Cathryn (formerly catslash) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
remindmeofthe) wrote2008-03-11 01:38 am
remindmeofthe) wrote2008-03-11 01:38 am
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Apparently, instead of tackling unfinished fic, or any of the three given papers I have due next week (all for the same class, what the fuck), my brain wishes to produce drabbles.
Another Torchwood bit. Again, not inherently spoilery, but confusing if you're not up-to-date. Gen, G.
Owen's taken to walking home on late nights. He won't tire and he certainly has the extra time to spare. Even for him, it's not particularly safe, out alone so late, but he doesn't much care.
A man falls into step next to him one night and says his name. When Owen looks over, wary, the man smiles.
"Well, aren't you just something."
Owen stops. It sounds like a clumsy flirt, but -
- but their eyes meet, and his are sharp, and in the distance Owen can hear the pounding of drums.
I'm going to have to pick up a drabble challenge or something if this keeps up. At least give it some sort of organization.
Another Torchwood bit. Again, not inherently spoilery, but confusing if you're not up-to-date. Gen, G.
Owen's taken to walking home on late nights. He won't tire and he certainly has the extra time to spare. Even for him, it's not particularly safe, out alone so late, but he doesn't much care.
A man falls into step next to him one night and says his name. When Owen looks over, wary, the man smiles.
"Well, aren't you just something."
Owen stops. It sounds like a clumsy flirt, but -
- but their eyes meet, and his are sharp, and in the distance Owen can hear the pounding of drums.
I'm going to have to pick up a drabble challenge or something if this keeps up. At least give it some sort of organization.