The teal Ford truck pulled slowly away from Prospect. Detective Jim Ellison expertly tuned out the unintelligible, well it was to him, chatter emanating from his companion. Sometimes the Sentinel skills that Sandburg had helped him fine-tune came in handy-especially when you had a chatterbox for a partner.
Jim sat out in his truck watching the abandoned warehouse. He'd been on the stakeout for five hours and was ready to call it quits for the night. His thoughts turned to the kid they had found or rather caught lurking around the place two weeks ago.
It was a member of the Discipline Fiction Webring. Warning: Obi-Wan is 14 at the start of the series but there is absolutely no slash in these stories. The discipline is handled in a caring, parental manner but if underage participants bothers you, please give this one a skip.
University parties were something that Blair tried to avoid at all costs, but this was one that he could not get out of, for a few reasons. First and foremost was the fact that it was his department putting on the party in the first place. Second, the dean himself had sent Blair a note requesting his appearance. And last, but possibly most important, Ian Hobson was reportedly going to attend and Simon had been dying for a chance to nail the bastard for years.
It had been several days since Jim had learned of Naomi's death, but other than a rather forced admission on that first night Blair had never allowed the subject to be brought up again and it didn't seem like that situation was bound to change any time soon. If anything Blair seemed to be growing more defensive with each passing day and Jim finally decided that he'd had enough. He knew his partner wasn't ready to talk about his mother's death but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering him.
Posted on Nov. Log in No account? Create an account.
Please note that this page contains NC slash and so is unsuitable for underage readers. Please go back now, or head elsewhere. I started reading Sentinel stories last year, and there were so many of them that I couldn't keep track of which one was which.
He enjoyed the occasional beer and wine with friends, but the strong, heavy alcohol many of his buddies would get blasted on just made him sick. He had no desire usually to sit and consume large amounts of alcohol, but when he was desperate and needed the warmth to course through his body and offer him comfort, he was not beyond the commiseration a good bottle of liquor could offer. So having no particular objective in mind, no particular destination to travel to, he drove to the campus pub where he and Bobbi Rowland had drowned their sorrows and licked their wounds after Jim Ellison, "Cop," had ended their short, illegal career. He sat at the back booth and ordered a beer and a double-shot of whiskey, a boiler maker or shot and beer or some such cultural moniker that every ethnic group seems to claim as their own invention.