Scott Winters. Keep It Classy.
My counterparts found: Here
Reblogged from devil-in-white
It had been months since Caleb had last seen London, having had to make a run for it when certain previous employers of his didn’t take too kindly to him working for somebody else entirely now. They had pursued him, and he had run, run far far away because even though he wasn’t much of a threat to them personally, he did know things that would be able to bring down those employers with only a little push. And they wanted him dead for that.
Or captured. Which they had managed, up in Scottland, where there really wasn’t anywhere to hide properly. He had eventually been able to flee through a stroke of luck, a window left open — and even if he wasn’t a great fighter, he was, at the very least, lean and agile and quite good at climbing — but the few weeks in captivity had taken their toll on him, and it took him a while to get back to England.
So much to do back in London. So much. He had to find a place to hide, find out which of his acquaintances would still back him with at least two medical companies on his trail, get a gun, yes, a gun was good—
A phonecall, first. See what mood his boss — the one he had abandoned, and that was most certainly not going to go over well — was in, then decide what to do from there.
He took out his phone slowly, carefully, then dialled Scott’s number and raised the phone to his ear. His hand shook slightly; he ignored it.
Scott sat quietly in his home, a book resting in his lap. He had been watching the days since moving from his old home hours from London into the city roll by. He was wasting what was left of his life, because there was no way he was going back into the absolutely exhausting line of work that what criminal activity. And then his phone rang. He glanced up at it, frowning as he reached over and picked it up. Caleb. Hmm.
He touched the screen to answer the call, setting his book aside. “Hello Doctor.” He spoke calmly, plainly even. “Are you well?”
Reblogged from harlecchino
Alaric stood infront of the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, not sure whether he should knock or not. This was the address Scott had given to him, the address that marked his new flat in London. It had been a while since he’d last seen the man he still considered his boss even though he was not sure the other would even still want him as an employee. He’d missed him, yes, a feeling that was quite unnatural to the gunman and yet he couldn’t deny that he’d spent a lot of his time wondering and worrying about Scott while he was away. Still, he wasn’t sure whether or not this meeting was a good thing because he didn’t know what to expect. It was good to see him, good to see that he was - hopefully - unharmed and well but Alaric wondered if he even really wanted to see him, wondered how he would be greeted. He’d failed his job, had let the other down or at least that’s how it seemed to him and he surely just could not forgive himself for that, for breaking the promise of always being there because he hadn’t been. So he had mixed feelings when he finally lift up his fist and gave the door infront of him a faint knock.
Te comfort of the chair was hard for Scott to consider leaving, even with the knock at the door. His mind drew the possibilities in his mind. It could be Jim interested in settling their score. It could be Sebastian dropping in on him or perhaps, just maybe it could be Alaric. He stood from his place in the chair, shuffling toward the door. He stared at it for a moment, wondering what might happen if it was Jim. Then again, he couldn’t go living his life considering what might happen if Jim appeared. After all he was just a twisted as he was. He unlatched the door and pulled it open, a genuine smile appearing on his face as the figure on the other side cam into view.
"Alaric." He moved to let the other man inside. "It is very, very good to see you."
I’m planning to re-open this blog as a side account for fun, but Scotty’s going into retirement Most of my buddies have vanished, but if there’s anyone out there that still wants to role-play, please feel free to contact me. Scott will be making moves from time to time.
Dust. Everywhere. He hated dust. He let out a grumble as he pushed the front door to his rather sizeable house open. He did not bother to turn the lights on, he knew the layout of the house perfectly, despite his months away. He dropped his bad on the ground, walking toward the kitchen and flicking the lights on. The cook had cleaned well before leaving on his extended vacation. The house keeper had also done her job. She would have to be called in to fix things up. Scott Winters was finally back.
He collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. It was clear that Alaric had not been home either, but then Scott had left without a word, he assumed of course that Alaric would not return. He understood. He had been more than undesirable as a partner and over the two months he had spent recovering what he could of himself as well as battling the medical complications that had been caused by his Ex, he had come to terms with it. True, the two men did text back and forth while he was away, but he had expected when he returned to find Alaric packed and gone. No one wanted to wait around two, almost three months for someone to returm and it was hardly fair to expect them to.
Still, Scott could feel something akin to sadness settling in his chest. He rested his head on his hand, leaning on the table as he tired to think of what he should do now. He had not heard from Caleb in far to long, nor Lain, nor Katya or Francis. The Queen Of Masks was long gone as well. He was, in effect, on his own. His family was gone and he was back to square one. With no desire left to battle Jim or Sherlock in their petty little game he was left at a divide. Yes, he could continue his own criminal activity, but then, he could also just bloody retire. He mused over this as he stood again, wandering toward the sitting room where he threw himself into his chair somewhat dramaticly.
What was a poor insane man to do now?
Reblogged from harlecchino
“Thank you.” was all he said before he let out a relieved sigh and waited a few moments before he slowly let go of Scott again to get up. He hadn’t had much experience when it came to fever but he knew that he had to reduce it somehow so he he quickly went to the bathroom and fetched some towels which he drained with cold water before he got back to Scott. He wrapped 2 of the towels around his calves, thinking that he’d read somewhere somewhen that this was supposed to lower the temperature of someone. Once he’d done that he seated himself beside Scott again and took the 3rd, smaller towel he had and carefully began to wipe away the sweat on the other#s face with it before he left the cold towel on his burning forehead.
Scott shivered again under the touch of the cloth. He blinked his eyes open to look at Alaric, flinching at the sight of Aaron over him instead of Alaric. He jumped, nearly knocking back the towels. “N-No.. not. not you…” He hissed. “You did this…” He hated how scared he was.
Reblogged from harlecchino
Alaric slowly got them both out from under the bed before he stood up and leaned down to Scott again, carefully picking him up and placing him ontop of his bed, pulling the covers aside. He seated himself next to him for a moment, knowing that he had to reassure him a bit more before he could leave to get whatever would help for the fever. He drew him close again, gently running a finger through his sweaty hair, trying his best not to flinch back at the temperature of his forehead. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, capo. I’m here now. They can’t hurt you, no one can. I will protect you. Just..close your eyes, try to fight it. Close your eyes and rest, sir..” he spoke quietely
Scott did as he was told, the sickness taking a better hold on him than he would have liked. Aaron had done this too him, and he was so tired. His body felt like it must have been freezing, but he knew he was hot to the touch. This was an awful situation.
"I trust you… I’ll try, and sleep…"