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Attention Starved

The name is Sydney, but please stick to Syd. I'm currently the ripe age of eighteen. I will never be one to disappoint.

derrick-pascal:

[Roll call was relatively uneventful, if a bit irritating because the nurses get kind of bitchy when they’re under the pressure of a ‘hospital emergency’. Derrick honestly thinks that’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering a storm is just a storm, but there’re people insisting that it may be the worse this side of England’s seen in many years. He’s not convinced, but it’s mostly just that he can’t be bothered worrying about it for the time being. As far as he’s concerned, he’s stuck here anyway, so it makes very little difference.

As soon as he’s permitted to leave his room, however, he putters over to Syd’s room and peeks in with a grin.]

Hey love, [he starts softly, sweeping inside to step around behind Syd’s back where the teen is fiddling with a few sheets of paper, sketches and art work, from what Derrick can tell. The rooms are all pretty dark in the dim and tinted auxiliary lighting, but it’s enough to light Syd’s beautiful face and make it all the more stunning in the odd shadows.

Kissing him on the shoulder lightly, Derrick smiles as his lips gently find the young man’s neck. His fingers thread through the backs of Syd’s, his palm cupping Sydney’s from the back of his hand, knuckles to palm.] I was thinking… since you’re such a fan of the cold, figured you’d probably be into this whole stormy weather stuff too, hmm? Fancy a walk outside? Before we can’t anymore, that is.

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-Syd was enjoying this weather: the way the clouds harbored over the island, creating a wind that swept up the fallen leaves and bits of dirt. He was watching from his window, his room a mess due to lack of concern towards cleaning it. Papers strewn and the bed undone because at first he debated upon taking a nap. Now he preferred to watch for the rain to make its starting drop -

-He’s not expecting anyone in particular, but as the door opens and a voice slithers along his ear, he smiles. Soon feeling lips upon his neck and his hands clasped together-

I could go for a walk, ya’. I love this bloody fucking weather. Can’t wait til it rains though. This is pussy shite right now.

What The Bloody Hell Is This? 

dr-callum-wesley:

sydney—christian:

Have you ever actually tasted the bottom of your shoe, hot shot?

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Not intentionally, Doc.

# talk: wes 

What The Bloody Hell Is This? 

First we can’t shag in public. Then we ‘ave ta’ eat food that tastes like shite from the bottom of my shoe. And now, we can’t even have decent lighting. I’m all for a kinky atmosphere ta’ set the scene, but really mate?

frankie—miller:

sydney—christian:

Oh, fuck… What an asshole. Though, he might’a thought it was alright to do, since you’d done it first… still, that’s a douchebag move.

Uh, nope. I wasn’t really old enough back home, and I only ever really drank a couple o’ times, I wouldn’t do it again. Y’all can get shit faced, I’ll just make sure ya get home in one piece, darlin’. [Frankie chuckles; he’s so happy to talk to Syd again, he’s effectively distracted from the negativity that had been clouding his mind earlier.] Yeah? Well, now I feel deprived, I ain’t heard ya sing before. [He pouts, his bottom lip sticking out a little, turning the puppy dog eyes on Syd. He doubts he will sing, and he can only hold the expression for a minute before chuckling.]

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Probably the worse move ya’ could make, but I was desperate and he was an arsehole. I think he deserved it.

Ah so ya’ can be the driver that makes sure we get home in one piece. Look at ya’ being all protective. But that sounds like a fair deal considering I got pretty shit faced when I was actually able ta’ go ta’ a pub. -Syd clears his throat, a smile toying with the edges of his lips because he’s been told on numerous occasions that his voice was bloody awful. Frankie however was new to this and using his innocence to his advantage, Syd let out a note, one that was a long wail and sounded like a cat screeching in an alleyway.-

frankie—miller:

sydney—christian:

Wait, why would ya get kicked? That sounds fuckin’ painful, too… maybe just say it quietly, then ya won’t get kicked. Hopefully.

Well, I ain’t much of a drinker, and, I ain’t ever been to a pub or bar or whatever, but hey the idea sure sounds pretty nice. I guess it’s for just, hangin’ out, right? I only really hung out with people when I was smokin’. People are pretty chilled out when they’re havin’ a smoke, it’s a whole lot easier to hang out when they’re all so focused on the cig and chattin’. Though I ain’t smoked in a long time now, so, what else do people even do to hang out? I heard show tunes are pretty unacceptable.

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Remember that bloke I fought a few weeks ago? He got me in the bollocks, thought I did it first, but I was only defending myself.

Ya’ ‘aven’t been ta’ a pub? Ya’ need ta’ go. The moment we’re outta here, me and ya’ are going ta’ a pub and getting shit faced. Okay, that’s probably not good ta’ do after getting released from a looney bin, but fuck it, it sure beats show tunes. Though karaoke is ace. I’m an amazing singer — can woe girls by just holding a note.

frankie—miller:

sydney—christian:

True, it’s pretty hard t’have fun here, but I s’pose that’s the same wherever ya go. Anywhere can be hard ta have fun. Ava… yeah, I think I met her, once or twice… I didn’t really look at her, uh, front, but I’ll take ya word for it.

I will do, it’s been too long since I’ve seen y’all. But hey, we’re both here now.

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My words is excellent when it comes ta’ a rack, trust me on that. Though I probably shouldn’t say that too loud. I may get kicked where the sun don’t shine and that would hurt. I already got kicked there a few weeks ago and bloody hell!

That’s true, mate. If only we could go ta’ a pub or something.