Locke closed "subject B"'s -- Daisy's -- file folder with a sigh. After placing the copy of The Art of War he'd found elsewhere in the bunker on top of the folder, Locke pushed the desk chair back and rubbed his eyes. Although most of the medical jargon was over his head, Locke understood a good portion of what Daisy's torturers were doing from context. The men and women were truly vile, and Locke was angered by what he read. What surprised him was his reaction to that anger. It wasn't the impotent rage like he'd felt -- and continued to feel to a small degree -- toward his father. That had gnawed at his soul, consuming the few good things he'd managed to attain. (Helen. I hope she's well. I hope she's happy.)
His anger with the DHARMA scientists was more akin to outrage. It rose up, flared, and soon dissapated. Locke wondered why that was. (Maybe it's because we've got them. Some of them. Or maybe it's because Daisy's moving on.) Whatever the reason, Locke was grateful.
A muffled wolf whistle carried down the hall, followed by the clicking of a woman's high heels. (Daisy,) Locke grinned. She'd left the room an hour ago with a mischevious smile and swaying her hips. Her ambrosia scent preceeded her into the room.
"Hey there, sailor," Daisy purred. Somehow she made the act of standing in a doorway sensual. "Looking for a good time?"
Locke was already on his feet and walking up to her. "I think a good time found me," he grinned. He slid one arm down her back, savoring her combination of smoothness, firmness, and softness. She put her arms around his neck as he lifted her off of her feet, supporting her with his arm under her buttocks. She nibbled his ear as he closed the door, then leaned against it. He murmured against her neck, "What sort of good time do you have in mind?"
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
[Locke] The luckiest man on Earth
Date: 2006-10-15 05:15 pm (UTC)His anger with the DHARMA scientists was more akin to outrage. It rose up, flared, and soon dissapated. Locke wondered why that was. (Maybe it's because we've got them. Some of them. Or maybe it's because Daisy's moving on.) Whatever the reason, Locke was grateful.
A muffled wolf whistle carried down the hall, followed by the clicking of a woman's high heels. (Daisy,) Locke grinned. She'd left the room an hour ago with a mischevious smile and swaying her hips. Her ambrosia scent preceeded her into the room.
"Hey there, sailor," Daisy purred. Somehow she made the act of standing in a doorway sensual. "Looking for a good time?"
Locke was already on his feet and walking up to her. "I think a good time found me," he grinned. He slid one arm down her back, savoring her combination of smoothness, firmness, and softness. She put her arms around his neck as he lifted her off of her feet, supporting her with his arm under her buttocks. She nibbled his ear as he closed the door, then leaned against it. He murmured against her neck, "What sort of good time do you have in mind?"