lastgunslinger: (my love is like a red red rose)
[personal profile] lastgunslinger
The door opens, and Roland enters, bearing Kaylee.

The bed is made; Roland sets Kaylee down carefully, and stands there looking down at her for a moment.

He reaches for the blue blanket that stretches across the foot of the bed -- the one made by the hand of Rosalita Munoz -- and covers Kaylee with it.

Then he sits on the edge of the bed and puts his face in his hands.

Date: 2005-07-11 07:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honest-johns.livejournal.com
"But he runs the class. Teacher."

Low. Not really a question.

Alain's narrowed eyes glitter.

Date: 2005-07-11 07:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honest-johns.livejournal.com
A single nod. He's heard the phrase.

He's wondering now, too.

...And still really, really wanting to have Mikage within gunshot range. He wants it with a cold fury that strengthens every time he looks at Roland's grey face and the exhausted set of his shoulders.

Date: 2005-07-11 07:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] honest-johns.livejournal.com
Alain doesn't ask if he'll be all right.

Wants to. But it's a stupid question. It's Roland's decision to make, and he's made it.

Instead, his jaw sets for a moment -- the worry's more hidden now, but it's still there -- and then he nods.

"All right. I'll be around."

Around, in case Roland wants him later.

Around, keeping an eye out for a certain pink-haired teacher.

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lastgunslinger

August 2009

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