47 Hours

[kaige68.livejournal.com]

Your challenge (should you choose to accept it) is to crank out 100 words or 1 graphic inspired by the word:
Pudding

Comments

pudding, episode, necklace

[agdhani.livejournal.com]

“You gonna return that?”
Ernest tried to shove the necklace clutched in his hand back into the open desk drawer but the fragile chain dangled over the lip of it and would not allow the drawer to close when he pushed it shut. The chief grunted with more annoyance then he felt, tucked the chain back into place, and after the drawer closed resumed picking at the bowl of rice pudding that had been perched at one elbow.
“Didn’t think you’d be back in tonight.”
“At this hour, surprised you’re still here.” Vance crumpled wearily onto the sofa, avoiding touching the worn surface with his hands so as not to see any further trace of the horrors of Yiva’s life, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Where else would I be?”
“Home?”
Ernest grunted. “Finding Brac’s not gonna happen from there.”
“Not gonna happen from here either if you don’t get some sleep.” At least the chief was eating something other than whiskey.
“You’re one to talk. Been home yet? Gotten any rest yourself?”
“Before or after we talked?” The expression on Ernest’s face, frustrated and weary, felt like answer enough. “Came to ask a favor.”
“Another one?”
Ignoring the note of strain in the man’s voice, Vance said, “Wanna borrow Pubby for a few days…if he’s willing.”
Ernest eyed the mage, set the empty bowl aside, and leaned back; the uneven chair wobbled and creaked, mirroring the impressions of age and annoyance the chief’s face expressed. “Do we have a choice?”
“Can do it without him…but if we find what we expect to find, he’s one of the few that could tell us what its worth…advise us what to do with it. If Sal was still…pf everyone here…he’s the only one I trust with this. It’s risky…and he might not want to take that risk…”
The man had a family after all, a wife and children.
“He won’t have a choice if I order it.”
“Don’t need to do that. Just let me talk to him.”
“You could have done that without coming to me.”
“I know.”
Ernest nodded, understanding. Professional courtesy, keeping him informed…and a reluctance to rob the Protectorate of the man most likely to fill the chief’s shoes when he finally retired. He turned the chair towards the shelves on the wall, rose just enough to pull a ringed book from one of them, and then turned back towards the desk. With no need to write the details down, he found the desired page and turned the book so that the mage could read it.
Vance ran his finger over the entry of interest but shook his head. “Don’t think I should invade his privacy there…”
“Thought you were in a hurry?”
“No one’s going anywhere tonight. Tomorrow night…or the morning after. Depends.”
“On?”
“A lot of things.” He sat again, inadvertently using his injured hand to brace himself
Noting the shiver that passed through Vance, the uneasy rolling of his eyes and the clenching of his hands on his knees, Ernest held his breath, expecting another episode to come over the mage but instead, Vance swallowed hard and opened his eyes. “Mind if I crash here? Wait for him to report in?” There were not many hours left before the early day shift officers arrived, and Pubby with them. As much as Vance expected the sofa to fuel nightmares to a mind predisposed to such things, it would save time. It would save him having to face his empty flat and the temptation of alcohol he had yet to restock.
If the whiskey lure grew too strong, he guessed the chief’s stash had been recently refilled.
Scowling at the sofa where he had spent many nights himself, considering if he should do so himself for the remainder of the night or if he should trudge home for some sleep in a proper bed, Ernest eventually offered a one shouldered shrug and got up from his desk.
“Suit yourself.”
“Thanks.” Vance assumed, as Ernest left the room, that going home was exactly what he had forced the chief to do.
He did not remain awake long enough to see if that was true.