Night 61: F1-F10 Hallway

[a_sin_for_him]

Whatever else had happened, night had fallen. Lust had a mission and there was no further time to waste on megrims and foolish wondering.

She changed out of the institute uniform and into her black dress, using the small bit of time to get her wits about her. Scar didn't need to see her distressed or distracted. And he didn't need to know about the conversation before dinner or the letter she'd been given. Those were personal things.

Of course, there were a great many things she had decided that Scar didn't actually need to know about. Most of them relating to occurrences back home. It would only cause problems and at the moment he was grudgingly open to working with her. The homunculus wanted to keep that arrangement as long as she possibly could.

Besides...there were things that would hurt him even worse than he already was.

Finished with her preparations, Lust took with her only the torch and the radio.


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Comments

[F8]

[ninelivesonce]

Earrings, throwing star, claws, magic rock, stunner, flashlight radio. Taura had to get a better way to carry all this than a flimsy fashion purse and a belt pressed into service around her upper arm. Except the earrings. Those she could wear, though a smear of blood on one ear pointed to the fact that, even if everything else was weaker, she healed faster here.

At least they'd left the military uniforms, which were practically barbaric in terms of fireproofing and construction, but fit like a uniform. Clothing meant something. Every piece of cloth told a story, and soldier was the only story Taura had ever found fit properly, with everyone. Oh, sometimes she wore other things, and Miles thought she couldn't see the way the skin crinkled around his eyes when she'd chosen poorly, but she learned quickly, and he did try. All they needed were more opportunities to practice, really, but that wasn't up to her.

And brooding wasn't likely to turn up a clever plan, given that she wasn't a hyperactive admiral who could do fifteen things at once, even if fourteen of them could best be described as sulking. She jogged out the door and down the hall to their meeting point.

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