Re: eddie/muerte quicklog
But the pierogi. How can you turn those away? [Her smile curled a little more, a soft satisfaction at the thought of being fed by any of the old babushki in the area. Some of them recognized who (what) she was, and offered a meal at their tables to show their favor and respect. Not only the Russians. She'd eaten at any number of tables. And enjoyed all of them. Of all the things about Earth she missed the most, she'd missed so much of the food.
The answer finally came, and she stepped closer with a nod. It was only a little stressful to juggle a sleeping toddler from her hip to his, and when she smiled again, it was softer, pleased that some of the strain fled Eddie's expression with the weight of the child in his arms. She knew why it was there, in the fuzzy, back-of-the-mind knowing she had about everyone. In the passing time, she'd come to separate that fuzzy knowing from the sharp knowledge of things being asked and told.] He'll drool. He's a menace to your suit. Drool monster. [The last was said softer, to Marcus, a hand smoothing over dark, tight curls.
And then she was walking again, leading the three of them to a room with rocking chairs and cribs, nodding to one of the chairs and taking one of her own close by. She waited to talk, to see if Eddie would sit and settle before continuing.] I do. I'm multitasking at the moment. I like seeing happiness. [But the rest of the questions - those were the ones that drew up the depth, the age, and her thougths went a bit distant as she stared through him, wondering how much to say.] I went to The End. [The capitals were audible. And she paused, gaze a trillion miles away.] And then I was here again. [She sharpened, focused, and smiled.] This is almost a vacation for me now. [Punctuated by a loose shrug.]