Okay, gotta say it. I totally didn't see the finale for Sleepy Hollow coming at all. I had a working theory that the sheriff would somehow be a descendant of Crane's. The sin eater? Not so much. Good crap, I love this show.
Let's see, what else? Arrow rocked it, per usual. I've seen a number of 'meh, this felt like a season one episode' on twitter and tumblr, and that's cool, but I like the episodes that slow down a little and focus on, or spotlight, specific characters. I completely see how others can consider it a hot mess of an episode, but I almost always find something interesting that comes into play later or a seemingly insignificant moment that ends up being big later. So yeah, I kinda love what I've come to call 'groundwork' episodes. J Arrow writers… you just keep doing what you're doing.
Banshee still has me looking forward to Friday nights. Lost Girl is changing up the game with everyone and I kinda love it. I also gave Bitten a whirl and well, I'm in. Didn't know if I would like the premise, but oddly found myself thinking about the episodes at random points during the day. Always a sign I'm hooked. J
That's it in television news. Writing has been good this week. Maybe it's the weather, with six to nine inches of snow, the sweeping, shoveling, and blowing gives me time to ponder storylines. LOL Tonight's post is from Adventures in Nugget Sitting—absolutely a working title until the 'real' title reveals itself—and features one of the main characters finally getting a clue about how their behavior affects the other main character.
Here's the tagline:
Isla Sands, an excellent poker player, loses a card draw and has to babysit the drunken newbie pilot. Between the endless questions, throwing up, and clingy behavior of her charge, Isla takes time to wonder why Riggs Marvelton always does the same for her. And why he never attempts to just kill her and put both out of their misery.
And a sneaky peek…
Isla groaned. If Brad threw up one more time she'd find a way to put him out of his misery. Quietly, and preferably without a firearm. A pillow could work. But she'd totally go for the gun if he kept it up.
She sank back against the wall, sliding down to sit beside Brad. He had to have expelled everything in his guts, right? Her head thumped the cool tiles behind her. Doubtful.
"La La?" Brad lifted his head. "Am I going to die?"
La La? "Not from puking." She rolled him over onto his back. "But if you call me La La again, there's a good chance you won't see daylight."
He gave her a sloppy smile. "Okay, La La. You're taking really good care of me."
Isla growled and slammed her head against the tiles one more time then got to her feet. Leaning down, she grabbed Brad's hands and hauled him upward. Tucking her shoulder under his armpit, she started for the door.
Brad draped an arm around her shoulders, his hand dangling over her breast. Trudging forward, she got a better grip and half dragged him, his feet shuffling on the deck. His palm dropped lower and his fingers brushed over her boob.
She jabbed her elbow into his side. "Hands off the goods, Berenza." Death by suffocation started looking like a distinct possibility.
He grunted and rubbed his ribs with his free hand. "Owww. Come on, La La, that hurt." He stumbled but didn't go down.
Good thing, she might have left him if he had. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I didn't knee you in the groin, buddy."
Copping a feel? She should've known Berenza would try a stunt like that. An image of her hands palming Riggs's ass took up space in her head. Geez, she had zero room to get pissed.
Propping Brad against the wall, she undogged the hatch to the bunkroom and shoved it open. Grabbing his arm, she hauled him inside and dragged him to his rack, thanking whatever ruled the universe he had the first berth inside the quarters. Nudging him into his space, she bent down, lifted his feet, and pushed them up onto his mattress.
Blowing out a harsh breath, she collapsed on the nearest chair and slouched down. Geez, babysitting nuggets sucked balls. How much longer before he passed out and she could finally be done? Propping her feet up on the table, she kicked back in the seat and closed her eyes.
An image of Riggs hauling her ass to and from the head flashed in her mind. Cripes. How many times had he pulled 'Isla Duty'? And why in the hell did he keep doing it?
"Hey, how's it going?" Riggs popped his head inside the bunkroom.
Isla dropped the front of the chair to the floor and glanced his way. "Oh my God. He's making me batshit." She shook her head. "Seriously, Riggs, why and how did you refrain from killing me every time you got stuck taking care of me?"
He stepped inside the room, his eyes narrowed. "Don't you know?"
Isla snorted. "No, I really don't. Would've been so much easier to put us both out of our misery."
Riggs studied her for several moments, enough to make her a little twitchy.
He heaved a sigh. "Look, Isla, if you can't figure it out, I'm not gonna explain." His head jerked toward the bunks. "You should have plenty of time to ponder while he's in between rounds."
He turned and exited before she could respond.
Slumping back in the chair, she crossed her arms over her chest. Well, didn't Riggs like to give her shit to think about? Then again, hadn't he always? The guy never failed to twist her brain up over something.
And yet, she sort of liked how he made her think about stuff she'd usually avoid. He challenged her to expand her horizons and stretch beyond the status quo.
She sat up, the answer hitting her right between the eyes.
I always love it when my characters have light bulb moments. Isla has more than one in this story. Good thing she's got Riggs to make her think, yeah?
That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.