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Apr. 21st, 2006 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecooloneBill's thoughts are not fit for public consumption. They're barely fit for his own: he paces the floor of Room 42. Back and forth, back and forth: does she think he's stayed away this whole time over a buggering fight? Has she got his letter yet? Does she have a sense he's trying to reach her and can't? All the thoughts, of course, are punctuated heavily by fuck! and bloody hell! and damn! and his brother Charlie's favourite, fuckity fuck fuck!
He's miserable. Completely, utterly miserable and frantic. It's a bloody fuck of a good fucking thing she's as good a witch as she is. Fuck's sake, she saved his life. Twice.
And this is how you repay her, Bill. How very genteel of you.
He's so caught up in angry thought that he doesn't even hear the door opening.
He's miserable. Completely, utterly miserable and frantic. It's a bloody fuck of a good fucking thing she's as good a witch as she is. Fuck's sake, she saved his life. Twice.
And this is how you repay her, Bill. How very genteel of you.
He's so caught up in angry thought that he doesn't even hear the door opening.
