There's Another Chance • •

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

In had been just another day at the office for Dylan, only his ‘office’ was the OR and his paperwork had been a craniotomy on a fifty two year old man who didn’t seem to like his neurosurgeon one bit. Dylan was used to difficult patients who were scared about the surgery or their illness and tried to mask that with a defensive attitude, but most of the time he was able to charm them with his bedside manner and help relax their nerves before they went down for whatever surgical procedure they were scheduled in for. His patient today though was having none of it, not even when Dylan expressed his hopes for removing the bulk of the tumour pressing down on his frontal lobe. Still, the procedure as gone as planned and Dylan was exhausted by the time he stepped out of the theatre and scrubbed down for the day. After that he was with the junior residents and confirming the on call roster for the rest of the month. He spent the final hour and a half of his shift hiding in his actual office to speed through some paperwork and patient files before shutting his mind off for the day and heading home, his trusty bike already waiting for him in the allotted STAFF parking space.

He may have lived in New York for over a decade now, but he had only really started appreciating the beauty of The Big Apple once he had found his current apartment. It was a spacious but modest apartment on the top floor of the elegant art deco building he had fallen in love with from the moment he had seen it on the listing. Inside he was greeted by his excited dogs who he paid attention to until they were calmer and ready to let their master cross the open plan design to the kitchenette to serve them some dinner and fresh water. Dylan pushed open the double doors to his balcony to let in the fresh air of the warn June evening and then poured himself some juice from the carton in the refrigerator. He had been lucky to get a place like this, but his wages easily made the rent each month now, especially with his residency unofficially over and a nice bump up in his earnings. Although his décor made it look expensive, Dylan’s secret was that most of his furniture had been bought cheap and some of it in disrepair. One of his hobbies was interior design and furniture restoration and many an evening had been spent on the balcony he admired the view from with tools in hand, fixing up a piece until it looked quite homely and nothing like the mess he had picked it up in.

The Irishman was contemplating what to make for dinner, rolling his sleeves up and popping the buttons of his waistcoat open as the cogs in his head turned, picturing everything that he had in and ruling ideas out one by one. Finally, he settled on his usual choice of dinner and began to pull the necessary ingredients out of the cupboards one by one, along with the pans and utensils that he’d need. Turning his iPod on in the docking station, Dylan began to sing along with the old tunes he had grown up hearing when his dad was around, chopping the vegetables and getting himself into his usual cooking ritual. He was just about to turn the cooker on when he heard the knock at his door. His eyebrows furrowed, knowing that a knock meant it had to be someone in the building, rather than anyone else. He did know most of his neighbours and got along pretty well with a number of them too, so it wasn’t all that unusual for someone to knock. There was a little old woman who hadn’t long lost her husband and she would often ask Dylan to help her with something, like a light bulb change or moving something heavy. When he pulled the door open though, he was pleasantly surprised to see Bridget on the other side. “Bridget, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

[/color] He asked with that charismatic smile of his falling into place with ease.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 745
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget had been a silent wreck since the better part of May. But she had filled the dull, numbing ache with school work. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that now since school was well over with for the year. Instead, she’d tried pushing her emotions into sonnets and poems, but dark work wasn’t her favourite and her pieces turned to the worst of her temperament by the time she was penning her moniker after the last word. In between all of that, she’d baked; a lot. She didn’t have a free container left before she’d gone out and picked up far too many more.

She’d been meaning to spill everything to Taylor and just get a shoulder to cry on and a couple tubs of Ben and Jerry’s to eat between them, but then Tay threw everything on her! And even Bridget had to admit, her man troubles were far greater than Bee’s. So, she’d hide hers away and handled it by baking. In reality, she wasn’t that upset about the break up. Koda was hardly ever around and when he was, it was work this, work that. There was only so much of chat about work that Bridget could sit through. If it were somehow interesting, there was a chance she would stay invested.

Sighing, Bridget got up from the chair in the library she’d set up in the spare room at the sound of the oven timer going off. Her latest batch of cookies was done. She put on her hot pink mitts on and took the cookie sheet from the oven. She had run out of sugar with this last batch and just didn’t feel like going out to pick up some more. She didn’t have anything to keep her busy since she’d already finished all the work she had to do for September. Bee knew she wasn’t staying in New York for the entire summer; she was going back to Nevada for a month or so in a couple weeks. But she still had two weeks in the city to pack and get everything ready.

