Lesser Evils, Part 16

16 – Idaho Somehow Holden hadn’t imagined he’d be spending the afternoon laying in bed with a hockey player, smoking a joint and watching a Mythbusters marathon, but things had been so weird lately, in retrospect it was inevitable. The Falcons didn’t have a game until Thursday night, which was good timing, as it allowed Grey to fly home for the wedding of “brother number two” (Grey was one of several, which may have explained a lot), and it meant Scott had their apartment all to himself. He invited Holden over for lunch – lunch! Seriously!- and it was such an odd thing that Holden agreed, just to see what he had in mind. As it turned out, Scott really meant lunch. He made them grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with apple (he said a...

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Lesser Evils, Part 15

15 – Seven Curtains Even outside, Holden heard the thud. It was funny how much noise a body could make at times. He went inside, mainly because he knew it wasn’t Roan (like that asshole could take him down), and started up the stairs, pausing only when he heard a sickly, angry growl that couldn’t have come from a human. “Roan, if you’re still in there, it’s just me,” he said, keeping his voice and his tone low and even. Just treat him like any other big scary cat that wanted to rip his head off and chew on his neck stump, but don’t be scared, as they could smell fear and it was a big old aphrodisiac for them. On the second floor landing, he found a guy in a desert camo clad coat in a neat collapsed heap, like a homeless man sleeping in a...

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New mix, for your listening pleasure …

This is the Panic mix. You’ll have to supply your own shirtless bartenders, though.

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Lesser Evils, Part 14

14 – Horse Girl Roan carefully unfolded himself from his hiding place and sniffed the air, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on the neon thread of his own blood, the scent cutting through the miasma of neglect that made the air seem like a thick sludge. He gauged distance by its strength, opened his eyes, and followed it. He stuck to the shadows – not as easy as you would think, as it was night and the existence of shadows themselves was disputable – and it wasn’t too long before he found him, a shambling figure in a desert style camo jacket (tan on brown – exactly who did he think he was fooling?)  with a worn backpack slung across his shoulders. He could have passed for any of Seattle’s homeless, except he smelled of expensive...

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