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Evan Greer (the_wanderlust) wrote in paxletalelogs,

Even with a door between her and the insistent buzzing, it seemed to swell to a cacophony in her ears, bringing a dizziness that she couldn't quite shake. This must have been what the kid with glasses in My Girl felt like. Didn't he die? And the blonde chick had a meltdown about his glasses -- she didn't have anyone within a twenty hours' drive that would even cry if she croaked. Except maybe Vince. Or Eli or Pierce, but she hardly knew any of them! Which begged the question: who in god's name would leave a box of pissed off insects for her? Death by bees? What the hell!

Hands lifted to cover her ears, to block out that incessant buzzing, she didn't even know someone else was in the hallway until he fell into the limited field of vision in her right eye. She'd asked for help, so she shouldn't have been surprised to see someone, but to have him suddenly appear like a genie drew a short, hoarse scream. Oh, okay. He was helping! That was good! So why did she still stare at him like he was just another giant bee in a human suit? Blame it on a deeply repressed sanity issue courtesy of her not-so-latent-today nymph soul. What the hell was he doing, hitting her?! ... oh! The stringers! Okay, good. She'd stop trying to wriggle away from him now.

The question about her apartment was answered with an emphatic point with a shaking finger -- you know, towards the one with the muffled buzzing sound and the shirt stuck in the door crack. Her tongue was twisted: not from allergic swelling, but from utter bewilderment. When she finally did manage to speak, her one open eye wide and piercing, all she could manage was a strangled, sobbing, "fffucking ... box of bees--!" It was like the remake of the Wicker Man with Nic Cage: ohgodnotthebeesthey'reinmyeyyyyes!