It was as she was searching for another container to put these cookies in that she realized just how much she’d baked. Sighing, the English Lit professor dug out a plate, tossing a bit of everything she’d baked throughout the day on the plate. She needed to get rid of all these treats because there was no way in hell she was going to eat half of it. She didn’t know if Dylan was home or not, but it was right across the hall and there was just too much around the house. Just in case, she covered the overflowing plate in plastic wrap and went straight out the apartment door and took two steps across the hall. She heard music playing through the door so she smiled in relief that he was home and knocked. Her smile turned genuine when he opened the door and she held the plate up. “I was baking,” she said, showing of the plate in her hand. Anyone who knew her even the tiniest bit knew she baked when she was stressed of frustrated, but she wouldn’t say anything.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 533
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

Whenever something bothered Dylan, or life threw him some tragedy, he buried himself in his work. He had done it since he was a kid and had used it to help to stop thinking about the cancer. After that it had become his own personal way of grieving or ignoring the pain he was feeling. It had been a while now since he had done that, but it was only a matter of time before he started bringing the files homes with him or he locked himself away in the small office at the hospital long after his shift finished. His stress buster was very different though and usually consisted of heavy tools and safety equipment, unless it was late at night, in which case he would pull out the easel from the corner of his apartment and try his hand at painting. He was nowhere near being able to put on a show or really present any of his work, but it soothed his mind and silenced his thoughts when he needed it to.

It had been a while since his love life had pushed him to either of those things, but then it had been a while since he had seriously dated anyone too. The last girl in his life had not been impressed when their date had been cut short by his beeper interrupting them, followed immediately by a phone call from the hospital; the on call neurosurgeon that evening needed extra support after a highway collision had brought a number of casualties in. Apparently she didn’t want a guy who would reschedule on her, even if he was saving lives. He hadn’t been too bothered though; if someone couldn’t accept him and the fact that his career came before anything else, then they weren’t worth his time. His mam had told him that maybe if he explained his reasoning for that, then things might be different. Dylan just shook her advice off though, knowing that all she wanted was an excuse to buy baby clothes and boast about the grandkids currently existing only in her imagination. She had been married and pregnant with her third child by twenty-seven, so she seemed to think that it was only right for her children to follow that same path. Dylan had stopped listening to her some time ago on the matter though, simply smiling whenever she went off on one of her rambling lectures about it.

Bridget was one of the neighbours he spoke to frequently since she had the apartment across the hall and he ran into her more times than he could count. They had dinner together on the nights when both of them looked like they could do with a break from the stresses of the modern world and it wasn’t totally unusual for her to appear at his door. However, what did stand out to the young neurosurgeon was the variety of treats on the small plate. Dylan was pretty sure that most of them would’ve fallen onto the floor already if it wasn’t for the plastic wrap holding them in place. The plate spoke louder than Bridget’s words did and a knowing twinkle appeared in his blue eyes as they narrowed in realisation. Silently, he took the plate from her and then took her hand, tugging her into his apartment before closing the door and crossing to the kitchenette area again. The tall Irishman pulled two large wine glasses from the top cupboard and then plucked a bottle of wine from the bottle rack. Crossing to the dining table, he gestured for Bridget to sit down and poured them both a generous drink from the dark green bottle. “You’re in luck; I’m making my risotto.”

[/color] He told her, glancing back to where he was in the middle of preparing his trademark dish. “So, we’ll eat good food, drink good wine and you can tell me exactly what is bothering you.”[/color] He smirked across at her and took a sip from his glass. He was a good listener and judging by the gift from his neighbour, Bridget was more stressed out than anyone should be for the start of summer.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 730
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Baking had been the solution to everything in Bridget’s house. Whenever her mother was in a mood or worried about something, she baked. And that trait got passed on to her only child. Bridget, like her mother, enjoyed baking. It was a fun hobby for the professor. But she never baked so much she literally ran out of supplies. Unless there was something on her mind that she didn’t want there and doing the trivial things that baking required kept her from thinking about those things. The girls baked and the only man spoke English. In her childhood home, it was French constantly. Her mother had wanted Bridget to grow up knowing both halves of her heritage. She went to English schools with the barely basic French curriculum, worked in English speaking places. But once through that light blue door the only language heard was French, unless there were guests; it was just poor manners.

Bee was a hell of a lot more like her mom than her father, but she still had some of the Doctor’s traits, too. Where she hid them, she didn’t know but she knew there was something in there that wasn’t French. She was glad that Dylan was home since she needed to hand off some of her sweets to someone and it was a little late to be calling friends from their plans just to pick up some treats. She didn’t think she made that much, but she was still in denial over the goods. The blonde professor was taking the break up well, considering it should have broken her at least a little bit. But didn’t her mother always say if the break up didn’t hurt, it hadn’t meant as much as you thought?

Admittedly, she was a little dull, but other than that and the baking she was doing, she didn’t feel different. She didn’t feel broken, or depressed or even remotely sad about it all. It was almost like she was relieved that the relationship was finally over. It was probably going to take more than a little over ten hours before it would kick in. Breaking up over a morning coffee really ruins the great vibe the caffeine usually gave Bridget. She expected him to take the plate, thank her and politely shoo her off. She could see plainly that he had probably just gotten home from the hospital not too long ago and thought that he’d probably want a little down time. She should have waited a bit longer before she dropped by, but she hadn’t been thinking. She hadn’t expected him to take the plate and her hand, pulling her into his apartment.

