Friday (Apr 6)
Only a few days had passed since Valkyrie had been shot, but it felt like an eternity. Probably because she had never been still for so long, even when drunk off her mind. She had gotten permission to move, at last, from Loki, and immediately had made for where the Big Guy was holed up.
It sort-of hurt to walk. She couldn't move at her usual pace, and her insides felt weird. She hated it. Still, if ever she should take advantage of her stir-craziness and permission to leave the house, it would be to come here. If only to say goodbye.
He looked as forlorn as she felt. Calm, too, and so Val only tapped on the glass with the utmost gentleness.
"Hey Big Guy," she murmured, leaning her forehead into the glass. She was tired. What kind of valkyrie ever got tired? A sham, probably.