Excellent/terrible? (Josie, Peter)
Hospital, Stephie’s orders had been. Hospital, fight, and then come home, Josie.
Josie didn’t know how. She wanted to. She wanted to exorcise the demonhood out of her. She wanted to figure out a way to save herself. Fix herself. Stop herself doing stupid shit that would only lead to her hurting Stephie again, or Jinx, and losing them both.
She was so fucking staggered that Jinx hadn’t left her after what she’d done to Stephie. So fucking staggered. And grateful. And desperate to stop anything like it happening again.
Josie didn’t leave her room at the hospital a whole lot – too much of a chance of running into angels, who she couldn’t handle, or humans. She could handle humans sometimes. If they were calm. And if there were only a few of them. She felt too sensitive these days, like their emotions shoved their souls right up in her face begging her to take them. So when she left her room, she usually did it at night. People around the hospital weren’t really calmer at night, but there were less of them in the corridors.
She made her way up to Peter’s office, doubting he would be there. Sometimes he was, this late at night, but she wasn’t counting on it. Josie let herself in (the door was locked, but she had her ways) and poked around for a moment nosily, but the most exciting thing in Peter’s office was still the skull.
There might also be hidden booze, but Josie didn’t think that would be a great idea right now.
The view over the hospital and London from the window was also pretty good; like the view from the roof without the weather.
She could stare at the world from above for hours. And couldn’t help thinking of Ko, flying in the daylight somewhere over Russia. Some unnamed piece of her chest twanged in longing and she started to write a message for Peter like she could scribble out the feeling. I have an idea, come tell me if it’s excellent/terrible. – Josie and slapped it down onto the skull where he’d see it in the morning.
Wait, fuck – not before 10 she added as a post script, because mornings were bitches. She underlined the not for emphasis.
Yes, she could have just sent him a text, but breaking and entering spiced up the long, boring nights.