She stood there a little awkwardly just out of the way. They often had dinners together taking turns to cook but Bridget hadn’t thought a little drop off would result in one of those nights. And the self-involved mood she was in, she wouldn’t be good company. The blonde professor was too much in her thoughts to be any form of good company. Still, she sat down at the table, looking out at the city she adored so much and accepted the generous glass of wine. She took a large gulp, not realizing the wine was exactly what she needed; an entire bottle of the stuff would do well, maybe even two! “I love that risotto,” she said against the glass she was holding to her lips. She didn’t sip more from it, just held it there as she looked out over the skyline. Her blue eyes snapped back to Dylan, staring wide at him a little shocked, before her stunned expression turned into a genuine relieved smile. “J'aurais du le savoir,” she said shaking her head. She didn’t think she read like a book, but clearly there were people who could see past that. “How many bottles do you have?” she asked, curious. She was French after all, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than one generous glass of wine to get her to the level of drunk she didn’t know she wanted to be yet.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 688
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

Dylan rarely had the time to be alone with his thoughts these days. His position at the hospital kept him busy for more hours than he’d care to confess too, especially when he was sorting through rotation paperwork and organising the junior residents, which all happened around the hours he spent in surgery. Some days it would be six or seven long hours in that operating room, poking about inside someone’s head. There was more to his life than the hospital though and he had a family to keep in touch with and little sisters who expected to spend the odd weekend at his apartment, driving him insane with trips out in the city that his mom and Justin didn’t have time to do. If Dylan ever really had something trivial bothering him, then those things alone were usually enough to get rid of those pesky thoughts.

There were days though when it wasn’t enough. Just like his father, on those days he pulled out the tools and the paints and lost himself in those hobbies, almost forgetting everything. There were times when he’d complete a project and not even remember what he had done; he’d find himself just staring at the finished piece. They were the nights when something had really hit him hard, usually something to do with a patient or the anniversary of his father’s death. The rest of the time Dylan could push through and find some way to manage. He didn’t want to have to hide all of his troubles; that wasn’t healthy and he didn’t want old ghosts to destroy his life.

Dylan’s last break up had been his own doing. She had been a nice girl, but he had just been offered his residency position and he didn’t have time to balance a relationship and all of the new responsibilities he was about to be given. She had cried, he had felt awful for it, but it was something he didn’t regret and it rarely came up in his daily thoughts now. It had been right and she would’ve only been more hurt if they’d stayed together. He rearranged his life enough as it was for his job and there was already a long list of cancelled family dinners and late meets with his friends, without needing to complicate that even more with a girl who would expect him home at certain times, ready for movies and dinner and Dylan wasn’t capable of that. Really, he probably never would be. To him, saving lives was always going to come first and finding someone who understood that probably would be the hardest challenge of his life, though he was in no rush to start it.

The blue eyed neurosurgeon had never been one to ignore someone in need, especially not when he considered that person a friend. It would be any hour of the day or night, but Dylan would always have the time for someone to cry on his shoulder if they needed to. It had been pretty obvious from the second he saw the plate that Bridget had spent too long alone today, trying to forget whatever thoughts were playing on her mind. He grinned across at her, quickly tossing everything together on the stove, preparing the meal before they got down to whatever was the real nitty-gritty problem that Bridget was having. He let out a soft laugh and shook his head, stirring their meal together, keeping an eye on it as he spoke. “It’s my job to get inside people’s heads.”

[/color] Literally, it was true, but he hoped that the small bit of neurology humour might bring another smile to her face. At least if she was smiling and laughing then he was helping her. Dylan reached for his glass again, sipping at the wine again before turning back to check on the food and then Bridget. “Enough!”[/color] He laughed warmly. His wine rack was almost always full, just in case of emergencies like this one. Sometimes, a glass or two of expensive wine was exactly what he needed to end a long and tiring day. “So, if you start talking, I’ll keep pouring.”[/color] He said with a friendly smile as he focused on finishing off their meal and serving it up.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 748
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bee knew all about the long hours doctor’s kept. She’d lived her entire life wondering if her father was going to be home for dinner, if he was going to catch her dance recital or if he was going to be at her sports’ games. When she was just a little girl, she hadn’t really understood the whole thing of it all. But once she got a little older, she realized her daddy was out saving lives so she couldn’t have him all to herself when she wanted him to play cards or practice volleyball in the backyard. It was because of her father, that she understood where Dylan was coming from when he needed to talk.

She could easily understand the difficulties of having relationships with his career. And that wasn’t the problem with her last relationship now. He hadn’t worked crazy hours. He was part of SWAT but they worked in shifts and he hardly cancelled on her at the beginning. It was different at the end though. He was distant and didn’t seem to realize she had classes at some weird times. If it had been up to her, she would have been curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a book, not teaching a two hour class at eight on a Thursday night. But, it wasn’t her call to make and once a week, she was busy until ten, unable to answer her phone or return a text.

