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Post by sunny on Mar 26, 2013 23:16:23 GMT -5
She did not much appreciate winter, she didn't like the snow piling up and making it difficult for her to get where she was going, nor did she like the cold temperatures that caused her to shiver into her coat. In fact she wished that spring would come already. She'd gone to see her grand-father, who she continually teased for never coming to see her, and was now on her way home. She hoped Rudy had started making something, she was hungry and eager to get into the warmth that was her home. She wanted a hot shower, a hot meal, and warm clothes. She had entertained the idea of asking her grand-father to go to La Reve with her for dinner, but he apparently had other plans and while she was sure he'd cancel them for her, she wasn't going to intrude on his business.
Not when she had a very attractive male at home that cooked fantastic meals, not to mention very delicious variety of chocolate things. She swore Rudy was going to get her fat one of these days. His cooking skills had been a bonus when she had first picked him up from the Citadel. She hadn't even planned on taking anyone home with her when she was there, but she'd taken an immediate pleasure in the irritation that Rudy caused Anthony Scott, and had decided instead of letting Anthony relieve his irritation that was Rudy, she'd scoop him up and take him home. Rub it in Anthony's face. It had started out as her simply wanted to piss Anthony off, because it was amusing. Now she had just grown to dislike the man. She didn't really put any stock in the fact that the more she got to know Rudy, the more she was around him, the more she disliked Anthony.
Regardless, the point was, she had an attractive male at home that cooked her food (And had a fantastic chest if she did say so herself) and someone to irritate the hell out of. She had a successful business that she adored and she had family that she loved. Well she loved most of her family, her Aunt and his husband, their daughter, her grand-father. It was enough, all she needed really. Emerson didn't much care if she came across as a haughty bitch because of her last name, because she was a spoiled rotten Remington bitch. She had been born into the position of money and power, she was more than eager to use that to her advantage. Of course she was not the only Remington eager to use their power and money to boost their spot in society. But Emerson was the only Remington that had the head of the family wrapped around her little finger.
Anything she asked for, her grand-father would jump to get her. She didn't always like to resort to that, she was independent enough that she enjoyed getting the things she wanted and desired herself. But when there were things that she couldn't get herself, with her own money or her own name, she resorted to going to Grand-Daddy. Because he had a knack at getting whatever he wanted, and the fact that their family funded a lot of what the Sector is now certainly had enough sway with certain people higher up. Emerson was very much okay with being a spoiled bitch, it got her places, got her the things she wanted. She most certainly liked getting her way, getting the things she wanted. And she was bound and determined not to let anyone stand in the way of her wants and desires. Tag: Anthony Words: 607 Notes: LET THE ROCK THROWING COMMENCE << |
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Post by Anthony William Scott on Apr 10, 2013 7:57:28 GMT -5
Sometimes the only thing he wanted was a little bit of peace and quiet, something that wasn’t really feasible in his office with trainees buzzing about and his other staff trying to get everything set straight for the day. No, there was no peace here, nothing that could keep him calm. He’d already snapped at a pair of upper level trainees, probably giving them a bit more of a what for than they deserved. He had been impressed, however, when the man ran off crying and the young woman held her ground and took it. He was rather unhappy with the quality that was coming out of his training program. Why, just the other day one of his trainees had managed to catch himself on fire. He was going to have to have a talk with the trainer. But that could and would wait for another day. For now, the day was at an end and he would be returning once again to a house that was sometimes too quiet, sometimes too still but for his breathing and the breathing of the dogs. It was one that could do with much brightening.
There was an inherent lack of something in that house, he mused as he locked the office door behind him and set off for the residential district. It was missing something that the house in San Francisco hadn’t been. What it was, well, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but there was something not there. Maybe it was the shrieks of children running through the house. Even Daryll, stoic that he was, shrieked as a child. They all had, running through the halls and chasing dogs or pulling pant legs and skirts. It had been the family’s own little castle, their own little place, and in it’s way, their calm within the storm when the world started falling apart. And apart it had fallen. He didn’t even rightly know if the house still stood, let alone if it was still the way it had been left when he’d left to join the ranks for yet another war and yet another cause that he wasn’t entirely too sure about. But that was the nature of boredom, it drove him into things that he never believed that he would be doing, or at least doing again.
He briefly went into his home, leashing his hounds before heading right back out again. It was tradition, he came home, they went for a walk. Well, less tradition and more habit. It was the kind of habit that, if broken, could drive a dog mildly mad from confusion and so he stuck by it. Blessedly, all of his dogs had the sense to understand the rhythm of the day and the morning, lunch, and nighttime walks that they got when they were left home. Most days, they were prowling around his department, tricking youngsters into giving them tidbits of food and attention. For the big scary tracking machines that they could be, they were gaining quite a bit of chuff from harassing new recruits and old softies. But today, for some reason or another, he’d needed to leave them home. It hadn’t been quite the same without them there, but sometimes it was necessary to have at least a few sheets of paper that weren’t stained with dog drool in his office. And so, this was their reward.
The dogs strained against their leashes, baying loudly as they headed into the park where they knew that he would let them run in the snow. There were only so many things that he could do with them when they were like this (read: more stubborn than usual). Maybe it was the snow under their feet or maybe it was the fact that they had been cooped up all day in the apartment, trying very hard not to break anything (or so he hoped). He stopped for a moment to let them go free. He watched as they bounded off into the snow. They wouldn’t be out here long, the dogs weren’t made for cold weather, and so he was going to head back in as soon as they got the energy out of their system. That, in the end, was the whole point.
Not everything goes according to plan, however, and so when Sarge got the inkling to go bother the other person in the park, well, Anthony wasn’t precisely able to stop him. The dog was well behaved enough, but not everyone was a fan of a flying ball of fur and drool coming at them full force, and that was precisely what Sarge was. Meanwhile Garth and Louisa were doing whatever they wanted, traipsing through the snow, tails out of the snow. He shook his head and headed over to hopefully deal with whatever chaos his dog was insistent on creating at the moment. “Sorry about him, he’s a bit of a young fool,” he said as he walked up. He didn’t really take the time to look at the person that he was talking with as he grabbed Sarge by the collar and snapped on the leash. There, that was better, he wouldn’t be causing trouble anymore. The dog turned on the puppy dog eyes, a clear sign that there might soon be a sonic whine. Well, that would be dealt with when it came about.
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notes: blargh, he's all rambly
words: 897
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