been shot during a simple traffic stop. The entire force had been there in shifts, as many as could fit in the small waiting room at a time.

He glanced around the room at all the faces - worried, tired, angry. "How do we make this room a little less like a morgue, babe?"

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