Grinning, Bridget rolled her eyes at the neurology humour. “You need to work on your routine,” she said, laughing. She should have known going to Dylan was a good idea. He never failed to put a smile on her face with a silly little joke. And that was exactly what she needed right now. She wasn’t upset about it all though. It was all like it was inevitable and now that it had happened, she was just sort of done with it all. Bridget took an obvious glance at the wine rack. “That doesn’t look like enough to me. French, remember?” she said, teasing. She took another big gulp of the wine, knowing she was going through the glass too quickly but unable to care that much about it. “We broke up,” she said at last with a small shrug. Saying it out loud didn’t change anything either. She was still unemotional about it all yet.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 402
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

Dylan was in no rush to settle down, find a happy ending and start the whole family man thing. He was twenty seven, living his life in New York City as it came and could not stand the pressure his mam seemed to be putting on him to find a bride already. He had a romantic side to him and flirted most of the time without even realising it, but he didn’t understand why some people were fascinated by having that whole family imaged nailed by the time they hit the big three oh. He had spent the majority of his twenties learning and becoming the man he had wanted to be ever since his own battle with cancer when he was just a boy. His mam was from a different kind of generation, where family life and making a home came above a career. He had given up explaining it to her a long time ago; knowing whatever explanation he offered her would not be enough for the woman who had given birth to him.

The Irishman had lived through and seen more than things than he cared to share with everyone in his life. His old illness was something he kept close to his chest and the scar on his head was hidden by his thick hair, so no one ever asked inconvenient questions about that, but people had it far worse than he did, especially some in relationships. It was hard for him to even begin putting into words, but he had seen some couples on the neurology ward that were really only together because someone felt guilty about breaking up with a seriously ill person. Dylan could understand it some of the time, but he always came to the same opinion that it was wrong; a person needed to look forward to something during a recovery and giving them false hope of a promising future never worked out for the best in the end. It was none of his business though and whatever he overheard or was told he often just had to roll with it; he was getting paid to make them better, not sort out their lives completely.

Chuckling, he turned to look at her again with a smirk and a tilt of his head. “Give me a break; I just spent five hours in the OR.”

[/color] It really was just another typical day for him, though he was only just getting used to people being surprised by what he actually did during those long hours in his green scrubs. He dished up the risotto once it was ready, leaving the utensils in the small sink until later; there was no rush right now to clean up. Grinning at her words, he reached up and tugged open the door of one of his cabinets, revealing another few bottles of wine along with the numerous bottles of stronger drinks that were usually saved for special occasions or the days from hell. “Irish, remember?”[/color] He retorted. His accent had mostly faded these days, but there was still a noticeable twang to every word that Dylan never wanted to lose. His Belfast accent came back in full force in the family home, but he had discovered people found it easier to understand him when it was softer, especially if he was in the hospital reeling off medical jargon. He paused for a second, trying to gauge her reaction to her own news, but she seemed indifferent, almost numb. Bringing the plates to the table and placing them on the mats, he reached out to rub Bridget’s shoulder caringly. “I’m sorry, hun.”[/color] He sat down and looked across at her again, concern in his pale eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”[/color] He asked, picking up his fork and taking the first bite of his meal. It might have been a long day for him, but he would happily sit up all night with the blonde professor if it was what she wanted – or needed to feel better again.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 707
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Like more than a few people her age, Bridget wasn’t looking to settle down, start a family of her own or any of those things. She was only twenty-six, and she’d just really started her career. Now wouldn’t be the wise choice to decide these things. Did she want them, eventually? Sure but her life right now was exactly how she wanted it. She wanted to have fun right now, get her career off the ground and make a few mistakes. She was thankful her parents understood. They married young, being high school sweethearts, but they knew their daughter wasn’t the kind of girl that could do that. She needed to experience the world, get her life figured out and maybe finish that novel she’d put aside for years now.

She should have known earlier that the relationship wouldn’t last. It took two people and when one of them was willing to put a little work in and the other wasn’t, it wasn’t going to go anywhere fast. Once she realized she wasn’t happy and felt like it was more work than fun to try and get a meal from the SWAT officer, Bee knew it was time to end things. She was probably lucky she could get that coffee meeting out of him that morning. She had to tear that bandage off as quickly and painlessly as she could. She was indifferent about it all. She hurt from it, obviously, or she wouldn’t have felt the need to bake. But that wasn’t hitting her. She always chuckled at the college kids she heard the hall, moaning about breaking up and she didn’t want to be that girl herself. She had lost count how many of those students were hers and came to her office during hours or right to her after class to talk about it all. And she gave them the same advice, always; to put all the pain, the anger, all the energies she had towards the break up and put it into a short story, a poem, a movie script, anything to get all those emotions out and to put them to good use.

