Alkaid packed her things - the star charts she'd made outside (which were safe in her neat little notebook) her pillowcase, a cracked bat, a few pens and, of course, her general can-do attitude. She was ready to kick tonight's ass, however she could.
Problem was, she hadn't quite made plans with anyone. She hadn't gotten around to asking the damn eyepatch if he wanted to do anything with her, and Haseo was probably out with Endrance, and - and - ... well, guess she was goin' it alone for the night. Which was fine, she didn't care. She worked faster alone anyway. 'Least that's what she was telling herself, pushing a creeping sense of loneliness aside.
Her PC's clothes... they felt, like, kinda fresh and new. Comfortable as waffles on a cold winter morning, or something. Made her smile. Made her nostalgic. A little. Smelled a little bit like she imagined Lumina Cloth might smell. Hot nights, palm trees, bits and bytes and that big, beautiful moon.
She skipped the fan, as was becoming usual, and grabbed her bag of stuff. Oh, and her flashlight. And she stepped out. Maybe she'd meet someone new. Maybe tonight would turn out wonderfully.
As she left, some of the Head Doctor's words, back before the lights went out and he wasn't acting all stark raving mad, rang out in her head again: Certain patients... for re-trials. That was what this place used for the word 'torture session' - right?
Eeehh, she'd find a way to save whoever she had to save. Endrance wasn't getting top billing tonight, that was for sure.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/841908.html?thread=67734196#t67734196)]
f25.
Problem was, she hadn't quite made plans with anyone. She hadn't gotten around to asking the damn eyepatch if he wanted to do anything with her, and Haseo was probably out with Endrance, and - and - ... well, guess she was goin' it alone for the night. Which was fine, she didn't care. She worked faster alone anyway. 'Least that's what she was telling herself, pushing a creeping sense of loneliness aside.
Her PC's clothes... they felt, like, kinda fresh and new. Comfortable as waffles on a cold winter morning, or something. Made her smile. Made her nostalgic. A little. Smelled a little bit like she imagined Lumina Cloth might smell. Hot nights, palm trees, bits and bytes and that big, beautiful moon.
She skipped the fan, as was becoming usual, and grabbed her bag of stuff. Oh, and her flashlight. And she stepped out. Maybe she'd meet someone new. Maybe tonight would turn out wonderfully.
As she left, some of the Head Doctor's words, back before the lights went out and he wasn't acting all stark raving mad, rang out in her head again: Certain patients... for re-trials. That was what this place used for the word 'torture session' - right?
Eeehh, she'd find a way to save whoever she had to save. Endrance wasn't getting top billing tonight, that was for sure.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/841908.html?thread=67734196#t67734196)]