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Vanilla ch. 16Vanilla
"Isn't he beautiful when he's upset?"
"You're fuckin' sick! You know that?!"
"So I've been told... You know... You're a quick little bunny... But... I'm quicker..."
"O-oh, God.... P-please, man! All those jokes I cracked... They're just for fun... P-please don't... N-no!"
Dieter sat in Gerald's room, scribbling away at the note pad. He was casually doodling a stick person, frowning at his own lack of artistic ability. He jumped, nearly out of his skin, when he heard the door unlock, then open. He sighed when the BLU Spy walked in, mask in his hands.
"Did I scare you, Dieter? I'm sorry! It's late... Why are you still awake?'
"I vas drawing! Or.... Trying to draw...." The man frowned, looking at the stick figure he drew. He ripped it out, crumbling it up and throwing it onto the floor. There, it joined many other pieces of paper, all bearing the RED Team logo, and containing other failed attempts at art.
Gerald laughed, bending down and picking up one of the balls an
TF2: DefectEasing the door to the infirmary open, Heavy grinned, and set down the tray he held carefully, before sighing. Maybe he'd given Medic too much of his own sedative. He slipped a hand over Medic's cheek, and blinked when Medic's own eyes opened.
"I was wondering vhen you would return." Medic's voice was soft and strained. "I would like to be untied, bitte."
Heavy sighed. "I cannot, Doktor." He moved a stool to sit next to Medic's makeshift bed, and retrieved a bowl and spoon. "I feel bad. Honest." He carefully spooned a small amount of the oatmeal he'd made up, and let it hover next to Medic's mouth. He wasn't going to forcefeed the man, if he didn't want to eat. Medic's lips parted, and he stared up at Heavy, before opening his mouth wider. Heavy grinned, and placed the spoon inside his mouth. Medic swallowed, and the spoon was removed.
Heavy settled properly on the stool, grinning as he prepared another spoonful of oatmeal. Progress.
Medic swallowed again, and licked his lips as Heavy
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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