“Is that really an excuse though? Don’t you spend even more time than that in there sometimes? I’m not accepting that as an excuse,” she said, grinning. She was starting to feel better since walking through the door of Dylan’s apartment. She didn’t want to be alone. She had the dogs, but they weren’t any kind of help; especially since she needed people around so she would stop standing in her kitchen and do something else. Plus the two dogs she had sound asleep on their beds in the living room liked stealing treats from the table, so even if they could stop her, they wouldn’t have! Laughing, Bridget nodded her head, “Touché,” she said, tilting her head to the side as if giving him a break on that one. She didn’t have an accent being born and raised in Nevada, but she could fake a decent one. Her mother never lost hers and speaking French all the time at home, it wasn’t difficult to mimic her mother. Bridget shrugged her shoulder once Dylan sat down. “Not your fault,” she said, setting her wine glass down and replacing it with a fork in her hand. Bridget looked up at Dylan with a forkful of risotto poised just above her plate. “What’s there to say, really? He was annoyed at my odd hours; I was annoyed at his sudden lack of interest lately,” she admitted, shoveling the forkful into her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything more. She didn’t know what else to say and she didn’t want to just ramble and unload everything on Dylan. She knew from her father what it was like after spending the day in the operating room. This wasn’t a time to sit around; drinking themselves silly and rant about a guy Bridget should have broken up with months ago. He should have been sitting back relaxing, maybe even sleeping but she’d ruined that for him.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 679
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

Despite his career requiring careful planning and thinking ahead on a regular basis, that was not a trait Dylan had in any other area of his life. Whilst it did give a person something to aim for and a goal to reach, it also left them open to disappointment and annoyance if those plans didn’t become a reality in the time frame set. No, once Dylan was away from the hospital and not on call, he had a tendency to live his life as it happened; if a night out ended up in a strange place, with unique characters, then so be it. He had woken up too many mornings with a hangover and the regrets to match it, but Dylan took it in his stride and didn’t let it get him down. After the scare of his childhood, Dylan would rather have those silly nights he’d prefer not to think about than a lifetime of careful choices and cautious moves. He’d rather have the memories too explicit to share with his children and the tales that brought a boyish smirk to his face than the boring old life that would never make an interesting autobiography.

One day, when he was older, he might calm down, find a girl to make his wife and perhaps even have the kids to make up that perfect little family, but it wasn’t something that frequented his thoughts on a regular basis and if he did think about it, it was nothing more than a passing moment. Dylan didn’t look at his friends who were in long-term relationships with or without kids and feel jealous at all. It was something he wasn’t ready for and something he didn’t want right now in his life. He was happy for those who did though and the night he came home from work just as Bee was heading out on a date with Mr S.W.A.T he had been happy for her too, silently wishing her the best, especially if he had turned out to be “the one” for the literature loving blonde. Clearly, he hadn’t been and now Bridget was in some kind of state, though what kind the neurosurgeon wasn’t quite sure of yet, since she seemed pretty numb to him.

Laughing at Bridget’s slight cheek, Dylan turned to her, his eyebrows high towards his hairline. “And on those days, I’m usually passed out by now.”

[/color] He informed her with a smirk. If Dylan spent more than six hours in the OR he usually found himself coming home and just falling onto his bed or even the couch, not even bothering to take his shoes or bike leathers off. It was a little disorientating to wake up in the middle of the night on his own couch and cocooned in leather that made him feel like he was being baked alive after several hours of sleeping in it. It happened though and those were the nights that he could guarantee that there would be no nightmares invading his sleep. Those were the days when the migraines hit hard and fast though, once he was away from the bright surgery lights. It had been a while since one of those though, and for that, Dylan was thankful. He raised a forkful of the risotto to his mouth and flicked his light eyes across to his neighbour, listening as she spoke. “There’s always more to say, an’ you’ll probably feel beher if you let it all out.”[/color] His accent slipped through more now that he was relaxing, but he didn’t want Bridget to feel like he was pushing her into talking. He honestly didn’t mind listening to her rant and rave and if she needed a shoulder to cry on then he could do that too. He was on a late shift tomorrow, so there was no need for an early night and ever since the nightmares had bothered Dylan in his teenage years he had been only in need of a four or five hours of sleep each night to make it through another day. “Bridget, it’s me; Dylan. I’m not going to care if you verbally tear the guy to shreds tonight. Just do it if you need t’.”[/color] He told her softly, offering her another reassuring smile.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 748
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

It was a shame the school year was complete until September. Bridget could have thrown everything into her work, grading those papers and not expanding her waistline. Her thoughts would have brought her there eventually, but it would have been only when work couldn’t contain her thoughts any longer. She had enjoyed her nights out on the town with the SWAT officer, but at the end of the day, she still went home, curled up in her own bed and worked until she accomplished what she’d set out for. She was a bright young woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide. This wouldn’t send her spiraling, but it would cement her feelings for some time to come. Bee was just going to take a hiatus from men and be a single carefree career woman in the big apple; how terribly cliché. Bridget grinned wickedly, biting her lip. “I know, I can sometimes hear you snoring,” she said, lightly, teasing. She didn’t have days like that. The latest she was home by was eleven and even then a lot of her time was spent in her office, listening to her student’s complain or try and get extra time on their assignments.

