Template:Featured Articles/20-2015

Moment of Awesome - Gabriel Cohuelo: A hungover Gabriel runs into the last person in the frankenberry cat world he expected - or wanted - to see. "Dammit, Lisa," Clint said, jeans finally buttoned, laptop under one arm, shirt gaping opened. "My work ID's on the bedside table - don't make me call somebody so I can get in there legally to get it, you know I - " He didn't get a chance to finish before a window upstairs slammed open and his badge came sailing out. "Shit!" He half-dove for it, catching it before it could hit the sidewalk. "Thanks," he called, giving the irate woman in the window a small salute. He turned around to get his knapsack and saw a stranger holding it. "Oh, hey - sorry." All the shouting had caused Gabriel to clench his eyes shut and bow his head toward the ground. His temples throbbed and all he wanted was to get back to the mansion where he could down three Advil, lock his door, and pass the fuck out. "No worries. Here." His eyes flicked open, and he moved to give the backpack to this stranger. "Rough morning? He turned to look at the man, his eyes widened. The bag fell back into the puddle. "Jesus fucking Christ," he spat out, now bewildered. Maybe he was still drunk. Maybe this was a stress dream. This had to be a stress dream. There was no way this was happening. "Eh," Clint said, looking at the other man slightly askance as he bent to get his knapsack. "You could say that, yeah - both the 'rough morning' and the 'Jesus fucking Christ,'" he muttered, loosening the drawstring so he could actually open the bag. He shoved his laptop and his badge inside, then looked down at his bare feet. His tie hit the ground a few feet to the left of him. A toothbrush, several pairs of boxers, and a stack of undershirts came next. That left Clint blinking slowly. "Wow, I didn't realize how much stuff I had here. Huh. Are you alright? You look a little... not well." Gabriel stared at him, channeling most of his energy to keep his jaw from dropping. "Fine," he said half-convincingly. The man picking up the clothes now strewn about the sidewalk was — it was Clint, but not-Clint. Longer in the face, scruffier, dirtier. It's what Clint might have looked like if he had gotten to live for another decade. He knew this was bound to happen. Xorn had said as much, and he'd been saved-but-not-saved by new Miles, and new Lorna had shown up, and Wanda, and everything. But he wasn't ready for this now, if at all. "I'm fine." He wasn't. Gabriel looked back up at the man - definitely a man, that was for sure, not a boy - studying his face for something he recognized. It was there, but it wasn't there. No way. His mind was playing tricks on him. He was still under the influence. "Just fine."