Re: #16: Juliet & Claire
If Juliet hadn't had one boot sucked deep in what had been asphalt and was now thickening like mud around her ankle -- and climbing -- she might have vomited on that grass at the thought of pizza. Grease took another couple hours of a liquid diet to tolerate and her head squeezed vice-tight as her fingers closed harder around her coffee.
Juliet? Didn't assume shit about shit: her throat rose and clenched and her heart-rate kicked out of sluggish into amped as she dug for footing, and found her leg slowly hauled in. "Yeah," gritted teeth and she dropped the coffee cup -- which sat on top of the surface without sinking, like it was somehow buoyant rather than trash.
"Don't get close." Claire with her cutsey nicknames was safer someplace at arm's length from whatever the asphalt had turned into. Juliet sinking? Her head pounded, adrenaline filled her mouth with saliva, fear co-mingled anger.
"I'm so sick," kick, but even super-strength underground did sweet fuck all to help her, "Of this supernatural shit."