I really do love this. I'm envious that you wrote it while tipsy :) I should really try writing like that sometime, then maybe I might have some slim hope of matching your skillz.


He brought out the gun. It was a flat grey, matte and dull - that peculiar barrel design half of Pegasus seemed to use. He couldn't tell which barrel the bullet was supposed to come out of, so he spent a minute taking it apart and putting it back together to check. Wouldn't do to miss.

He stayed standing, because it seemed fitting, pulling the stranger's coat until it settled neatly on his shoulders. He'd even shaved for the occassion, eyeing the straight razor in someone else's mirror - his own was smoke-black, shattered in the heat of the fire. He'd borrowed a shirt and pants, even suspenders, and he didn't feel the least bit of guilt about getting blood on them.

I know the visual is based on the icon, but it's still powerful, and fitting and awesome and hi, I love you, have I mentioned it in the past six hours? I love him taking it apart, figuring out how it works--every detail is so efficient, perfect, and John.