I'm quoting bits that made me lunge through this like a Mountie on a hunt:
He chooses an older model Bronco because it's common, and because Diefenbaker finds the name whimsical
So canon. Perfecto.
The Stetson makes him stand out quite enough. He nearly left it behind, but he felt peculiar going hunting without it.
I love the combination of vulnerability and efficiency that you draw here. Fraser is so exceedingly competent, yet he needs his crutches like anyone else. For example: using Dief to get people's guard down... :)
Mamet feels weird riding in the back of the car. Usually the wolf rides in the back. Don't go there, buddy. Do not go there.
Oh, poor Ray.
Eddie still hasn't figured it out, and really, with that much blood on his clothes, he should catch a clue.
Yet, he's still in there, perfectly dry, cynical cop.
This whole deal he's in could very well be one huge clusterfuck, the tragic ass-end of an operation he never shoulda let himself get talked into.
Echoes of a parallel universe that we are aware of and Ray isn't. It's a heartbreaking and wonderful touch.
Thin, she said. Ray's always been very slender, but is she saying that he's lost weight, that he's… fading is the word that comes to mind, and Fraser rejects it, shoves it to the back of his head, into the dark.
Dief is woofing at him from the doorway. They need to move. Move now.
Fraser-as-narrator is compromised so wonderfully—he is in denial, somehow holding on to the idea the Ray he finds will somehow be the Ray he knows. But his true awareness makes him panicked for motion.
"I always figured, by the way he calls your name... That's a damn shame, Benton. An oversight on your part."
Rob is such a wonderful character. Sleek golden sleaze.
Rob continues smoothly, "You will let me strip you down, put my unsavory hands all over your lovely, naked skin, bend you over, and fuck your pretty ass as though you're nothing more than an expensive rent boy."
And Fraser would. Jesus.
The half wolf eyes him knowingly.
"All right, yes, I was sorely tempted to kick him in the head at one point.
I love it when Dief forces Fraser to be honest.
Now you are going to tell me what's going on, or my lupine companion here is going to have your balls for breakfast" ... Dief nudges Fraser's right hand, the one still curled into a fist.
Kick ASS, Fraser.
He nestles the muzzle of the Beretta against the soft under part of his jaw, back by his throat, and he pulls the trigger.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-12-27 10:18 pm (UTC)I'm quoting bits that made me lunge through this like a Mountie on a hunt:
He chooses an older model Bronco because it's common, and because Diefenbaker finds the name whimsical
So canon. Perfecto.
The Stetson makes him stand out quite enough. He nearly left it behind, but he felt peculiar going hunting without it.
I love the combination of vulnerability and efficiency that you draw here. Fraser is so exceedingly competent, yet he needs his crutches like anyone else. For example: using Dief to get people's guard down... :)
Mamet feels weird riding in the back of the car. Usually the wolf rides in the back. Don't go there, buddy. Do not go there.
Oh, poor Ray.
Eddie still hasn't figured it out, and really, with that much blood on his clothes, he should catch a clue.
Yet, he's still in there, perfectly dry, cynical cop.
This whole deal he's in could very well be one huge clusterfuck, the tragic ass-end of an operation he never shoulda let himself get talked into.
Echoes of a parallel universe that we are aware of and Ray isn't. It's a heartbreaking and wonderful touch.
Thin, she said. Ray's always been very slender, but is she saying that he's lost weight, that he's… fading is the word that comes to mind, and Fraser rejects it, shoves it to the back of his head, into the dark.
Dief is woofing at him from the doorway. They need to move. Move now.
Fraser-as-narrator is compromised so wonderfully—he is in denial, somehow holding on to the idea the Ray he finds will somehow be the Ray he knows. But his true awareness makes him panicked for motion.
"I always figured, by the way he calls your name... That's a damn shame, Benton. An oversight on your part."
Rob is such a wonderful character. Sleek golden sleaze.
Rob continues smoothly, "You will let me strip you down, put my unsavory hands all over your lovely, naked skin, bend you over, and fuck your pretty ass as though you're nothing more than an expensive rent boy."
And Fraser would. Jesus.
The half wolf eyes him knowingly.
"All right, yes, I was sorely tempted to kick him in the head at one point.
I love it when Dief forces Fraser to be honest.
Now you are going to tell me what's going on, or my lupine companion here is going to have your balls for breakfast" ... Dief nudges Fraser's right hand, the one still curled into a fist.
Kick ASS, Fraser.
He nestles the muzzle of the Beretta against the soft under part of his jaw, back by his throat, and he pulls the trigger.
Oh, you bitch.
*frantically clicking*