Marvel: Rescuing the tiniest Alexander
[Sam was smoking like a fucking chimney, which was nothing new, yeah? Dark-skinned clove in her hand, and her hair pulled back messily. Paint wove its way through the blonde, white and almost blending into the light-dark shades of pale. She looked worried, because what the fuck hotel? Seriously, why did this shit keep happening? She'd played on the age-down rollercoaster, and that shit sucked, and she'd even gotten to keep most of the experiences in her head. But it was a sore spot with her, yeah? The aging thing, and she hugged Shane way too fucking tight, like scared little-girl tight, and then she rocked onto her red Docs and pushed inside.
Inside was frigid, and the door opened for her near the gym she'd visited with Cris. Great. They would need to take the fucking subway. She stole Shane's scarf, wrapped it snug, and she pointed in the right direction. She had some Marvel money from her last visit, and she was spending too much time in this fucking door. But she paid the fare, and she sat on the plastic subway seat and swung her legs as she played with the scarf, smoke long since discarded.]
This fucking sucks. [Ultimately, after like five fucking stops of people getting on and off with bags full of Christmas fucking cheer. She hated all the people. She was fucking nervous. She'd feel better if she knew what door Micah was staying in, yeah? So she could fucking avoid it.]