flyrokinesis (flyrokinesis) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2019-03-07 10:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: may 1 - 7, ciara byrne, reagan shrike |
When will you get the picture
Who: Reagan and Ciara
What: Interception.
Where: The Blues Palace
When: Wednesday afternoon.
Reagan had stood outside of the Blues Palace for what felt like the better part of an hour (but what had, in reality, only been about two minutes, tops.) With so many fallen ill and in the earliest stages of recovery, there weren't many people out and about this afternoon, for which she was grateful; that meant there was no one around to witness her restless, awkward loitering.
Her fingers were curled like dead spider's legs around the torc ring adorning her right hand, moving it in full rotations around her middle finger as she deliberated going inside. It wasn't the biggest thing, going to see Luke - she knew he was ill, she rationalized, and she'd already expressed that she was worried about him. So what if she happened to stop by? So what if the Palace was out of the way from every place she would reasonably have to be? Maybe he'd be too delirious to realize that she'd also taken off work to do so.
Or maybe he wouldn't.
She drew a deep breath. She was never one to tolerate idle foolishness, least of all in herself. Pull it together, she scolded, and finally thrust her hand out to wrap around the door handle, hesitating to draw a deep breath before she finally rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin, and in with a burst of faux-confidence.
The dim lighting of the space initially startled her contracted pupils so that she froze in the doorway, suddenly appearing more like a startled deer than a proud business-woman, her mouth pulled uncertainly to the side. Her hair a loose cascade around her shoulders, she was dressed in a moss green ensamble that was muted enough not to draw immediate attention to her... or rather, it wouldn't have had there been anyone around to see her.
The lobby seemed completely vacant, and she was suddenly struck by the notion that if there was no one to see her arrive, then there was no one who would see her slip casually back out again.
But such fantasy was short-lived, and movement caught her attention. She stepped forward haltingly, cursing her own clumsiness as she made her presence known through a small coughing sound in her throat. "Excuse me?" she called, far more feebly than she had intended.