[He's broken. He's shattered in a way few could accomplish. He's a man that fights back, that lashes out when something threatens him or his stability. But this isn't something he can fight. This had been inevitable. He'd met his future only to lose it.
He should be happy. He should be glad that Bruce has left. That the man has returned to the proper better Alfred. He's back where he belongs. But Bruce is Bruce and losing him is like losing a part of himself.
He'd lost his son. Lost him before he could ever make amends for not being who he was supposed to be. Bruce was gone. Like he never existed in this world, leaving very little behind. Leaving him nothing but empty handed memories.
He's taking it about as good as he can, considering. He tries to keep a stiff upper lip at work, and around Regulus. The boy doesn't need his Dom falling apart at the seams.
But at night, when he's sure Reg is well in bed, he allows himself to greive. A bottle of the good stuff from work and the darkness of the living area. He knows he's breaking the rules, violating his contract, that if caught, Regulus could be taken or worse, fire him as his Dom. But he needs this right now. He needs the burn, drowning the memory of his son, all grown up in another glass.
He empties the bottle and it's not enough.] Bloody hell... [He'll have to break into the cooking cabnet.]
Hello, Regulus. I hope it's alright for me to contact you. I was hoping... Well, I'm sorting out a job, and it was suggested that I brush up on wards against cursing. I'm not a magic user, and really haven't met any others - although it seems there are several who are unhappy with my future empoloyer. But I thought of you, and was wondering if you could help me? Or, if not, perhaps point me to a good place to ask. Not Nick Scratch, or any of his associates, probably.
If you could get back in touch, I'd appreciate it. Thank you.
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text;
i think i fucked up at the hotel.
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He should be happy. He should be glad that Bruce has left. That the man has returned to the proper better Alfred. He's back where he belongs. But Bruce is Bruce and losing him is like losing a part of himself.
He'd lost his son. Lost him before he could ever make amends for not being who he was supposed to be. Bruce was gone. Like he never existed in this world, leaving very little behind. Leaving him nothing but empty handed memories.
He's taking it about as good as he can, considering. He tries to keep a stiff upper lip at work, and around Regulus. The boy doesn't need his Dom falling apart at the seams.
But at night, when he's sure Reg is well in bed, he allows himself to greive. A bottle of the good stuff from work and the darkness of the living area. He knows he's breaking the rules, violating his contract, that if caught, Regulus could be taken or worse, fire him as his Dom. But he needs this right now. He needs the burn, drowning the memory of his son, all grown up in another glass.
He empties the bottle and it's not enough.] Bloody hell... [He'll have to break into the cooking cabnet.]
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voice; un: father anderson
Please respond, Mr. Black.
[Ad nauseum.]
voice. un: rab.
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video; un: integral
If you could get back in touch, I'd appreciate it. Thank you.
video.
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text, un: tonks, backdated a week ish
[ ..... yes, great start, Dora. ]