InsaneJournal

Who: Teddy/Drake, Natasha, Alex
What: THE BIRDS!
Where: Natasha's apartment/surrounding area
When: morning



Teddy wasn't entirely certain what had woken him up, his nose buried in the unfamiliar pillow, his hip and shoulder pressing into something hard and unforgiving. When his eyes opened, all he saw was darkness for a moment. Not his room, that much he knew for certain. After a few seconds of listening, his brain recognizing the sound of a second person's gentle breathing. His memory seemed to reassert itself then, recalling everything that had happened the night before. Natasha's place. Natasha's room. Natasha sleeping on the bed behind him. He sat up partway, his body stiff and aching in protest, though he remained quiet. His hand drifted near where his head had been, searching for the comm device he knew was here. When his fingers found it, they navigated to the button at the top, sheltering the device with the blanket he'd been using so as not to allow the light to travel too far. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his lovely host.

Seven in the morning. Seventy-five percent charge on his comm. No new military notifications.

A quick glance around the room, searching for a digital clock or any other indication that the power had come back on, came up negative. Carefully and quietly he moved, sliding up onto his feet and gently stepping toward the door. There was a notable change of temperature as he slid it open, careful not to let too much light in, or heat out as he squeezed through. He lingered, just for a second, glancing at the bed to make sure he hadn't woken her up, then quietly closed the door behind him. The apartment was cold, though not quite as bad as he might have feared. He wished he'd grabbed his longer shirt, or his socks at least, but didn't want to chance a return trip that might cause her to stir. The sounds of the weather had dissipated, and the windows seemed perfectly intact. Even from the distance he could see that the sky outside was slowly starting to lighten. Maybe the storm was actually over.

He ducked into the bathroom, testing the faucet really quick to make sure that the water was running. No frozen pipes, which was good, but no hot water. The comm device was left on the sink with the screen aimed up, illuminating the whole room. He should have grabbed one of the flashlights, but there was nothing to do about it now. He used the restroom, washed his hands, and took advantage of the bottle of mouth wash there. He drifted into the main room afterward, pulling the table away from the window and setting it back up. After, he moved to pull back one of the curtains a little, not wanting to disturb the insulation they provided too much. The streets were covered in a thick layer of white, even visible in the near-darkness outside. There were a few people outside attempting to clear walkways, or assess whatever damage had accumulated with their buildings or the vehicles below, but it looked like no one had power yet.

Letting the curtain drift close again, he moved to sit on the couch, checking the comms for any other announcements. No trams yet, but workers were being acquired to clear the streets. Progress. Good.