(no subject)

[collects_strays]

Graham had meant to enter his kitchen, but the bar is just as well. The rooms of his house were still mostly bare – Alana had left a couple boxes near the front door, along with his dogs, but they only held clothing. He expected his cupboards would still be empty, as well. After the cabin, the sheet glass and empty wells and the man in the tree, after talking to Alana, he's more and more ready to have his first drink since his arrest.

At least now he won't have to drive through the snow to find it.

Instead, he picks up a glass of whiskey at the bar, and takes a seat in an empty booth, away from the main room. Winston, reluctant to leave his side since his return, settles down on the floor next to his bench. Graham pulls his glasses out of his coat, and puts them on, keeping his eyes down, attention focused on the corner of the table. But occasionally, he allows himself to glance down, and check on the dog.

Comments

[gifted_profiler]

The new house is too quiet without Catherine. Without Jordan.

Even his pager is silent, which gives him too much time alone with his thoughts. Peter had said that he'd be hearing from his new partner soon; Frank's not sure what to think of that, but the fact remains that the Group's a large part of what's keeping him together right now.

He opens the front door with the intent of checking for the evening paper, and stops, surprised.

After a moment, he steps into Milliways, and lets the door swing shut behind him.

[collects_strays]

Winston lifts his head when the door opens, peering up to watch the newcomer.

Graham doesn't look over. But he does reach out, and gently pats the dog's head.

[gifted_profiler]

He lets his glance pass over the room out of pure habit, checking for people he knows, just in case.

(Sylar hasn't been seen in a while; by all reports, the man's gone missing from the Milliways environs. It doesn't matter to Frank; better safe than sorry.)

He doesn't spot anyone he recognizes, but a second or two after he notes the man with the dog, his attention swings slowly back to them.

[collects_strays]

I had faith you'd find me.

It's a dim echo, a thought that fades before it's finished. Graham had felt the hum of attention before he'd looked up, and when he does, a sharp awareness washes over him. The volume of the bar room spikes, lights flash bright in his eyes, which snap down again almost at once.

Winston, on the other hand, stands and wags his tail. He still doesn't leave Graham's side, but appears perfectly friendly to the stranger.

[gifted_profiler]

"Good dog."

His voice is low and gravel-rough, but his tone is mild.

Although his words are directed toward Winston, his attention is on the man at the table.