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Post by John Bristow on Mar 15, 2010 20:01:21 GMT -5
"Is he going to press charges? Have they told you anything?"
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Post by László on Mar 16, 2010 2:04:35 GMT -5
"I don't think so. And really, it'd be useless trying to get money out of me, since I have next to none."
He shrugged.
"I'm not worried. I think it was just so the officer wouldn't get suspicious about him."
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 16, 2010 2:56:46 GMT -5
"Smart vampire" John growled before finally releasing his hands "I- have to get back to the shelter, I left Marie without where I was going, she's not a fan for me visiting here, she says it brings up my blood pressure." He looked down at Laszlo before growing very serious.
"If you need anything, anything at all, or if they mistreat you, hurt you in anyway, you call me and I'll be down here, you'll do that for me yes?"
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Post by László on Mar 16, 2010 16:51:40 GMT -5
"Oh--okay. I wouldn't want her to worry."
After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and pulled John into a hug.
"I promise, I'll call you. I wouldn't want you to worry, either."
He knew now the full value of a friend, and it had finally reached the point where it wasn't disconcerting at all to have someone that genuinely cared. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to fix his situation, if he had someone like John around. He didn't know how to say any of this, not without stuttering, so instead there was the hug.
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 16, 2010 22:02:58 GMT -5
He smiled and hugged him back, his strong arms, tight around Laszlo's waist "Thank you."
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Post by László on Mar 17, 2010 2:58:43 GMT -5
He held perhaps a bit longer than he'd intended, and a bit self-consciously let go.
"I'll...see you later?"
He didn't really know how the visitors thing worked around here.
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 17, 2010 4:07:38 GMT -5
"I'll be back everyday" he assured him "I promise you."
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Post by László on Mar 18, 2010 0:30:11 GMT -5
"You don't have to do it that much," he said with a small chuckle.
"You've got a lot of other people that need you, too."
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 19, 2010 1:48:08 GMT -5
"Fine then, every other day until you are free" he smiled.
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Post by László on Mar 19, 2010 14:19:02 GMT -5
There had been times when he thought that John was too nice to be real, but having associated with him for a while now, he really no longer thought that.
"As long as it doesn't interfere with anything...okay."
He could hardly refuse--it wasn't like there was anyone else coming to see him, and John's company was never unwelcome.
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 22, 2010 4:24:32 GMT -5
"Of course" leaning down he kissed Laszlo on the head "I'll see you tomorrow."
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Post by László on Mar 22, 2010 14:27:05 GMT -5
"See you tomorrow."
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Post by John Bristow on Mar 22, 2010 17:04:37 GMT -5
As John left the cell, he cringed as they closed the door, he didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to.
He knew what he was feeling at that moment, wasn't pity, or fear or anything like that. But a general sadness about not having Laszlo around and the pit in his stomach told him, it wasn't sadness for a friend or for a child.
It was something else, something he had all ready told himself shouldn't be there. Although it was getting harder and harder to suppress, and he hated himself for it.
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Post by László on Mar 23, 2010 2:46:09 GMT -5
((Awww.))
After John left, the silence that had been in the jail seemed even heavier than it had earlier, the atmosphere that much colder. He couldn't believe that he'd been able to get along as he had alone before, and as he leaned back against the wall he thought of how he could never be that way again.
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Post by Miles on Mar 23, 2010 10:00:45 GMT -5
It had been a while, although not as long as one might expect it to take John to get the money required, but after a while one of the officers came in to - rather indelicately - fetch László, saying that his bail had been posted and he was free to go, although he led him out rather roughly, the brusque forcefulness of his behavior clearly a judgment on the young man's profession - and on the relationship he inferred into, as if you have a shabby-looking prostitute and a pale and nervous and extremely fey Englishman biting a chipped blue-polished fingernail in the other room bailing him out, you're bound to assume something dodgy is going on.
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