Russ C (greasemonkey) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-11-23 19:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *log, russ campbell, sam alexander |
Quicklog: Russ & Sam - immediate post argument
Louis's building smelled like new paint and clean carpet as Russ barreled through the corridor and took the stairs instead of the elevator, boots over concrete. It hadn't been his idea, shove them all into a room and strike a fucking match but the place had gone up ablaze with unspoken arguments and resentment held tight like a fucking teddy-bear. He didn't know how long Sam had been holding onto that shit, long enough that it rang true and it rang wrong, long enough to be frustrating, half-truths to bail out on. The door slammed, thunked against the wall and juddered back into place and he was reaching for the cigarette packet the second he bounced from the kind of place cops lived out into the street which smelled a little less like clean living.
Don't follow me, she'd ordered like she could reorder the fucking world, tell them both what they thought and how they fucking felt, take her resentment home and snuggle up tight to it. Russ wasn't planning on it, hadn't thrust himself out the building for anything other than to feel like he could breathe right without disappointment backing him up against the wall - but the bright gold of Sam's hair up ahead and he shoved the cigarette packet back in his coat pocket and caught up with four or five long strides.
"Hey," he said and he didn't reach out to touch the back of her shoulder but he put all the pissed energy he had into falling into step. Where the fuck she was going, he didn't know, New York was a morass of dark cloud overhead and the sharp ozone of rain coming soon and scuffed sidewalk underfoot, a hustle of people on each corner.