hadriel { ic inbox }

[nonscriptum]

This is Nate, you know what to do. I'll...probably get back to you.

Comments

[seekingmyfortune]

white leather journal, dated circa 1980's, has the initials C.M. engraved on the front.


pretty sure it's worth a lot.

[nonscriptum]

[That's mom's work. That's supposed to be in his attic, in a cardboard box, with the Saint Dismas cross they finagled out of Panama when he was still in a stupor after the loss of...the very person who has the book now.]

holy crap

[In the dark he tries to fumble for his jeans.]

where are you?

[seekingmyfortune]

my place

get a six pack on your way over

[He’s joooking. Sort of. They probably don’t even have the type of beer he likes.]

[nonscriptum]

sheesh, you're picky

be there soon

[The best he can do is a bottle of liquor - half full, but better than nothing - before sleepily tugging some jeans and a t-shirt on and pressing a kiss to Elena's temple. Nate taps out a note on her phone: at sam's. be back soon.

It doesn't take him long to get there; Sam only put enough space between them to "you know, avoid the sex noises," to which Nate had rolled his eyes. Leaning against the jamb in the hall he raps on the door with the bottle.]

It's me.