Cʜᴀʀʟᴇs 'C H U C K' Hᴀɴsᴇɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
suicidemission) wrote2013-08-15 03:15 pm
suicidemission) wrote2013-08-15 03:15 pm
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He’d told her nine and abruptly left, fleeing the situation like it was a hive of bees chasing after him. He’d promptly gone back to his room where he’d taken a cold shower, drank a gallon of water to free himself of the warm, lingering buzz that he’d obtained from either the alcohol or her presence (he couldn’t be sure what was truly the cause), then sat on his bed and vented at Max for several hours – Max, who very patiently sat there and listened to all of it.
He didn’t have a lot of input, though.
When Chuck had at least some of his sense back, he takes a proper shower and puts on clean clothes and finds an ancient bottle of cologne stuffed in the bottom drawer of his dresser that, on further inspection, expired about three years ago but still smells okay, and shoves what he’d had on and his previous, soaking wet set into the laundry chute.
He kills more time by walking Max through the ‘Dome and ignores most people that talk to him, allowing only Miss Mori to pet his dogs head before he swings by his old mans room, pawns the animal off on him with barely a word (save for insistent pestering as to her name - Rhoda, it suited her), then doubles back to her room where he raps on the metal twice and waits, hands behind his back, face affixed with the usual, surly look he was so often seen with.
He didn’t have a lot of input, though.
When Chuck had at least some of his sense back, he takes a proper shower and puts on clean clothes and finds an ancient bottle of cologne stuffed in the bottom drawer of his dresser that, on further inspection, expired about three years ago but still smells okay, and shoves what he’d had on and his previous, soaking wet set into the laundry chute.
He kills more time by walking Max through the ‘Dome and ignores most people that talk to him, allowing only Miss Mori to pet his dogs head before he swings by his old mans room, pawns the animal off on him with barely a word (save for insistent pestering as to her name - Rhoda, it suited her), then doubles back to her room where he raps on the metal twice and waits, hands behind his back, face affixed with the usual, surly look he was so often seen with.
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"Maybe he knows you like me," she teases, jostling his shoulder with hers.
Honestly, she's not sure if he's talking out his ass about this, it wouldn't surprise her. But whatever, she doesn't mind. This is still mind-blowingly cool.
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"He absolutely does," Chuck verifies, patting the harness fondly. "Sees everything, doesn't he? Remember, two way street. Pilot to pilow, pilot to Jaeger." He smirks a little, then settles back down.
"Sounds daft, yeah? Hard to explain to someone who's never Drifted."
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"It's not daft at all."
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"Glad you agree."
Makes it easier, at any rate.
He's picking up his dinner and going at it again, content to eat a bit in silence.
"Thanks for humoring me, by the way."