Re: log, Harlem: Selina K/Steve R
[She doubted. She'd been through the plague. She'd seen death ushered in by her own claws, and she was only glad she hadn't brought it on this time. When those first reports came in? She wanted to go home. She wanted to say fuck logic, and she wanted to go home and crawl under blankets in the first place that had really felt like home in a very long time. She'd wanted that, but she'd stayed, and she hadn't made anything worse. And for once? For once she wasn't left feeling guilty.
Instead, she was here in this city turned into hell, and she wondered if they'd closed it off yet. No one in, no one out, and whoever survived inside survived. It seemed cruel, and it seemed harsh, but it was probably a necessity to keep this entire world from going down. She thought it was a lot like zombies, actually, but she didn't think Stevie would enjoy hearing that, so she didn't say it.
Instead, her hand trembled as she waited for him to speak. The goggles reassuringly informed her that no, he wasn't Ra's, and that was probably Eddie bullshitting her, that function, to make her calmer. And yet it worked, and she managed to smile just a little.] You sing? [It was unexpected and sweet, and she inhaled.] How's Tony? How's Robert? How's your girl, Brooklyn? [The world became small when it started to close in, and she remembered that feeling, just like she remembered the carrion-smell of Tony Stark's body.] Tell Bruce you saw me, and I was okay. [A kind lie, maybe.]