Torrie Reed (hardbitten) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-09-28 23:24:00 |
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There are windows on the far side of the conference room, and the curtains have been drawn back to let the light in. Torrie, after a few days out of the subway tunnels, has lost the urge to squint into the sun like a mole, thankfully. She has accommodated the differences of her environment in favor of seeing things through. In favor of catching up on a friendship, however poorly she's fostered it lately, and in favor of closure she wasn't aware she needed until very recently. She needed to shed some of her anger onto Chandless, or it would have eaten her up from the inside. But the funny thing is that she doesn't feel any lighter after doing it. Telling him off didn't bring Lu back, and it didn't change the months that people she cared about had to navigate through the stress of the Annihilator. She has her feet hooked up on the chair beside her, and her boots worn on the soles but acceptable enough; she made sure everything she brought from the tunnels was as clean as it could be. She doesn't want to make any more of a spectacle than necessary because there are still people she knows in the offices of this building, and people she doesn't, but they know her. It's automatic to want to protect the Reed name, especially now that she's sure word has gotten around about where she's been living. She was even on her best behavior in the DoJ, because only an idiot would prove everyone right about the ferocity and feral nature of the Ghouls beneath the city, and she's no idiot. The spread of food that they brought up with them is probably more than the both of them combined can consume, but she had been in the moment when they were picking over the buffet. There had been a lot of food she hadn't seen in a very long time, and the grumbling of her stomach spurred her on to fill the tray she'd been carrying to near capacity. Most of it will keep anyway if they don't eat it. "You look like you made it through yesterday," she says to Cal after swallowing a mouthful of rice cake, patiently waiting for the coffee she was promised to be handed to her. It had been pleasantries earlier, but she's moved on to her more typical habits now that it's just the two of them. |