If Badd had known that Byrne was sticking tags all over town that were only visible to a gang of complete strangers he'd have been annoyed. He wouldn't admit to himself that there was something heartwarming about Byrne labeling his own home as "Badd's", with Badd's actual apartment labeled "Badd's second house". Towards the end he'd spent as much time working from Byrne's living room as he did at his own kitchen table. After Byrne died he'd moved into his partner's home completely, having inherited his lease along with his possessions. Besides, a cramped bachelor's apartment was no place for a child growing larger and more independent with each passing day.
Byrne's apartment was in a nicer part of the station than what Badd could afford on a detective's salary. The complex was painted the pale blue of Earth's sky and its facade hinted at machiya lattices. The lobby had walls covered in murals of Hokusai's "Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji" and a discrete yet tasteful set of ferns near the elevator.
Badd had moved in all necessary items from his own place and dumped or sold the rest. He hadn't replaced any of Byrne's things...no heart to throw out the bed where he'd held Byrne's warmth against his chest until they fell asleep, or box up the mando-related artifacts he'd treated with such sacred importance.
One morning he'd found Byrne's travel toothbrush, held it over the garbage bin, and then found himself setting it right back on the shelf. It was pathetic, he knew. It was a toothbrush. But he wasn't ready to let go yet.
(It should have been him. He was almost a decade and a half older, and he was the one who got shot at by criminals on a semiregular basis. He was supposed to die first. It wasn't right.)
In that vein, and because no one had commented on it yet, he hadn't gotten around to changing the building's directory. If Novoc were to start cycling through names on the call box by the lobby he'd find the name "Byrne Faraday" listed in the system.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-12-18 04:31 pm (UTC)Byrne's apartment was in a nicer part of the station than what Badd could afford on a detective's salary. The complex was painted the pale blue of Earth's sky and its facade hinted at machiya lattices. The lobby had walls covered in murals of Hokusai's "Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji" and a discrete yet tasteful set of ferns near the elevator.
Badd had moved in all necessary items from his own place and dumped or sold the rest. He hadn't replaced any of Byrne's things...no heart to throw out the bed where he'd held Byrne's warmth against his chest until they fell asleep, or box up the mando-related artifacts he'd treated with such sacred importance.
One morning he'd found Byrne's travel toothbrush, held it over the garbage bin, and then found himself setting it right back on the shelf. It was pathetic, he knew. It was a toothbrush. But he wasn't ready to let go yet.
(It should have been him. He was almost a decade and a half older, and he was the one who got shot at by criminals on a semiregular basis. He was supposed to die first. It wasn't right.)
In that vein, and because no one had commented on it yet, he hadn't gotten around to changing the building's directory. If Novoc were to start cycling through names on the call box by the lobby he'd find the name "Byrne Faraday" listed in the system.