Dejah Thoris (
dejah_thoris) wrote2015-07-29 07:44 pm
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[M'ways] Room 1001
It was after dinner and she'd finished up her work for the day. She shook out her hand, stretched the muscles of her fingers, hoping that the tendon would stretch with it. It hurt more and more with each passing day, but she had other things to worry about. Curtis was supposed to meet her after he'd worked out and checked on Edgar.
That was two hours ago. She finally broke down and touched two fingers to her bracelet. It pulsed blue and she got the sense he was in his room. Strange. She touched it again, just to be sure. No, he was there. Alive and attached to the pendant.
She decides to go down and say hello, find out if everything's okay. A few minutes later, she's knocking at his door.
"Curtis?"
That was two hours ago. She finally broke down and touched two fingers to her bracelet. It pulsed blue and she got the sense he was in his room. Strange. She touched it again, just to be sure. No, he was there. Alive and attached to the pendant.
She decides to go down and say hello, find out if everything's okay. A few minutes later, she's knocking at his door.
"Curtis?"
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Okay, Curtis tried to tell himself. Not a big deal. Edgar's an adult; he had a curfew his whole damn life before Milliways took them in; Christ knows Curtis would want to run around, too, if he were in the same place.
(Except for how antsy Edgar got his fist night at the faintest suggestion he sleep in his own room. Or that they stay in separate cells after that fight with Tars.)
He worked out, but quit twenty minutes in so he could go take another loop through the bar. Then a second one outside. And another through the bar, then half a loop by the lake before the open space started getting to him, then a check-in with Bar (no, he hasn't been by, I'm sorry, Mr. Everett), and then just -- going back to their room and pacing around in there, hoping that wherever the fuck Edgar is, he'll drop by room 1001 at some point.
The pulse of his pendant shakes him out of it, but only briefly. Shit. He was supposed to meet Dejah. Okay, give it another fifteen minutes, just to make sure, then --
He's at the door an instant after she knocks, yanking it open before her voice registers.
"...Dejah." Curtis' face is drawn, his shoulders knotted. He's not disappointed to see her -- he could never be disappointed -- but fuck, it's not Edgar. "Shit. Hey."
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