Re: Hotel: Trapping Micah
Micah was under no illusion that this little meeting wasn't without its own set of risks, but he was careful to minimize those as best he could. Did he trust her to show up on her own? Only slightly, if he was honest with himself. He didn't think very highly of her, or her strength, and no doubt some of her family or friends would be close by even if she looked to be alone. So he was playing it safe. Very careful. Failure was not an option at this point in his life, after all.
While he had told her to meet him in an hour, Micah was there well before that, having found a door that wasn't too inhospitable to hide within, cracked and listening for voices in the hotel itself. It wasn't voices that gave things away, however, but the inevitable creaks and groans from an old hotel with multiple sets of feet treading upon the wooden floors. Unsteady steps upon the stairs near where he hid, other steps above, out of sight. He wasn't skilled enough to be able to tell who was there or how many had accompanied him, but the simple fact that she had brought anyone with her, willing or not, infuriated him. It was an anger that surprised him, swelling up from deep within, warming him from the inside out as he sat and waited, listening, watching.
It wasn't until he felt that things had quieted, that he could feel no movement from the hall outside the door did Micah move. It was a careful shift, painstakingly slow with the burden of the cane he still used, the door making not a sound as he opened it further. His breath was held, caught in his chest, and it wasn't until he saw that shock of dirty blond hair that any of that anger had subsided. At least she had decided to come, even if it was with company lingering elsewhere, out of sight of where he stood.
Micah glanced up above to the floor above them, wondering where her companions might have been lurking. He didn't trust them to keep any sort of peace, even if he had come unarmed, so it was imperative that he put her in the way. The careful steps grew quicker, cane held in a white-knuckled grip as he came up behind her. The positioning was deliberate; anyone who meant him harm from above or below would risk harming her as well. His free hand reached down, touching that blond hair with the tips of his fingers, and with effort he dropped into a crouch just behind her.
"You broke your promise, Sam," he said quietly, hardly even a whisper, Irish brogue thick in the dusty air of the hotel. "One stupid little promise and you can't managed that. I was trying to play nice, but you can't even keep your promise." Nostrils flared as he let out a long breath, fingers dragging down the back of her hair, tangling in a knot in those blond strands. He thought for just a moment of Maria, of the meeting, of making changes, of being better than he had been in the past, but the desire for revenge was too strong for him to attempt that just yet. Maybe later, always later.
"What happened before at that party? I wasn't in my right mind, you realise. No, not in the slightest. But now? I'm clear. I'm thinking straight. I'm not going to be playing nice any longer, and it's all-" A tug of her hair, light, fingers caught up in that knot. "-your-" Another tug, pulling his fingers free, tips grazing against her back. "-fault."