Bridget didn’t know what to say to Dylan. Koda had been great in the beginning and then things just sort of started to drift between them. Truthfully, Bridget had never seen herself with a cop of any kind in the great scheme of things. She’d pictured herself in different scenarios, but seeing a cop hadn’t been one of them. There were too many things that could go wrong. She was a tough cookie, but she was pretty sure there was no way in hell she would ever be able to answer the door one night and find a couple cops on the doorstep looking sad and detached telling her the bad news. It was bad enough there were times growing up she didn’t think her father was going to come home when she heard a fight broke out in the emergency room of his hospital. It didn’t matter that her father hadn’t worked in the E.R. since he was in his early thirties, she had still held her breathe until the clean shaven man walked through the door.

“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, Dyl. He was a cop and I have issues with authority. We found more than anything and he hardly touched the pastries! Who doesn’t like baked things, really?” she said, narrowing her eyes at the thought. Maybe it was because she grew up under the patient wing of a pastry chef that had her keeping a massive sweet tooth, but she didn’t understand how anyone could hate sweets. Bridget could understand not liking a dish with peanut butter or something if they had an allergy, but there were ways around that now. “Honestly, I think I’m kind of relieved,” she admitted, stuffing a forkful of risotto past her lips. She had never been out to try and impress Koda. She was who she was and if he hadn’t seen something he liked, he would have gone some time before now.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 525
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

It had been some time since Dylan had really felt the harsh pain that only ever came with heartbreak, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t remember what it felt like. Getting over her had resulted in several new pieces of restored furniture and even a series of paintings that had he stored away somewhere. They had been nothing fancy at all, but they had kept him busy and kept his mind off of everything. Dylan couldn’t really bury himself in his career, since he needed to be in top form himself for his job. His old mentor who had retired the previous year had told him on the very first day of his residency that all personal problems and thoughts had to be left at the door of the hospital. Once Dylan was inside he was Doctor Griffin and all that mattered was the health of his patients and not who he had shared dinner with the night before or the girl who had caught his attention at the coffee shop.

Playfully, Dylan glared at his blonde companion. “Our walls are not that thin.”

[/color] He reminded her as though it was a regular discussion of theirs. It was, however, one of the great perks of this building. If someone had loud music playing or if Dylan had the saw operating, there was a very small chance of the police calling around with a noise complaint. It was a decent building to call home and he still considered himself lucky to have snapped up this apartment before anyone else had done. Plus, he had neighbours like Bridget who he could casually have dinner with from time to time or be her shoulder to cry on, if that was what she needed.

He wasn’t going to force her into telling him the ins and outs of the break up with Koda, but he did believe that she’d feel better after a little rant or a wine induced ramble about feelings. Dylan got to play the neutral person in all of this, since unless there was a dramatic reason behind the split, he wouldn’t be taking sides or getting involved in any drama that might have surfaced in recent days. He listened to her as he tucked into his dinner, making sure that his mouth was empty of food before he spoke. “You broke up with him over pastries?”[/color] He asked, arching his eyebrow and looking at Bridget questionably. Obviously, there was probably a lot more to it and right now rambling was the easiest way to deal with it, but Dylan wasn’t going to sit there and nod falsely. There was probably a legitimate reason for the break up, but if he suspected that Bridget was simply scared of something, then he wanted to be able to encourage her to get over that fear. Still, he knew in his gut that this wasn’t what they were dealing with. “I’ve heard o’ stranger combinations than you an’ a cop. One o’ my exes was a Go-Go Dancer.”[/color] He admitted with a smirk, thinking back to those college days when relationships were more of a trend than a life commitment. Furrowing his eyebrows, Dylan loaded up his fork again and then flicked his pale eyes up to look at his dinner guest. “Relieved? How so?”[/color] He wasn’t trying to get some juicy gossip from her, but she was someone who he considered a friend and he cared.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 611
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget grinned innocently. “Are you sure, I could have sworn it was you when I was going home. Maybe it was a saw on a patio,” she suggested wiggling her brows knowingly. Bridget didn’t mind, usually didn’t even hear when Dylan was working on something out on his patio. Plus, he’d given her a couple pieces to help with storage and things. Her apartment was a good size, but the storage space was terrible. She had books lining the bedroom turned office library, not to mention all over tables and well, everywhere. There were stacks of papers she still had to grade, mixed with piles of ones she still had already marked and just needed to hand back for reference.

Bridget knew Dylan well enough to know he wouldn’t push her into talking about it, but that made her talk about it. Because she knew he wasn’t demanding to know exactly what happened, she could sort it out for herself and use him as a soundboard. It wasn’t the pastries or the lack of eating them that were the root of the issues. She gave him a bland look, “Yes, I broke up with him over pastries while drinking coffee at a Starbucks 23 blocks away,” she said sarcastically. She had needed something to keep her mind from running a million scenarios on the drive over to the coffee shop franchise. It had been the closest to his workplace and probably the furthest from hers. She didn’t want to be caught having that conversation by one of her students and then grilled for answers about it. Her personal life wasn’t any of their concern.

