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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 26, 2012 22:26:09 GMT -5
(i'm trying, i'm trying)
(to let you know how much you mean) ------------------------------------------------------- [/color][/center] Meg poked her head through the door of the conference room. It was a quiet day, the rest of the ex-CIA presumably in their rooms or doing jobs outside of the flower bay and its apartment complex up on top. The job that Meg was currently working at a small cafe had called to tell her that the owner was sick so she was closing up for the week and obviously, Meg didn't have to go. She was happy for that, even though she had wished the woman good health, having nothing against her. Meg smiled a little bit despite herself at the remembrance of the job. Being a waitress was not something that she was good at. She didn't like catering to other people's needs, and she wasn't what you would call a social butterfly. The woman had took her aside after a few tables and told here that she was going to be transporting food, not taking orders. Meg wasn't complaining.
The reason that Meg was wandering around the ex-CIA apartments was simple: boredom, and a bit of wanderlust. She hadn't wanted to brave the busy New York streets, which took away a bit from her wanderlust, but exploring the building where she was currently living seemed like a good idea. It would take her mind off of her lack of a job to do at the moment, and knowing one's surroundings was always a good idea. She might bump into another member, and that was usually interesting, even if Meg wasn't exactly in a socializing mood at the moment.
She sighed, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie so she could find her hands. The room that she had been peeping into was empty, and she had been curious because they hadn't ever had too many meetings in the room. I feel cheated, she thought to herself grumpily, scowling at the sight of a plain office conference room with a vase of lilies in the center. She was expecting something a bit cooler, but then again, they were low on funds (Meg could tell this because the air conditioning wasn't up again, and they had started getting letters about utilities). She took a step inside, though, noticing a door on the other side of the room. To her irritation, her hoodie caught on the doorknob.
"Dammit," she cursed softly, tugging at the black material. It was one of the prices of wearing hideously oversized clothes, it got caught on everything (other prices being that you couldn't tell if the wearer was packing heat, which Meg also thought of as a plus, and that she seemed ridiculously tiny when wearing them). Meg liked her hoodies to fit big, though, and she'd "suffer" the consequences. After a little bit more aimless pulling, the hoodie came free and the woman skirted around the table to go to the door.
This is much cooler, she thought to herself, staring at the open space. It was an area obviously set up for training (although she did see a corner with some nice couches and a TV, and was that a microwave?) and the sort. Meg smiled a bit. She hadn't known that such a place existed in the ex-CIA building, which was sort of ridiculous, in retrospect. There would be somewhere where the members of the agency could fraternize and keep their skills sharp, even if it wasn't advertised.
Meg meandered over to the couches, finding a remote for the television, and flopped down on the couch, hoodie riding up. She turned the TV on, flicking through the channels until she found a suitable horror flick. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Sweet. She wondered idly if the screaming and gunshots would be enough to bring someone to find her here, and brushed the thought off. It didn't matter too much to her, she could sit here and bond with another ex-CIA member over a gory horror movie.
[/size] ------------------------------------------------------- [/color][/center] (notes) someone should bring popcorn and throw it at her. word count - 668
(status) not done!
(tagged) open, to any and all!
(outfit) black hoodie, jeans.
(music) wake up - awolnation
(credit) NIKKI SYX ?! of caution2.0 |
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Post by AZRAEL DMITRI GREY on Jul 27, 2012 0:37:14 GMT -5
YOU'RE VULNERABLE, YOU ARE NOT A ROBOT
YOU'RE LOVABLE, SO LOVABLE BUT YOU'RE JUST TROUBLED
Working in the garden usually took up most of his morning, and well into his afternoon. Dmitri was really strict on how the flowers grew in the shop's backyard, and was glad to see that this season's flowers were growing properly. He had spent the morning plowing out a small area for the upcoming flowers. Since it was a slow day for the actual store itself, he let the girl working the counter take half the day off. He would call her back down once he was done. As he tossed at small towel over his shoulder, he glanced around the yard. Satisfied with the work he had done today, Dmitri headed into the shop, remembering to slip his muddy shoes off and step into his clean pair. After he was done inspecting the shop, making sure nothing had gone wrong, or missing, he sent a text to the girl that had been working earlier. He waited around for her to show up, before thanking her and wishing her a good day.
Dmitri started up the staircase, making his way to the fifth floor. This wasn't unusual to anyone that had been around for more than a couple months, since they caught wind of the fact that he was claustrophobic. Though he always made sure the elevator was in working order for everyone else. They had been taking in so many people that the CIA had kicked out, that Dmitri was very behind on showing the new tenants the full building. This probably meant that some weren't even aware of what the building held, unless they went wandering, or were shown by someone else. He felt bad about this, but his schedule kept him pretty busy already without trying to fit more things in.
Finally he reached his own apartment, and oddly enough Callen wasn't around. Dmitri took this advantage to take a quick shower, and threw on a simple t-shirt and jeans combo. Then he went rummaging through his own kitchen, marking down anything they were low on, or were missing entirely. He and Baylee weren't exactly in immediate need of groceries, but he didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the day, so he figured he'd just stock up their cupboards a bit more. Dmitri also grabbed a few sticky notes, writing 'Need anything grocery-wise? Toss a note under my door before six. -D' on four of them. He stuck his own list in his back pocket, and with the sticky notes in hand and headed out and back down the stairwell.
