Re: Log: Sleepy Brielle/Professor Charles/Captain Steve
[Steve nodded at the thank you, but that was it. It was done. He followed behind the tread of the chair as it dimpled the carpeting that moved into darkness, down the hallway where no lights shined. When Charles opened the door to the bedroom he said Brielle was in, Steve wondered vaguely if he ought to have brought his shield. But it was too late, regardless. They were here, the low gold in the room spilled outward from the split of door and frame, flowing out and splashing up the creases of Charles' pant legs and lapping at Steve's scuffed shoes.
He took a deep breath, reached over Charles, to send the door inwards and completely open. He stepped behind the man in the chair, his feet firm, his tread careful, prepared. He peeked in, unseen—the only thing in the resplendent decadence of the room was a woman in her bed, barely upright, speaking gentle words into the Fitzgerald splendor. (His mind sent him immediately to the otherworldly descriptions in The Diamond as Big as the Ritz.) He let her take in Charles, unassuming in his wheelchair, as he remained almost fully in the hallway, not wanting to set her on an immediate defensive.
But his muscles were coiled, tight, ready to spring. He nodded at Charles.]