Post by Leo Cunningham on Jan 11, 2013 14:07:55 GMT -6
((ooc: Cara, here is the Becki and Leo 'having a catch up' scene that I mentioned to tie in with the 'moment between them actually leading somewhere' scene we meant to write aaaages ago. Hope what I said is cool with you and what you were thinking for Becki, if not let me know and I'll edit. Also, yay for the chance to write as Leo again!))
“Now… can I interest madam in coffee to finish off the meal or simply another glass of red wine?” Leo asked from the open plan kitchen-living area as Becki went and sat down on his sofa after they’d finished eating supper at the dining table. He’d agreed to cook Becki a meal that Friday night since they were both the freest they’d been for quite some weeks, months even, as neither one of them was on-call that weekend and they’d both just wrapped up intriguing, but lengthy and complex, cases that had kept them busy and largely apart for the last couple of months. He’d even ended up spending a month in Prague, following up a connected case to the one he’d been assigned and puzzling over back in London, which meant contact was scattered at best. That busy workload combined with the fact that Grace Armitage had turned up unannounced at the Locard Centre as Leo was finishing up things for Christmas and informed him he was coming with her to pack his bags and then head straight off to the Highland estate of her Cunningham relatives meant he’d spent the most part of his holidays in an unreachable location with his siblings.
Therefore Leo's Christmas holidays had not been a pleasant experience, all in all, and even sneaking some work and his laptop onto the holiday with him hadn’t been sufficient distraction to keep his Mum from insisting he play ‘happy families’ with everyone. The only reason he tolerated it was because he knew this first Christmas without his father was particularly hard on his Mum, otherwise he wouldn’t have bitten his tongue so much when Helena was her charmingly scathing self towards him every single night at the dinner table. Luckily she’d buggered off to New York for her birthday on Boxing Day, meaning that though he’d agreed to stay in the Highlands until 2nd January with his Mum, the largest irritation had disappeared swiftly in a cloud of Gucci and attitude. He’d almost enjoyed the rest of his holiday then, almost.
Now he was back where he belonged as far as he was concerned and he’d welcomed the opportunity to cook supper for Becki and catch up with her. Leo hadn’t really spoken to her properly in some months and it had been odd to say the least. He wasn’t sure he liked it one little bit, all in all. He made his way back over to her and flopped down beside her on his sofa, stretching his legs out and propping his feet up comfortably on his coffee table, “I wanted to say, properly, thanks for coming over, we haven’t been able to talk much the last few months. It is almost as if the gods were conspiring against us… what with the sheer amount of suspicious deaths, Richard needing us to pick up some slack while he’s off being grilled by the Home Office committee, my mother being her usual ultimately-harmless-but-trying self regarding Christmas… what I’m trying to say, is… to finally catching up-” he announced as a mock toast, holding his half-drank glass of wine out to clink against her glass that she’d also taken from the dinner table, “Cheers Dr Addison.”
“Now… can I interest madam in coffee to finish off the meal or simply another glass of red wine?” Leo asked from the open plan kitchen-living area as Becki went and sat down on his sofa after they’d finished eating supper at the dining table. He’d agreed to cook Becki a meal that Friday night since they were both the freest they’d been for quite some weeks, months even, as neither one of them was on-call that weekend and they’d both just wrapped up intriguing, but lengthy and complex, cases that had kept them busy and largely apart for the last couple of months. He’d even ended up spending a month in Prague, following up a connected case to the one he’d been assigned and puzzling over back in London, which meant contact was scattered at best. That busy workload combined with the fact that Grace Armitage had turned up unannounced at the Locard Centre as Leo was finishing up things for Christmas and informed him he was coming with her to pack his bags and then head straight off to the Highland estate of her Cunningham relatives meant he’d spent the most part of his holidays in an unreachable location with his siblings.
Therefore Leo's Christmas holidays had not been a pleasant experience, all in all, and even sneaking some work and his laptop onto the holiday with him hadn’t been sufficient distraction to keep his Mum from insisting he play ‘happy families’ with everyone. The only reason he tolerated it was because he knew this first Christmas without his father was particularly hard on his Mum, otherwise he wouldn’t have bitten his tongue so much when Helena was her charmingly scathing self towards him every single night at the dinner table. Luckily she’d buggered off to New York for her birthday on Boxing Day, meaning that though he’d agreed to stay in the Highlands until 2nd January with his Mum, the largest irritation had disappeared swiftly in a cloud of Gucci and attitude. He’d almost enjoyed the rest of his holiday then, almost.
Now he was back where he belonged as far as he was concerned and he’d welcomed the opportunity to cook supper for Becki and catch up with her. Leo hadn’t really spoken to her properly in some months and it had been odd to say the least. He wasn’t sure he liked it one little bit, all in all. He made his way back over to her and flopped down beside her on his sofa, stretching his legs out and propping his feet up comfortably on his coffee table, “I wanted to say, properly, thanks for coming over, we haven’t been able to talk much the last few months. It is almost as if the gods were conspiring against us… what with the sheer amount of suspicious deaths, Richard needing us to pick up some slack while he’s off being grilled by the Home Office committee, my mother being her usual ultimately-harmless-but-trying self regarding Christmas… what I’m trying to say, is… to finally catching up-” he announced as a mock toast, holding his half-drank glass of wine out to clink against her glass that she’d also taken from the dinner table, “Cheers Dr Addison.”