“A go-go dancer?” She asked, chocking back a laugh. She couldn’t picture the doctor with anyone really; probably because she rarely saw him with anyone and when she did see him with another woman, he played it off. “I don’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head and giving into the chuckles. “I’m supposed to care, Dylan. And I don’t. Not even a teeny, tiny little bit,” she admitted, forking up some more food. She really didn’t seem to care at all. The baking meant that it bothered her, but she wasn’t upset about any of it. She should have been curled up in bed wearing clothes she wore yesterday with her hair in a terrible messy bun, stuffing her face with chocolate and ice cream and yelling at the stupid couples on TV. “For two people who got along well, and had some similar tastes, we really had nothing in common,” she said, sighing. “At least I finally saw it and did something about it. I mean, I’m a vegetarian… for the most part, and he was always taking me to restaurants without an adequate menu. He didn’t listen when I said things and just barrelled through them like they didn’t really matter. And he spoke German constantly! He’s not even German! And alright, I get how practice makes perfect, but come on already!” she said stopping only long enough to sip her wine. “He would give me a weird look when I switched to French accidentally. I am French! It’s not like I always do it on purpose! He annoyed me more than he made me smile,” she finished, gulping down half of what was left in her glass.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 555
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

“It’s more than likely t’ be a saw.”

[/color] He said, nodding his head in agreement of that. He often picked up old pieces from the junk yard to restore when he had a spare few hours or whenever his boss forced him into taking some vacation days and having a rest. Most of the time he never kept the things he made, since his apartment had everything it needed, so his family and friends got surprise gifts whenever something was finished. There was an old dresser covered with a dust sheet in the spare room waiting for the day when Dylan had the time to spare to make a start on it. Right now he was busy at the hospital and his last weekend off he had gone out of the city and up north to cave dive with a few of the people he had met through his unusual hobby.

Dylan had three sisters. Two were still too young to even look at boys without going ‘ew’ at the idea of kissing one, but Georgina was nineteen and he had played the soundboard for her a few times now since her high school drama. Obviously, she spared him the details, but he was the big brother who would listen whenever she had a bad day, whereas Freddie was more likely to ignore her or go in with his fists flying at the first mention of anything untoward. He didn’t mind if Bridget rambled on about pastries or something else that was trivial, so long as it helped her move on from whatever had her in the process of opening her own bakery. “Hey, I knew a girl who broke up with her boyfriend because he wore odd socks.”[/color] He said, remembering the day his friend had told him about that. He was a brilliant doctor working in oncology now, but his girlfriend during med school had honestly broken up with him because he didn’t see the point in matching his socks every single day of the week. It was one of the few tales that had genuinely left Dylan speechless and to this day he didn’t understand the fuss.

Dylan sipped at his wine and nodded his head, inhaling deeply before letting out a deep laugh of his own. “Sasha was her name. I dated her for six months when I was a senior. I probably have a photo o’ her somewhere.”[/color] He confessed, knowing that there were a few boxes of unorganised photographs from his college days in the bottom of his wardrobe. He kept vowing that he’d get around to sorting through them and putting them in albums, but he had yet to scratch that off his to-do list.

He listened to Bridget as she spoke, continuing to eat his dinner, but nodding at regular intervals to show that he was still listening to her and not zoning out while she let go of those bothersome thoughts. He raised an eyebrow at the vanishing act with the wine, but leaned over to top up her glass nonetheless. The Irishman took a moment to savour the taste of his own drink before flicking his light blue eyes across at his dinner guest. “So, what drove you t’ baking today then, hun?”[/color] He understood that it had been the right choice for her, the relationship did not sound healthy at all, but he was curious as to what had been playing on her mind enough for her to provide him with dessert and snacks for his shift tomorrow. “An’ it sounds like he screwed up a good thing.”[/color] He added, being sincere about it all. Bridget was a great girl and she deserved a hell of a lot better than what she had just said.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 664
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s you snoring,” Bee said, tilting her head to the side, grinning. She enjoyed being in Dylan’s company, he calmed her down, made her laugh even when she didn’t want to. She still laughed about their meeting, and it still made her blush. She wasn’t embarrassed about walking into him being unable to see over the boxes in her hands, but it was in retrospect a hilarious moment. And she’d been so thankful when he helped her with the top box and invited her over for dinner when she had all her boxes taking up the entire living room. She was new to the city, didn’t know a soul more than the head of her department at NYU. Bridget had been lucky to find the apartment on her last trip up to sign the papers at the school and hunt for a place to live that wasn’t on campus. The building was a dream with the old, incredible architecture. After she’d made sure all the boxes were unloaded from her car and the moving truck, she rushed down to the local grocery and picked up everything she knew she would need for cupcakes. She couldn’t allow her new neighbour to cook or order food for her without repaying him. Thankfully, he had the bowls and she knew exactly where her cupcake tin was. Bridget knew where nothing else was, but she knew exactly where her baking tins were.

