Who: Sam Wallace and Echo O’Brien What: Late lunch! Where: The London portkey for starters, and then who knows? Probably an eatery of some type at some point, though. When: Today. It’s a late lunch, so probably late afternoon. Warnings: Nah, probably not.
Sam stood in front of the New York portkey, sighing heavily and palming his face. He really wasn’t sure what he was doing here. His condition meant he couldn’t eat, so what did he do? Ask a pretty girl for a bite to eat. Stellar plan, Proton, groaned at himself. This was going to end up awkward. What exactly am I going to say when she asks why I haven’t touched my food? “Oh, well there’s this nuclear reactor taking up a huge chunk of where my internal organs should be that keeps me from eating.” Yeah, that’ll guarantee me a second date! He scrubbed his hands through his hair before stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a sweater to cover up the light the reactor churned out. “God I hope this doesn’t go bad…”
With that thought out of the way, he steeled his resolve and stepped up, activating the portkey. He felt the usual tugging motion, the jolt and the sudden stop. After that, taking another deep – and entirely unnecessary, given his sort of strange condition – breath, and began looking around for Echo. He hoped she had a good idea for a place to eat, as he’d never been to London before.