Johnny Truant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
johnny_truant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2014-06-19 03:00 pm
johnny_truant) wrote in bigapplesauce2014-06-19 03:00 pm
Shoot First, Ask Questions Later [closed]
Fuuuuck this. After sending his last text to the TARDIS, Johnny all but throws his phone angrily onto the bed, gets to his feet and puts on his shoes. He's burning with indignation, disbelief, most of all hurt - hurt that she would ever imply he doesn't care about her, hurt that the things that matter to him don't seem to matter to her - and why should they, he thinks even more angrily, she's greater and older and infinitely more than him, why should his petty little life have ever mattered to her at all? - but he shoves it all aside, buries it down to be dealt with later. Charley needs someone to get her out of there, and if Gabe and the TARDIS aren't willing to play along, then he'll have to be that someone. Anyway it's about time he did something useful.
His phone buzzes with a few more texts, but he's not interested in anything else either of them have to say right now. He draws a breath and huffs it out, then draws another and exhales slowly, trying to clear his head.
He places his palm against the closet door, fingers splayed, lets his eyes flutter closed, and focuses on Charley.
He still doesn't really know how this power works. If he can go anywhere he wants, or can only move within a certain circuit, or has to know where he's going - this isn't even something he wants to have, or get better at. But it's all he's got going for him, he can't deny that. He'll have to use it.
Keep breathing. It'll be okay.
He tries to picture Charley in a cell, any cell, he supposes it doesn't really matter. As the mental image solidifies, he feels a tingling in his fingers, a sort of numb, buzzing sensation. He doesn't really like it, but it does mean something's happened.
He opens his eyes, drops his hand to the doorknob, and opens up, holding his breath.
His phone buzzes with a few more texts, but he's not interested in anything else either of them have to say right now. He draws a breath and huffs it out, then draws another and exhales slowly, trying to clear his head.
He places his palm against the closet door, fingers splayed, lets his eyes flutter closed, and focuses on Charley.
He still doesn't really know how this power works. If he can go anywhere he wants, or can only move within a certain circuit, or has to know where he's going - this isn't even something he wants to have, or get better at. But it's all he's got going for him, he can't deny that. He'll have to use it.
Keep breathing. It'll be okay.
He tries to picture Charley in a cell, any cell, he supposes it doesn't really matter. As the mental image solidifies, he feels a tingling in his fingers, a sort of numb, buzzing sensation. He doesn't really like it, but it does mean something's happened.
He opens his eyes, drops his hand to the doorknob, and opens up, holding his breath.