"Hal...?"
<Danny.>
"What do you think of all this?"
<What? You mean all this shit with Dirk and Ed and the agent?>
"Yeah."
<If I were you, I would've stabbed Turner in the eye with a truckload of snake venom the first chance I got. But then... I'm not you. Yet.>
"...right..."
This is not going away easily.
For now... there seems to be some sort of truce, however uneasy it may be.
But still... this is not going away easily.
Ed. Turner. Dirk. There's issues there... issues that will need to be resolved before we can call ourselves a team.
But damn it, if I have to kick all their arses to do it, they're going to resolve them. This is my team. My home. Hell, my friends. I'm not going to let them fall apart because of some clashing egos.
I walk to my room.
Danny walked to his room on the seventh floor, to get ready. It looked like the team was getting set for a night on the town, and that was something Danny was yet to fully experience since he came to the year 2002. He'd been on the occasional social jaunt, but never just headed out for a night of fun.
He sat down on the bed.
I sit down on the bed. I wince as I do so as paint shoots up my torso.
Here I am, recovering from a broken rib and a stab wound. And I volunteer for a fistfight with an ex-EPs agent. Fucking pride.
Fucking Turner. I couldn't have walked away, though. Not from a chance to make my point.
Turns out Dirk made it for me. Still... all that fighting from before Dirk showed up REALLY isn't good for the healing process.
But for now... I have to put up with Turner hanging around. Apparently. Because Eurostar vouches for him.
Speaking of which... Eurostar is back.
Things have to get better now. Eurostar is back. There hasn't been many of the originals left... Larry is gone. Tobias is gone. Pete is gone. I'm living in a house full of strangers.
But now... Eurostar is back. The first meta I met when I came here. The man who helped me out. If it wasn't for him, I would never have hooked up with the team.
Eurostar is back.
I get dressed.
Danny got dressed. Plain jeans and a plain t-shirt. He looked down at himself, then looked in the mirror.
I look in the mirror.
Plain jeans. Plain t-shirt. Hell... I've been here a couple of months now... and THIS is all I own?
I think that's a tomato sauce stain on the jeans. This just won't do.
Fashion never seemed all that important, but now I'm actually going to do something social... I feel like I should be in something slightly nicer. Slightly cooler.
I'm gonna go see if I can borrow some clothes from someone.
[ 09-06-2002, 09:25 PM: Message edited by: Danny ]
