Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-02-01 01:41 pm
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thearena2014-02-01 01:41 pm
Entry tags:
It's Just Sleight of Hand [Closed]
WHO| Howard and Sherlock, then Howard and Wyatt
WHAT| Sherlock and Howard meet again, Sherlock takes revenge for Joan.
WHEN| Week 3
WHERE| Parking lot in the basement.
WARNINGS| Cruelty, injury, medical treatment.
While Wyatt's out getting supplies, Howard stays in the car. It's a nice-sized SUV, big enough for the two of them to sleep in, with tinted windows that are nearly impenetrable when combined with the low light of the parking lot. For the last few days, it's been a reasonable way to bide the hours, waiting for the intercom announcements that don't seem terribly common.
Seven dead, so far. The voice in Howard's head says only seven. With the Arena off to a slow start, he's sure that the Gamemakers will start doing their best to speed things along. He goes through a mental list - taxidermied animals, the volcano, the tar pit, the roof, the wax figures - trying to figure out what's likely to go next.
And he's exhausted, so after chasing his tail on that for a while, he falls asleep, curled into a ball underneath a dark 'Starfleet' blanket, feeling secure in his hiding location. He breathes deep and only whimpers a little as he rests, skimming the surface of nightmares but never dunking himself in. His fingers twitch in pursuit of some imagined thing to grab.
WHAT| Sherlock and Howard meet again, Sherlock takes revenge for Joan.
WHEN| Week 3
WHERE| Parking lot in the basement.
WARNINGS| Cruelty, injury, medical treatment.
While Wyatt's out getting supplies, Howard stays in the car. It's a nice-sized SUV, big enough for the two of them to sleep in, with tinted windows that are nearly impenetrable when combined with the low light of the parking lot. For the last few days, it's been a reasonable way to bide the hours, waiting for the intercom announcements that don't seem terribly common.
Seven dead, so far. The voice in Howard's head says only seven. With the Arena off to a slow start, he's sure that the Gamemakers will start doing their best to speed things along. He goes through a mental list - taxidermied animals, the volcano, the tar pit, the roof, the wax figures - trying to figure out what's likely to go next.
And he's exhausted, so after chasing his tail on that for a while, he falls asleep, curled into a ball underneath a dark 'Starfleet' blanket, feeling secure in his hiding location. He breathes deep and only whimpers a little as he rests, skimming the surface of nightmares but never dunking himself in. His fingers twitch in pursuit of some imagined thing to grab.