Each door leading to the stairs on each floor got one of his sticky notes on them. Since the stairs were pretty close to the elevator, most of his fellow members noticed in on their way in or out. This kind of gesture from him wasn't uncommon either. He made it very clear to anyone that moved in that if they needed anything, anything, they could come to him about it. He was the leader of the Ex-CIA, after all, and he ran the building. Dmitri felt it was his responsibility, but he also liked helping people out. He stepped into the second floor, and after slapping the sticky note onto the door he started to head towards the office area. The stock the office and training area held was usually quick to diminish, so Dmitri checked it on a weekly basis.
Though as he got closer, the sound of the television in the training area caught his attention. It wasn't that it was weird for him to find people in there; after all, that was its purpose. He hadn't come across any other residents of the building on his way up or down, so he had figured most were out at this time of day. Peeking in carefully, he noticed that it was Megan sitting on the couch, with what looked like a horror movie on the screen. A smirk crossed his lips, as he continued to quietly creep into the room. It was a difficult thing to try and keep a frame like his hidden, but he had gotten loads of practice. Dmitri moved only during the noisy parts, and soon he found himself close enough to the couch. He slowly stood up, and quickly grabbed Megan's shoulders. “Watch out!” He shouted, grinning in anticipation of her reaction.
TAGGED megan~
WORDS seven-four-one (741)
LYRICS i am not a robot - marina and the diamonds
NOTES clearly dmitri's in a good mood, haha.
CREDITS Go to BUNNYA! of A THOUSAND FIREFLIES.
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 27, 2012 1:22:30 GMT -5
(i'm trying, i'm trying)
(to let you know how much you mean) ------------------------------------------------------- [/color][/center] Meg watched raptly in fascination as the woman onscreen ran screaming away from the guy with the chainsaw. It was amusing, in a sick way, to see how terribly the woman kept failing at basic survival against serial killers. Then again, Meg probably knew a little more about survival in god-awful situations that what most people generally knew, so she wasn't going to start and criticize the writing. It was a gore flick, not meant to satisfy the mind's more intelligent needs, just the cringe factor. Cringe factor. Meg liked that, it sounded like a cool TV show.
"No, not in the woods!" she moaned, curling her legs up and shifting down to get more comfortable. She cringed as the woman screamed again, a high pitch that grated at the ears and made Meg want to turn the movie down a few decibels. She didn't, though. Meg liked her music and her everything that involved sound (assuming that it wasn't a conversation, of course) a bit too loud. It drowned out everything else, which was a good training exercise, and it made sudden loud noises that much less scary. Meg hated being the only one in the room to flinch whenever someone slammed something down. It wasn't even out of surprise, it was, to quote a psych evaluation done after the fear had surfaced, "acute psychological trauma" from being involved in a brutal gunfight.
Meg turned her attention back to the massacre on-screen. It wasn't even that scary, just very bloody. Meg wasn't easily phased by much, and this was no exception. She engrossed herself in the film enough to not pay attention to her surroundings at all. As an ex-CIA agent, this was never a good idea. However, no one was there that she knew of, and for all of its badness, Meg liked watching crappy horror movies. Oh, if only Dad could see me now. Meg's father would be rolling in his grave. He always insisted that she watch quality things, like Shakespeare. Meg adored Shakespeare, she'd memorized a few plays by heart (yes, she was an overachiever, yes, she had too much spare time, Meg agreed wryly) but sometimes all that you needed was a bad movie.
Her attention was so caught up in the film that she didn't even notice the sneaky leader of the ex-CIA creeping into the room like his own bad horror film until it was too late.
"Holy sh-" she screeched, and jumped up and away, muscles tense and ready to lash out and attack if need be until she registered who it was. Dmitri. The ex-CIA leader himself, he who probably went out of his way to scare the living daylights out of her. Meg sighed, adrenaline still racing through her, and dropped her arms from her protective stance, hoodie sleeves dropping a few inches past the tips of her fingers.
"Dmitri. You are an ass." she muttered dryly, but chuckled a bit begrudgingly. A shrill scream came through the TV, and Meg winced, picking up the fallen remote to turn it down a bit. The sounds of the chainsaw sawing through flesh was muted drastically, and the woman let herself relax a little bit, breathing deep to dispel the adrenaline. Her fight or flight instincts left her heart racing, and she was now on edge again.
"Seriously, though. What if I was carrying a weapon? I could have freaking shanked you or something," she challenged, hands on her hips. Meg was still amused, despite the annoyance and slight embarrassment that he had gotten the drop on her. I am so out of it.
[/size] ------------------------------------------------------- [/color][/center] (notes) pfft, meg trying to act cool about it. word count - 626
(status) not done!
(tagged) dmitri/open
(outfit) black hoodie, jeans.
(music) wake up - awolnation
(credit) NIKKI SYX ?! of caution2.0 |
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