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Apr. 11th, 2002 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
petroniaNicked structure off Cat's recent jrock fics, because she said it was easy and quick. She was right. *g*
Edit -- this makes no sense. Just like the canon doesn't.
(gravitation vignette one: summer movie)
They met under unusual circumstances. It was the summer of the "World's End II" shoot: Judy was due on location near Sukhothai, which would normally have been great fun, but ever since the piddling counterterrorism incident off Phuket K had been persona non gratis with the Thai authorities. The production didn't want trouble. For one thing, it was by no means common knowledge that Judy Winchester had her stage name by marriage. It was amazing how staring down the barrel of a semi-automatic could put the fear of God into the tabloid media.
They talked around the Phuket incident. The part involving amphibious rocket launchers was rather embarrassing.
"They can't stop me," he said. "I'd like to see them try."
"Now, Crawd," she said firmly, "be good," and kissed him. She smelled like sandalwood and vanilla, already in character. K moped for fifteen minutes, shot out a couple of tires on Mulholland with an old Remington PSS and took a job in New York. Marriage, he'd known from the start, was predicated entirely on their ability to have fun away from each other.
The job was a disaster. No fault of his own: issues always arose when large shady organisations owed other large shady organisations money.
The nadir of it came when he woke up tied to a lawn chair in a room without windows. He opened his eyes and saw pink rabbits. Closed his eyes, counted to five, opened them again and saw one pink rabbit. Decided that marked an improvement and kept them open.
"Are you okay?" the rabbit asked. K closed his eyes again and groaned. "I'd get you some water," the voice continued anxiously, "but the door won't open. I don't think the people here are very nice."
The rabbit had an attractively lilting Japanese accent. K made a concerted effort and forced his gaze to wander downward. Rumpled brown hair, blue eyes as limpid and naive as twin alpine lakes: the sort that came printed on the sides of Swiss chocolate bars. Not a day over sixteen, he thought. Then his eyes focussed.
Overturned lawn chair. Rope discarded on the floor.
"You got loose?" he managed. The boy nodded. Spoke around a mouthful of pink velveteen ear:
"They didn't tie the knots very well."
K tested the bindings on his wrists. Gazed up thoughtfully at the ceiling (which was comprised of the sort of plaster tile that lifted easily to give access to the crawl space between floors). Realised that his concussion headache was diminishing rapidly to manageability.
Grinned the sort of grin that small river fishes knew to stay clear of.
Twenty-seven minutes later he was still grinning, even as sirens wailed and he gunned the helicopter engine for a frantic vertical takeoff. The kid riding shotgun and yelling biographical details into his ear. His name! Was! Ryuuichi! And he sang! In! A band! There was more as K jammed on a headset, leant out so far to throw off the last mooring that his hair whipped wildly in the updraft from the blades. A hiatus, a new friend, a promised single to be cut in America. (Names were named, some of which meant 'iffy showbiz venture backed by dirty funds'. As of seventy-two hours ago they also meant 'Hudson river silt', so the point was moot. All in a week's work.) How he liked plane rides. How Kumagorou - Kumagorou? - liked the view from on top the Statue of Liberty. Was that rocket on the roof pointed at them?
"What?" said K, and had to swing the tail of the helicopter around to avoid sideswiping a nearing office highrise. "Oh, damn. Uh, could you--"
"I'll fly it," the kid said. "You need both hands, right?" And K was staring around into eyes that weren't limpid or naive at all, eyes as blue as the sea five thousand feet below before your parachute opened. They gave him the same little thump behind his ribcage that he'd had the first time he saw Judy in front of a camera: the one that said special.
He had a knack for seeing it before everyone else.
Edit -- this makes no sense. Just like the canon doesn't.
(gravitation vignette one: summer movie)
They met under unusual circumstances. It was the summer of the "World's End II" shoot: Judy was due on location near Sukhothai, which would normally have been great fun, but ever since the piddling counterterrorism incident off Phuket K had been persona non gratis with the Thai authorities. The production didn't want trouble. For one thing, it was by no means common knowledge that Judy Winchester had her stage name by marriage. It was amazing how staring down the barrel of a semi-automatic could put the fear of God into the tabloid media.
They talked around the Phuket incident. The part involving amphibious rocket launchers was rather embarrassing.
"They can't stop me," he said. "I'd like to see them try."
"Now, Crawd," she said firmly, "be good," and kissed him. She smelled like sandalwood and vanilla, already in character. K moped for fifteen minutes, shot out a couple of tires on Mulholland with an old Remington PSS and took a job in New York. Marriage, he'd known from the start, was predicated entirely on their ability to have fun away from each other.
The job was a disaster. No fault of his own: issues always arose when large shady organisations owed other large shady organisations money.
The nadir of it came when he woke up tied to a lawn chair in a room without windows. He opened his eyes and saw pink rabbits. Closed his eyes, counted to five, opened them again and saw one pink rabbit. Decided that marked an improvement and kept them open.
"Are you okay?" the rabbit asked. K closed his eyes again and groaned. "I'd get you some water," the voice continued anxiously, "but the door won't open. I don't think the people here are very nice."
The rabbit had an attractively lilting Japanese accent. K made a concerted effort and forced his gaze to wander downward. Rumpled brown hair, blue eyes as limpid and naive as twin alpine lakes: the sort that came printed on the sides of Swiss chocolate bars. Not a day over sixteen, he thought. Then his eyes focussed.
Overturned lawn chair. Rope discarded on the floor.
"You got loose?" he managed. The boy nodded. Spoke around a mouthful of pink velveteen ear:
"They didn't tie the knots very well."
K tested the bindings on his wrists. Gazed up thoughtfully at the ceiling (which was comprised of the sort of plaster tile that lifted easily to give access to the crawl space between floors). Realised that his concussion headache was diminishing rapidly to manageability.
Grinned the sort of grin that small river fishes knew to stay clear of.
Twenty-seven minutes later he was still grinning, even as sirens wailed and he gunned the helicopter engine for a frantic vertical takeoff. The kid riding shotgun and yelling biographical details into his ear. His name! Was! Ryuuichi! And he sang! In! A band! There was more as K jammed on a headset, leant out so far to throw off the last mooring that his hair whipped wildly in the updraft from the blades. A hiatus, a new friend, a promised single to be cut in America. (Names were named, some of which meant 'iffy showbiz venture backed by dirty funds'. As of seventy-two hours ago they also meant 'Hudson river silt', so the point was moot. All in a week's work.) How he liked plane rides. How Kumagorou - Kumagorou? - liked the view from on top the Statue of Liberty. Was that rocket on the roof pointed at them?
"What?" said K, and had to swing the tail of the helicopter around to avoid sideswiping a nearing office highrise. "Oh, damn. Uh, could you--"
"I'll fly it," the kid said. "You need both hands, right?" And K was staring around into eyes that weren't limpid or naive at all, eyes as blue as the sea five thousand feet below before your parachute opened. They gave him the same little thump behind his ribcage that he'd had the first time he saw Judy in front of a camera: the one that said special.
He had a knack for seeing it before everyone else.
Fanmail
Date: 2002-04-26 05:24 am (UTC)Re: Fanmail
Date: 2002-04-29 10:16 pm (UTC)