- (sonrisa) wrote in repose, @ 2018-02-08 01:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, pj ramsey, steve mcrory |
Log, Carriage House: PJ R & Steve M
Who: PJ Ramsey & Steve McRory
What: uh, meeting?
Where: the Carriage House
When: just after this
Warnings/Rating: TBA
He didn't know what he was holding. Flat, smooth, and glass, the rectangle bore a number he didn't recognize. It was ten digits and started with +1. The fact that there was a voice coming through it led Steve to believe it was a telephone, but he'd never seen anything like it in his life, and as far as he knew, telephone numbers didn't work that way. He very carefully set it down on the bed he was standing next to. He said nothing, because he didn't know if he should, and he looked around, trying to place himself. At least the house looked normal. Old, but normal. Except for… whatever that square thing was beneath the window, with a knob and a grate. Some kind of modern radiator? Steve didn't inspect it. He didn't like the look of the outlets either, now that he looked at them. His outfit, too, seemed odd—strange looking jeans that sat too low on his hips and a shirt made of some material he couldn't name—maybe it was the same stuff his suit was made out of? Was he in a safe house? On one of Stark's properties? He moved toward the door to the bedroom, but he found himself face-to-face with his reflection before he got too far. There was a mirror, sitting on the bedside table, and he was—he had a beard. His hair was shorn. Was he taken prisoner? Was this some German scheme? But the voice on the phone had been speaking English, and why would they give a POW a telephone, if that's what that thing was? On guard, he opened the bedroom door, and slipped out, as much as a man of his size could slip anywhere.—There didn't seem to be anyone else around. He crept downstairs. He'd just reached the landing when he heard a voice. |