Dr Henry Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
livelongenough) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-08-19 12:25 am
livelongenough) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-19 12:25 am
Entry tags:
Everyday Goings On
A City Aglow
The Thames, as a river, is absolutely horrible. Completely filthy. But, standing at the rail of the bridge and taking in the sights, it makes London look beautiful.
He can remember the last time it froze over completely. The way he'd laughed at seeing the elephant led across it to prove how solid it was.
Just under his feet, there are grey slate slabs. He has them memorised.
"There you may print your name, tho cannot write
Cause num'd with cold: tis done with great delight
And lay it by that ages yet to come
May see what things upon the ice were done."
He remembers the gas lamps that gave way to electric lamps that became the lights lining the streets.
The city is far more ancient than he, and that is a welcome feeling. Many things are fleeting, but--
"London endures."
Time to Kill
"Fine," Henry says in his office at the Redbright Institute, seemingly unconcerned that his office door is open. "You have your uses. Are you happy now?"
His conversation partner?
His computer.
He has the Metro open in a window on his browser. Not that a computer can ever replace a newspaper, not really, but it is helpful in that he can keep up to date with New York and certain police investigations.
For a moment, his hand hovers over his office phone before he withdraws it.
It's not worth it.
A Familiar Face -- open to Guardians and/or ghosts
cw: talk of suicide
'I know you.'
Her voice is as soft as he expected. She's young, just a slip of a girl. Not even sixteen. Her dark hair complements her former complexion as she sits on his examination table beside her own body.
By now, Henry Morgan is no stranger to ghosts.
"Hello, my dear." After death, there was little reason to stand on ceremony, and she looked so fragile. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."
It hadn't even been on purpose, that day on the Tube. He'd been waiting for his train when he'd noticed something off. Before he could even think about it, he'd taken the girl's arm and tugged her back before she could overbalance and fall off the platform.
When she'd looked at him with pain and despair, he'd realised she'd meant to fall.
They always found another way, if they were determined.
'You weren't supposed to.'
"Because everything ends after death?"
'Because I didn't want to die anymore.'
The Thames, as a river, is absolutely horrible. Completely filthy. But, standing at the rail of the bridge and taking in the sights, it makes London look beautiful.
He can remember the last time it froze over completely. The way he'd laughed at seeing the elephant led across it to prove how solid it was.
Just under his feet, there are grey slate slabs. He has them memorised.
"There you may print your name, tho cannot write
Cause num'd with cold: tis done with great delight
And lay it by that ages yet to come
May see what things upon the ice were done."
He remembers the gas lamps that gave way to electric lamps that became the lights lining the streets.
The city is far more ancient than he, and that is a welcome feeling. Many things are fleeting, but--
"London endures."
Time to Kill
"Fine," Henry says in his office at the Redbright Institute, seemingly unconcerned that his office door is open. "You have your uses. Are you happy now?"
His conversation partner?
His computer.
He has the Metro open in a window on his browser. Not that a computer can ever replace a newspaper, not really, but it is helpful in that he can keep up to date with New York and certain police investigations.
For a moment, his hand hovers over his office phone before he withdraws it.
It's not worth it.
A Familiar Face -- open to Guardians and/or ghosts
cw: talk of suicide
'I know you.'
Her voice is as soft as he expected. She's young, just a slip of a girl. Not even sixteen. Her dark hair complements her former complexion as she sits on his examination table beside her own body.
By now, Henry Morgan is no stranger to ghosts.
"Hello, my dear." After death, there was little reason to stand on ceremony, and she looked so fragile. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."
It hadn't even been on purpose, that day on the Tube. He'd been waiting for his train when he'd noticed something off. Before he could even think about it, he'd taken the girl's arm and tugged her back before she could overbalance and fall off the platform.
When she'd looked at him with pain and despair, he'd realised she'd meant to fall.
They always found another way, if they were determined.
'You weren't supposed to.'
"Because everything ends after death?"
'Because I didn't want to die anymore.'
no subject
Maybe it will help Lucy, finding closure of who did this and why they did this. It's worth a shot and it's the reason why she asks, "Were you having any trouble with anyone in particular? With your friends, with your workplace-- Does anyone come to mind when you think of 'poor relations' or 'difficulty' or anything like that?"
The thought of medication and history of her troubles came to mind but maybe it'll be better to let Dr. Morgan use his connections to find the files, look through them due to his knowledge of these sort of things. It's a safer bet and so she sticks to what she thinks she knows-- Personal relationships, connections, and things like that.
Someone wanted Lucy dead and they pushed her to do it. That's a personal action to do so it must have a personal reasoning behind it. There has to be.