[open] when I came down, the dawn poured into me

[5055034455]

Date & Time: May 28, morning/afternoon
Location: Room 509 & the Hold
Characters: Saul & whoever's around
Summary: In which Saul has lost the ability to deal.
Warnings: All aboard the angst express BOO HOO WOO WOO~ CW for a panic attack. Also: Stephanie.

A — CLOSED to the residents of apartment 509;

[Saul is making pancakes at 5:45 AM because he's lost control of his life.

Or, more accurately, because he's awake and hungry and they just so happen to have the proper ingredients and if he doesn't do something aside from flopping from side to side in a futile attempt to get a little more sleep, he's pretty sure he might actually go crazy.

So: PANCAKES.

He's trying to be quiet, but he's chugged so much coffee that his hands are shaking and there's a good chance he might —

A pan clatters to the floor.

Oops.]

B — OPEN to whoever might run in to him;

[A little later, after he's fueled up on more caffeine and some syrup he's fairly certain is over a millennium old (call him skeptical, but he knows better than to believe, even for a second, that Mrs. Butterworth is still a thing), he makes his rounds.

First, he checks the office. It's still too early; no one's there, and it's too quiet. He tries sitting at his desk to meditate, but within seconds his leg is bouncing wildly, the toe of his wingtip digging into the carpet underfoot.

He refuses to believe that this is legitimate anxiety. That feeling clawing at the pit of his stomach — nope. Old syrup and crappy coffee, nothing more. It's certainly not the nightmares he's been having. It has nothing to do with Jesse. It's not the image of Stephanie, dead. It's not the possibility of Walter showing up and everything going to Hell.

When he hits his knee on the underside of his desk, he decides to head elsewhere.

He arrives in one of the Hold's training rooms shortly thereafter, where he checks to make sure he hasn't lost his ability to handle a weapon since getting taken out by one. His aim's a little off, but that's nothing new. His grip is firm, steady. Surprisingly so. He's not yelling at anything this time, not pausing to make snarky comments no one (correction: no one he can see) will hear — he's all focus this morning, to the point where he falls into a steady rhythm of load, fire, reload. Click, bang, click. It's almost hypnotic.

Almost.

The energy high starts to die down after about half an hour. When the momentum stops, so does Saul, slammed with a sudden wave of panic that makes him fumble with his gun.

If the Initiative can raise people from the dead, why can't they make them forget dying in the first place? That's what he wants to know.

He also wants to know why he decided to do this in one of his suits. With a shrug, he sheds his jacket, and he's soon sitting heavily on one of the benches outside the training area with his sleeves rolled up, tie undone, head in his hands. If he had the option, he'd have gone to the safehouse to do this, have his little moment of weakness in private rather than out here in the open, but the funny thing about walking is that it requires breathing.

And that's a bit of a problem, at the moment.

It's times like these he really misses the luxuries of his office, like the drawer full of benzos he kept just in case.

"Just in case what?" Francesca had asked.

This, he thinks. In case of this.]

Comments

[thecag]

No one is from a moon. At best, they've relocated from somewhere else.

[So there. Oh and he isn't hung over enough to have forgotten, so.]

So why are you up at five thirty in the morning anyways?

[5055034455]

How do you know? Just because you're from space doesn't make you an expert on extraterrestrial worlds.

[SCIENCE, BITCH.]

I'm up because I wasn't drunk as shit last night. This is when I usually get up.

[except

he hasn't technically slept

oops]

[thecag]

[Lee knows the face of a well rested man and Saul's is not. Here, have his skeptical brow because. Come on. Really.]

I'll have you know, after a few more of these pancakes I'll be up for the day.

...So do you usually make breakfast every morning. Because I am willing to take turns.

[He's just going to keep staring because he does not believe lies regarding the previous night's sleep.]

[5055034455]

[What the hell ever, man. Keep giving him that look. See how many more pancakes you get with that face on.]

When the mood strikes.

[thecag]

I'm out of practice but once I've burned my way through a few eggs I should be good to go.

[Uh huh. Fine then. He'll just take some more of what Saul makes before he can be denied.]

[5055034455]

Son, eggs are expensive. You wanna burn through them, you go out and buy your own.

I'm impressed with how long they can small talk about fuck all...

[thecag]

At least we have eggs to buy.

And yes, I'll go buy replacements for anything I ruin.

[Look at the man. He's military and embraces it. Lee pretty much has nothing he'd rather spend his money on anyways. Food is the best. Well, food and booze.]

:D :D

[5055034455]

"Eggs."

[Complete with air quotes.]

[thecag]

[Air quotes. Now those Lee gets.]

I'm not sure if you mean here or where I came from. Where I came from try "algae omelet."

[Quotes and all.]

[5055034455]

That's some hippie shit.

[Something they'd sell at the local Whole Foods.

Gross.]

[thecag]

I don't know what hippie shit is but it was absolutely disgusting. After a while, there's only so many ways to lie to yourself that you're not eating blue goo for the umpteenth time.

[There's a reason he's practically gorging himself on pancakes.]

[5055034455]

...blue?

Isn't algae green?

[This is a serious question, Lee.]

[thecag]

Apparently it comes in a blue variety. Or it's a side effect of processing. I don't know, it's not particularly appetizing either way.

[And here is a serious answer!]

[5055034455]

Gross.

[This has been such a good talk.]