Spencer Hastings thinks you need a babysitter (worry) wrote in zombieslogs,
Spencer knew that Caroline's words were meant to be uplifting but Spencer herself could feel nothing but the cold. She had been numb to it on the way to the pharmacy but now it had sunk in, filled up her bones and moved in for the winter. Now is the winter of our discontent, Spencer thought idly. Leave it to her to be thinking up Shakespeare quotes in a time of distress.
Richard the third, Act I. She could conjure up all kinds of recollections of history and literature and world cultures and geography and arithmetic and calculus. She had a big old brain that scared some of the rest of her friends. But a fat lot of good her brain did when it came to do or die. There was a reason it wasn't called think or die.
"I'd like to go back to the prison now," Spencer said icily. She looked up then at Caroline. She could bask in the warmth of her golden hair and her soft blue eyes. Caroline was good. She was a vampire so that was a tough pill for Spencer to swallow but she was a good vampire. Better than some of the people Spencer knew anyway.
"Thanks." She let Caroline help her up to her feet and she brushed the dust and dirt off of the seat of her jeans. She gingerly took the photograph that was covered in creases from Spencer's temper. She smoothly folded it in half and stuck it in her jacket pocket before nodding at Caroline that she was ready to go.