Bridget was an only child and that was probably only because her parents had had her too early and then figured such a gap in age difference wouldn’t work. Honestly, she didn’t know why her parents only had her, though she also didn’t care. Being an only child meant she got to spend more time with her parents. She got to learn all she could from her dad while playing darts in his home office with him. She got to learn every secret family recipe by heart with her mother in the kitchen since she was old enough to help out. With a sibling, she would have had to share the time she’d gotten which would have been cool, but at the same time, she would have hated having them alone for so long and then having to share them. That all meant that she’d never had anyone but her parents to talk to. It was nice having Dylan to rant to. She’d never had that before. “That’s mindboggling. But then I don’t wear matching socks half the time either,” she said with a shrug, laughing at the thought. Sometimes she just couldn’t decide what she wanted to wear, or she was in such a rush that she grabbed the first two socks if they weren’t matched up already and shoved her feet into them.

“Six months with a go-go dancer, who would have thought,” she said, shaking her head with amusement; though she had no place to judge. She was from Las Vegas. She worked at a casino from the time she was old enough. Aside from the blackjack dealer, the backup dancer and that one guy she went out with twice who played a pirate for his job, there were a couple fellow students as well. None of them had ever lasted, for different things but throughout the years, she’d made quite a mess of her love life. But a girl had to kiss a few frogs before she finally found her prince.

Bridget thought about that for a minute. She didn’t quite know what drove her to bake; she did it all the time so she didn’t know exactly what brought her to bake this time. “I’m annoyed,” she said, honestly, though she didn’t know if that was the reason. “I wish I would have seen it sooner, realized it sooner and done something about it all sooner. But I bake all the time, so who knows if that’s really the specific reason. I could have been baking because I was, I am happy this relationship is over,” she suggested, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself to her own ears. She pushed the nearly empty plate aside before dropping her head to the table top. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered into the table.

Tag || Dylan!
Words || 716
Clothes || Too Much of a Good Thing
Music || Secret Valentine --We The Kings
Notes || <3

[Dylan Ellis Griffin]

“Then, I guess you’d have t' spend the night t' find out what it really is.”

[/color] He said, matter-of-factly, rather than flirtatiously. He could be charming, but he was not a jerk who would take advantage of someone just out of a relationship with slightly confused feelings about it all. He was just happy that Bridget could talk to him about it all. He remembered what it was like to be the new kid in the big city and while that might have all happened when he was a teenager, he still reached out to those bright eyed newcomers in the city of dreams. Even if Bridget hadn’t almost given him a concussion with her moving techniques, he was pretty certain that he would’ve knocked on her door a little later and invited her around for something to eat and a drink to unwind after all general stresses that came along with moving day. When he had come to the building there had only been little Mrs Doyle and her husband on the top floor landing and she had more than happily bestowed on him pies and food galore back then. It was something that had continued throughout his time in the apartment; she would bring him whatever she had made recently to thank him for a job he had done for her, or just because she had heard him coming home late and she had leftovers to save the “poor man” from cooking. Really, of all the places in New York Dylan could’ve landed in, this apartment really was one of the best, with some wonderful neighbours to accompany it.

Dylan only had a tiny portion of his memories that didn’t have a brother or sister in it. Freddie had come along when Dylan was just three and then the brood had continued to expand well into his ma’s second marriage. Dylan had heard pretty much everything by now with the four of them combined playing his younger siblings and often showing up on his doorstep with worries or complaints. He may have been a neurosurgeon, but years of listening and dishing out advice had made him into a pretty good shrink too. “Who does? Although, most o' my socks are black, so I just grab whatever in the mornin'.”[/color] Even so, he didn’t meticulously pair them up when he did the laundry and often he could notice a slight variation in the shade of the “pair” had on.

“They were an interestin' six months.”[/color] Dylan said, raising his eyebrows as he thought back to the crazy that she had brought with her. She wasn’t the only name in his past though, and Dylan didn’t hide the fact that there had been exes and flings from Belfast to New York. There was nothing serious, though a few of those girls had slapped him along the way. Apparently they were planning a future with him without his knowledge and all of that went to shreds when the neurosurgeon called a day on the relationship. He wasn’t looking for someone to settle down with straight out of college though, and he had honestly thought they knew that since his friends so often joked about it. It wasn’t like he had led them on intentionally or toyed with their hearts just for the thrill of it; things happened, choices had to be made and it was the harsh truth at the end of the day.

Listening to Bridget some more as he finished off his meal, Dylan started to think that maybe she just needed to tell someone about all of this, just let all the frustrations out that had built up during her relationship with Koda. He reached over to run his fingers through her hair, smiling softly. “There is absolutely nothin' wrong with you. Aside from your hearin' maybe if you’re hearing these phantom snores.”[/color] He joked, hoping to bring another smile to her lips. “Hey, look at me, Bridget.”[/color] He waited until she moved her head and then smiled, dropping his hand to her shoulder now. “You see the good in people and you give them a chance. There is nothin' wrong with that and you shouldn’t put yourself down over it. So the magic wasn’t there this time? One day it will be and then all of this won’t even be worth rememberin'. Trust me; I’m a doctor.”[/color] He winked playfully and smiled softly at his neighbour, hoping that she was starting to feel a little better.
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• • •

TAGGED! Bridget!
WORDS! 788
OUTFIT! Neat Neuro
LYRICS! Mona Lisa - - - All American Rejects
NOTES! <3