Luka Rhys Delaney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
desperatebeliever) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
noirenewyork2014-02-02 11:13 pm
desperatebeliever) wrote in noirenewyork2014-02-02 11:13 pm
"I was standing... you were there..."
Who: Luka Delaney, Jett Wilson and Seamus O'Reilly (later with Xavier Carlisle, Molly Pierce and Ben Knight)
What: Two worlds colliding
Where: NYC Kindred HQ
When: In the wake of THIS
After intercepting Molly Pierce which pretty much led to her attempt to brush him off, Luka never really expected her to relent on anything. In fact, after that, he had tried to get away from her, resolute in the fact she wasn't going to help him like she helped Jett and he even tried to fight her elaboration on the whole thing. He used to be such a quiet and together kid, but these days, his mind was all over the place, at best, and he developed a habit of being hooked on his prescription pain medication to numb some of the inner conflict.
But she had relented, he just wasn't sure on what. She told him to promise not to top himself last night, to get some sleep, and meet her back in that same spot the next evening at the same time. Luka didn't sleep. He barely slept much these days with insomnia plaguing him, and then the only time he would crash out would be when he got so exhausted he was almost losing his mind. Last night, nightmares had overridden everything. Flashbacks of Afghanistan, and then the night he got raped because it was fresh in his mind after Molly had pulled him into an alley. So, he freaked, but he admitted she wasn't to know it would trigger shit for him. In saying that, most shit triggered things for him, and it was why he wanted to just... shut himself off for good.
Here they were again, though, and he was silent, pushing himself right into the corner of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest defensively as they rode up something like 30 stories. He hated heights. He wordlessly followed her up a long corridor and then there were glass security doors the lead into a large marble-floored foyer after fingerprint recognition got Molly in. Once in the foyer, Luka expected to the strip-searched or something, and he desperately hoped they wouldn't want an internal. Instead, he just had to give his name, his address (the hotel anyway) and give his fingerprints for the security register. What the fuck was this Mission Impossible fuckery?
And they were let in through another door by a butler-looking dude in an expensive suit and they were in this large apartment place. It was huge, open-planned with a large conference table to one side of the room and a living area with sprawling leather lounge and wall-sized TV screen and bar. He stepped inside behind Molly, hands buried deep in his pockets and looked around in awe. This place was fucking amazing... and they also weren't alone.
What: Two worlds colliding
Where: NYC Kindred HQ
When: In the wake of THIS
After intercepting Molly Pierce which pretty much led to her attempt to brush him off, Luka never really expected her to relent on anything. In fact, after that, he had tried to get away from her, resolute in the fact she wasn't going to help him like she helped Jett and he even tried to fight her elaboration on the whole thing. He used to be such a quiet and together kid, but these days, his mind was all over the place, at best, and he developed a habit of being hooked on his prescription pain medication to numb some of the inner conflict.
But she had relented, he just wasn't sure on what. She told him to promise not to top himself last night, to get some sleep, and meet her back in that same spot the next evening at the same time. Luka didn't sleep. He barely slept much these days with insomnia plaguing him, and then the only time he would crash out would be when he got so exhausted he was almost losing his mind. Last night, nightmares had overridden everything. Flashbacks of Afghanistan, and then the night he got raped because it was fresh in his mind after Molly had pulled him into an alley. So, he freaked, but he admitted she wasn't to know it would trigger shit for him. In saying that, most shit triggered things for him, and it was why he wanted to just... shut himself off for good.
Here they were again, though, and he was silent, pushing himself right into the corner of the elevator with his arms crossed over his chest defensively as they rode up something like 30 stories. He hated heights. He wordlessly followed her up a long corridor and then there were glass security doors the lead into a large marble-floored foyer after fingerprint recognition got Molly in. Once in the foyer, Luka expected to the strip-searched or something, and he desperately hoped they wouldn't want an internal. Instead, he just had to give his name, his address (the hotel anyway) and give his fingerprints for the security register. What the fuck was this Mission Impossible fuckery?
And they were let in through another door by a butler-looking dude in an expensive suit and they were in this large apartment place. It was huge, open-planned with a large conference table to one side of the room and a living area with sprawling leather lounge and wall-sized TV screen and bar. He stepped inside behind Molly, hands buried deep in his pockets and looked around in awe. This place was fucking amazing... and they also weren't alone.
no subject
Fuck yes, he was scared. Fucking Titanic and Henry VIII? That was a serious fucking elaborate story if Jett was bullshitting him. Jett had never bullshitted him before, though. Never. In fact, he was the only person in Luka's life who had ever been honest and open with him. Which is why he trusted him, even if he was this thing he was saying he was, it was still more than Luka trusted anyone else. Jett was all he had left, and he wanted - no, needed - to understand this so he didn't lose his best friend forever. Wordlessly, he held out his wrist to Jett, blue eyes still red-rimmed and teary from his near breakdown as he watched Jett with a mix of nervous curiosity and plain fear of what he was about to see.