driifting
Fandoms
- Succession (TV 2018) (4)
- The Pitt (TV) (4)
Recent works
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Summary
The first digestible news Dana gets after she settles into her new abilities is that Dr. Collins might have an honest-to-God thing for her. That would be a welcome development in some other universe, but she’s stuck in this one, trying to figure out the whole undead mess without blowing her cover or killing anybody. Directly, at least.
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“I guess you’re in your GILF era.”
It takes Dana a few seconds. “That better not mean what I think it means.”
“Sorry,” Cassie chirps, narrowly dodging the throw pillow launched her way. “It’s true, though! If you’re gonna keep bringing her to stuff, get ready to swat a lot of people away.”
“Hey, who says I wanna swat ‘em away to begin with?”
Cassie, Dana, June (the month), and June (the princess).
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“Seriously?” Dana tests, making the split-second decision to lie through her teeth. “You’re not the only visitor I’m gettin’, sorry to say.”
She wants to induce what she’s only seen flickers of so far. It’s automatic: whenever a patient calls her beautiful in passing, whenever the teasing interludes with Abbot run too long, whenever she gives Robby a big, playful shove – Cassie’s jaw tenses up. She’s awfully curious to see what’ll come out when she brings in the big guns.
It doesn’t really work.
(Cassie and Dana, taking October into their own hands.)
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"You like doin' me favors? Do me a favor and let me suffer in peace, kiddo.”
“Kiddo?! I’m 42 years old. And what you’re asking is ridiculous, no offense.”
Dana furrows her brow, bothered by Cassie’s refusal to back down. Or release her from that intense fucking gaze. “Wait a second. Are you the one who wants to sleep with me?”
Cassie almost does a spit take; Dana hurled the accusation her way as she was taking a swig from her water bottle. “Why does it sound like you were hunting down suspects?”
(Cassie's made a habit of saving the day. Dana doesn't know what to do with herself.)
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Summary
Anyway, it doesn’t matter that her daughter has a trickle of the British monarchy in her; Shiv still can’t book a private fucking appointment at the gynecologist’s. The elevator ride coming up took forever, this ambient music is actually making her headache worse, and the patient inside has been sobbing for the past five minutes. It’s almost too much.
The door swings open and a flurry of charcoal gray glides in. “Hi. Karolina Novotney, for 10:30.”
Almost. Almost too much.