Quick Gregory And Cassie Doodle!!

☆ Quick Gregory and Cassie doodle!! ☆

The kids tough...but he's been through too much to always stay that way.

❛ You’re okay. You’ve just been asleep for a few days. ❜

CATCHING FIRE (2013) SENTENCE STARTERS

★ — For lack of a better term, Gregory wakes up feeling like shit.

Every inch of his body aches. Limbs feel as if they're made out of lead, heavy and bearing him down into the cushion he's only vaguely aware he's laying on top of. Every breath is conscious, a battle against the weight pressing down on his chest. It's a monumental amount of effort just for him to lift his head, trying to look in the direction of Michael's voice. The movement makes his stomach churn.

Gregory whines in lieu of a real response. It sounds pitiful.

Saying he feels like he was hit by a bus might be an understatement. And not horribly far from the truth of the matter, considering the last thing he remembers — the soft clack of something hitting the dirt behind them, both of them turning and just as quickly Michael pushing him towards the ground and covering him with his own body before the grenade exploded.

The memory momentarily makes Gregory panic ; with some hassle ( the movement almost frantic ), he rolls to face the other direction ( towards where he assumes Michael is ), where he sees a familiar head of dark hair sitting just in front of him.

"What ... happened?"

Voice is scratchy from disuse, and he's squinting against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Windows. He can barely see a flash of blue glancing at him in a mirror. The cushion underneath him. The soft rumble ringing in his ear, shaking his makeshift bed. This is a car .... how'd they get a car?

" ... where?"

They'd been so close — they shouldn't have needed a car. Gregory tries to sit up, rolling his knees up and under his torso, but a wave of nausea overtakes him and he presses his face into the seat with a groan instead. His mind is foggy, bits and pieces missing, faces of people talking to him but he just can't reach out and understand what they had been saying. He just remembers being scared.

....

.... not for himself. He'd been scared for Michael.

"The fireflies, they .... they were there."

( that's who had thrown the grenade. he remembers, the symbol on their uniform ).

"Where —— where're they? .... Where ar'we?"

He gives up on trying to sit up. Instead, flops back down onto the seat, lets himself roll into the corner. Stares at Michael as he drives, his own breathing heavy as he starts to fully come to.

" .... what'd'you mean a few days?"

tried another biblically accurate gregory

★ — Gregory feels like a fucking cornered animal — with nothing more to do than warily watch as William stalks around him ( a predator sizing up its prey, ready to strike at any moment, bigger and stronger and overwhelming ) with his back up against a wall and teeth practically bared, ready to snap should the man's path stray a little too close to Gregory. He rolls his eyes ; impertinence a shield in its own right.

"Michael didn't mention you. Ever. So, yeah. You could be lying t'me."

Response is sneered, his upper lip curling ever so slightly. Attempt at a blow to William's ego — the son he'd been chasing hadn't even bothered to mention him to the boy he was looking after. ( not that michael often talked about himself ). Gregory tries not to think about their resemblance, now that he knows the truth of their connection. That similarities between father and son had subconsciously put him at ease enough to trust William ... to get him into this mess in the first place.

A hand curls over the wrist of his shirt, pressing the fabric down against his skin, absent - mindlessly covering the healed wound. Elbows rest against the top of his knees. Trying to look nonchalant ( like he isn't scared ) despite the obvious tension in the way he's holding himself. He flinches as the jacket is tossed his way, caught off guard as the garment lands haphazardly across his form. Raises a brow in response — questioning, but not enough to argue back. The cold is biting, and after a quick moment of hesitation he pulls the coat around his shoulders completely unaware of it's origin.

"Jeez, thanks." ( sarcastic edge ). "You gonna tell me what you want now? Why you're even bothering with me?"

HAND TWITCHES AT HIS SIDE, A JERKY LITTLE MOVEMENT LIKE HE’S GOING TO SLAP THE KID. He won’t, of course, he won’t — he’s not a monster — but it’s a close call. Adjusts his glasses nonchalantly instead of reacting to the insult, smile lingering in the well-worn smug lines of his eyes and lips. There’s space between them, sure, but considering how hard William has been trying to close the distance for weeks now, tracking his son, tracking this brat…. Well, the gap between them now is child’s play. Literally. Fragile. Broken at any minute. He’ll indulge Gregory his space because really, really, he’s already got him exactly where he wants him.

The silence has lingered too long. William breaks it and his reverie with a short chuckle, a shorter exhale. Goes back to pacing up and down, eyeing Gregory from every angle. The kid clearly isn’t any sort of a threat, not to William, anyway. “If I’m really his dad,” he parrots, amused, “why, did you think he was lying to you? Or perhaps you think I think you’re worth lying to.” Like he’s not a means to an end. Although, the boy is roughly the same age as Evan would have, should have, been. The idea of reuniting his whole family is tempting. Given enough time, he’s certain he could convince Gregory to shelter under his wing. It’s worth considering, and William stores the idea in the back of his mind.

It’s Evan’s coat he tosses at Gregory now, old but well-kept, warm and cosy in the harsh winter. “I had food for you too, you know. But if you’re hungry, I suggest you stop insulting me.” And the smile is gone, icy frost dripping in his glacier features instead. As quick as it had disappeared, William shoots Gregory another amused grin. “And then we’ll have a little talk. Wrap up. It’s a cold winter, after all.”

★ — ( deep breath ). "Old!" ( there it is ).