Thor/Erik Blake (ex_thunderso747) wrote in marvel_united, @ 2010-06-02 18:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ms. marvel, thor |
Who: Thor and Carol
NPCs: n/a
When: 6/2
Where: Carol’s apartment, NYC
What: Carol’s finally had a breakdown, and her old comrade and doctor Thor comes running to offer a shoulder.
One benefit to being an Avenger: when Thor needed to get from one coast of the continent to the other a lot faster than he could fly by hammer, he had a card to flash and a few vague comments of national security to mutter, and suddenly, he was on the next flight to New York. It helped he was traveling light – hardly anything at all, save the clothes on his back, his wallet, and Mjolnir. And that same card and a stern glare had let him keep the mystical hammer on the plane. He supposed it had helped that it was probably well-known that he could toss any security guard who stopped him over the plane…and, of course, that as an Avenger, he was honor-bound to and certainly could handle any incident on the plane. At the moment, he rather liked being somewhat famous.
Fortunately, it was a quiet flight, and he spent it half-dozing, mulling over the whole mess of a situation. To the Norse, especially gods, there was no such thing as being an alcoholic; everyone drank, often to excess, but there wasn’t the same lack of control or need for alcohol. It was just what was done. Nor did Blake really have experience with it, either: while he was familiar – intimately, after looking at her scans – with the medical side of it, and even though drinking too much and brewing bathtub gin was a military tradition, it wasn’t something that was spoken of. Usually, people kept it quiet, until they couldn’t any longer, and no one close to Blake had gone down that slippery slope.
But now Carol had, and if he knew nothing else, had no experience with this in all his long years, he knew he had to be there for her.
All things considered, the flight didn’t take long, and in no time, he was striding out of the airport and grabbing a free taxi – he’d looked up her address back in California, and if he’d known how to get there, he would have flown. Indeed, traffic being what it was, he almost regretted his decision. But he would have spent far more time looking for it than sitting in traffic, and he didn’t want to be any more open about this than he already was; no need to have this visit splashed over the society pages. This was the downside to that card and fame.
But then he was paying the cabbie and trotting up the steps, and it went completely out of his mind as he stood in front of her door. All that mattered was that she needed him, and he’d come. Gently knocking, he called softly, “Carol?”