Re: [Quicklog: Louis/Peggy]
[Dead on his feet?] Not at all. [Not true. He absolutely felt it, the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders, but it would hardly tax him to offer her a little help.
He didn't expect, however, that the help would be required all the way down into the subway tunnel, far from the platform. Every step they walked, he thought, Surely, this is it. If he were not so beaten and tired, if he were not running from thoughts of nightmare every pace, he would have realized what a terrible idea all of this was. He was numb inside, and therefor the danger seemed far away compared with broken women and monsters without faces. Random is safe, that cut through the tranquility like a rock dropped into a pond.] Sorry? [But she was already moving away from him, and he only just managed to keep pace.
When they stopped, he looked at the number pad in front of him, then back down toward the platform. They'd come a good way off the tracks. Did this woman mean to harm him? Why? He should have stayed behind, ceased to follow when she veered up to a dead end with a pair of key pads. This was Marvel - she might work for the city of New York in some capacity, but it was doubtful with that accent. She could be with anyone.
But he was just too frazzled for this. He looked back at her. If he put in the number she asked, perhaps that would be all. He couldn't even contemplate how many ways this could go wrong. Later, he would wonder if he would need to explain at a trial why he had helped a stranger open a door in an abandoned subway tunnel. The answer? Exhaustion and the misfortune of good breeding. She'd asked for help, and he'd agreed to extend it.
His unease was plain on his face.] And the number? [At last, his eyes narrowed in skeptical assessment.] Where does this door lead?