Rooms

[Jason T.]

She okay?

Who: Loren & Sam
What: Hospital visits
Where: Oceans 11 Door
When: Nowish?
Warnings: TBD

[This door was familiar in the way that too many years in Vegas had been familiar. Winters still got cold, even in the desert, and Loren bundled up in clean suit for the occassion, blue on blue. Slate and navy. Vegas wasn't the kind of place that he wanted to visit ever again, there were too many twisted memories there, too many buried bodies, burnt bodies, too many casualties in the name of vendetta. But this door wasn't his Vegas, and he'd long ago stopped worrying about people recognizing him or looking for him. When the world thought that you were dead, that gave a man a lot of leeway.

The hospital was easy to find, the hotel gave Loren a door that was only a few blocks down from the hospital, and that made things easier than fishing for a cab in streets he didn't trust. Inside the hospital, he approached the front desk and asked after Sam, gave her social security number, her middle name. Loren had the kind of face that was almost always still, but there was a permanent sadness to his blue eyes that didn't have to be feigned. It apparently made nurses feel bad for him, and the lady frowned as she typed in the details on her keyboard

The nurse apologized then, saying that at this point in Sam's assessment, family was only allowed to visit. Loren smiled, warm but not too warm, a warmth that was sad like worry could be cured if he tried hard enough. It was for the sake of the desk nurse, Loren wasn't worried about Sam. He'd spoken to her, she was alive, that seemed like good news. She wasn't in surgery or trauma, and that meant that if he was close enough, he could visit her.] She's my fiance. [He explained the believable. The nurse, predictably sighed and apologized and motioned him for the correct hall.

They even gave him a little sticky badge that said visitor. He hadn't been expecting the guards at Sam's door, and Loren gave pause before them, having already sized them up on his walk across bleached tile.] Name? [One of the men asked while holding out his hand like he expected a wallet to confirm such things were all legal and documented.]

Loren. [It was calmly stated, no smile for them. These guards were no small time security, and Loren wondered where they had come from because they sure as hell didn't seem like cops. One had a thick neck, and Loren contemplated the kind of pressure it would take to snap it, just in the strange way that a mind can wander to contemplate space and time, sometimes Loren wondered about different methods of unjustified murder. He had issues, he'd accepted them. Then the man handed Loren's wallet back and gestured him into the hospital room where Sam was. She'd apparently requested him and gone through all of the chennels with Goon 1 and Goon 2. There was a glace between the two guards that Loren caught on his way inside. Maybe it was Loren's posture or his smooth stride or just the fact that he looked like the kind of guy who was ready to stare down a gun barrel with a slow blink. If the men were imagiative enough, maybe they thought he was some kind of investigator. But Sam had requested him, and here he was, no problem.]

Hey. [His voice broke the silence, unsure if she'd fallen asleep since their phonecall.]

Who: Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter
What: Ice Skating of course.
Where: Rockefeller Center
When: Christmas Day!

( Merry Christmas, Ice Skating Rink! Merry Christmas, Movie House! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan! )

[text to eddie n.]

[A selfie of her in the bathroom at the clinic wearing those purple scrubs (with green question marks!) that he'd gotten her for Christmas.]

[locked to selina k.]

Good Christmas?

[locked to harley q.]

I definitely need somewhere to wear those earrings.

[locked to dick g.]

So apparently someone donated a shit ton to my clinics. Now who could that be? ♥

[Locked to Eddie N]
If I didn't know better? I'd think you were avoiding me.

[After this]

[Locked to Harley Q]
You sew all of those hideous jester outfits of yours, don't you?


[Locked to Jonathon C]
Its been awhile. I want to know if you're being a good witch or a bad witch.

[Post-this.]

what, you don't believe there's such a thing as overkill?

[Post-stockings. Way post-Christmas, really. Left in the public foyer of Stark Tower, with a personalized (read: bar-coded) tag that eventually denotes Rocket as the sender.

It's a human-sized, custom laser pistol fitted with controls that are designed to accommodate Tony's clumsy grip. There's even a temperature gauge capable of assessing the user's mood and assigning appropriate firepower in accordance with their particular desire for violence and/or vengeance. Shield-penetrative capabilities are subtle, but present.

Also, the handwritten note:] You dick. Props!

[Text to Neil D]

Those were entirely too much. You really shouldn't have.

Is everyone alright? I didn't want to pry, but I'm worried.

[Public]

Does anyone still do New Years Resolutions?

[Locked to Sam A, or whomever has her journal currently.]

Having second thoughts?

[locked to max m.]

Thanks.

[locked to jack c.]

I think you win for most creative gift.

[locked to dylan m.]

So, I got a PS4 for Christmas, but I don't know anyone out of high school who plays. What's your gamertag?

ETA: [locked to thomas b.]

She told me what you gave I said no dead p

Wren says you're coming to see the kids.

Who: Song Mingmei and OPEN, but can be a narrative if no one tags in
Where: Through the DC Door, in Gotham, at a local restaurant
When: Today, Tuesday, December 30, dinner time
What: Mingmei is taking some time to herself and explores a new restaurant for a change
Status: OPEN, but can be complete as a narrative

( She needed a change...not everything should be the same as it always was... )

[Once she's back in the Chinatown apartment, and after CPS comes around asking questions about Emily's disappearance.]

[Locked to Jason T]
Hey. Everything okay?