Date: 2021-02-23 03:47 am (UTC)
fifthbeatle: quixotic (startled)
From: [personal profile] fifthbeatle
She nods quickly at the diner, grateful once again for a perceptive, efficient partner in fleeing the scene.

"Vanya," she responds, glancing over toward the alley again. What if the one that was down never gets back up? She didn't see any blood, but they got out of there pretty fast and she'd thrown him a good distance.

As fast as she can, she wrenches the door open and tucks herself into the car, underneath the seatbelt. If she stays put, she's going to try and listen for breathing and she can't handle what will happen if she can only hear two heartbeats in that alley. He was a creep, but he didn't deserve to die. Pogo didn't deserve to die. There are seven and a half billion souls on her conscience and right now, it feels like they're all pressing down on her. In some kind of powered panic attack, it feels like the sirens are screaming in her head. Her legs curl into her chest. She clamps her arms over her head to block out the sound. She needs to get away from them. Now.

"Please," she says, soundless to herself. "Please, I-I can't be here."
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Viktor Hargreeves

October 2024

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