040. - "But it was your home!" "It was a place I once lived. End of story." - Open spam/PM/whateva

[brokenweapon]

[Even though this Paris is different - this Paris has changed - it's still Paris to him, and he hates that the Admiral's forced him to be here. He could do without the memories this place dredged up, the ones since his awakening on the fishing boat off Marseilles. Even the ones before then, the dim ones that were half-present, still hurt.

He half-considers visiting his old apartment, visiting what used to be Treadstone's Parisian base of operations, but dismisses the thought. No. He has no need to.

So he walks, keeping his eyes peeled as he inspects the city, and letting the crisp October air clear his head.

He tries not to dwell on the dog-eared paperbacks in his room, the ones that almost make sense but don't quite. He tries not to dwell on the arbitrary capriciousness of the Admiral and the loss of one of his only friends.

And he tries very hard not to dwell on why in the hell he got stuck with another goddamn kidnapping, body-snatching Animorph for an inmate.]

Comments

"So you say if you see one more fucking Animorph..."

[sixthanimorph.livejournal.com]

[Running into Cassie had shaken David, more than he wanted to admit. Finding out she was on the Barge, and apparently had been for a week or two? That was even more unnerving. He wasn't really sure where he was going now, other than 'as far away from the Seine as possible'.

He's in morph again, this time morphing using a human morph he's never made use of before - the Motorcycle Boy (http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/108242490/34768786), one of the first inmates he ever met. A Barge denizen might recognize him, but an Animorph certainly wouldn't. And that was the idea - all his other human morphs were known to them.

Absently, almost as an afterthought, he pickpockets a harried-looking tourist and slips away into the crowd before he can be noticed. Apparently his idea of keeping a low profile doesn't include refraining from petty theft.

Ducking into a mostly empty alleyway, he begins to change subtly. Demorphing. By the time he crosses back to the streets, he's himself again. It's a bit riskier than he'd like, but the reduced morphing clock left him with little choice.]

[Private. Video.] - left like a voicemail so he can reply whenever.

[some-kinda-hero.livejournal.com]

Heya, just checking in on you. Considering where we've docked and all, future or not.