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Michael Pierson
Mon Feb 20, 2006 11:51

His neck hurt.

The sort of pain normally associated with sleeping upside down in a VW Bug; except that Michael had caught bits of sleep here and there by stretching out across a couple of chairs in the ER waiting room, taking turns on the night watch with his father. Each of them had trudged home briefly to shower and change - throats convulsing every time the phone rang.

It had been his lot to step out of the shower just as the doorbell rang, a parade of boxes hauled in by bellhops. Most of them bore his name and a bill signed by his sister. Each made him want to sit down and howl. She'd spent so much on him that the actor felt keenly how badly she must have missed him. Well, Nature had propelled him home just in time to play protector, nevermind what that neaderthal partner of hers though. Michael had the senior claim on Sonnet's affections, and anyone who threatened that would be summarily disposed of. By any means necessary.

Idly toweling what remained of his hair dry, Michael tossed on clean pants and a shirt, old items that had been stored at Hugh's for several years; he was quite pleased to note that they still fit, even if the jeans were a little tight. Socks and sneakers followed, every article of clothing was either black or gray. Not only did the color flatter, but the man wasn't in the best of moods anyway. It suited him just fine to look like a thug.

Nor did his disposition improve when he returned to the hospital. His stepfather had rounded up most of the family for a luncheon at Isabel's behest. Michael apparently wasn't invited, as his duty fell to watching aforementioned little sister. Perhaps as a sort of mollification, Hugh pressed a fast foot bag into his hands, filled with appropriately unnutricious food. Ugh. Nevertheless, he held his tongue and resolved to suffer through the afternoon by himself. It was in this mood that he stepped into the ICU wing with.

And saw Isabel with a strange man, the expression on her face so grateful that he wanted to rush up and separate them. Who the hell was this? Annoyance at bad food forgotten, the earthquake survivor (only a few days prior, too!) quickened his pace and all but skidded to a stop in front of Isabel and Vittorio, who had been the recipient of the woman's tears and thanks. And an invitation to lunch or dinner when Sonnet had recovered enough to leave.

"Isabel," Voice raw with worry, suspicion underlaying it with a rough edge, "... they're waiting in the lobby for you." Without so much as a by-your-leave, Michael gently eased Sonnet's mother away from the stranger and gestured for a nurse to escort the distraught woman to the rest of her family, such as it was. Only then did he grace Vittorio with full attention. Foreigner. Tailored suit, expensive shoes, his bearing just smacked of 'holier than thou'. And since Michael was in no mood to be conciliatory, he stepped around the Italian and sank into the chair next to the cot.

'What do you want."

It was more of a demand than a query.

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    • Questions. — Michael Pierson, Mon Feb 20 11:51
      • Answers.Vittorio Castelluccio, Mon Feb 20 17:24
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            • Male BravadoBennett | Vittorio, Tue Feb 21 22:51
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              • Surprise?Devon | Caleb, Tue Feb 21 23:39
                God, he really was tired . Devon glanced from Sonnet’s prone form, to Michael seated across the way. The younger man had been casting him dirty glances throughout the morning, and then after... more
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