[ She stalks onto the elevator, hugging herself tightly, shivering. It's too cold for this shit. It's too cold for any shit, really, since she's apparently somewhere with real winter, but she's particularly not impressed with this specific shit, namely, waking up in the hospital with a faint black eye and bruises she can't explain and generally being sore all over.
Rachel starts to reach for the panel, for the button for the lobby, but it's already pressed. She spares a glance at the elevator's other occupant, nodding politely. ]
Getting the hell out of here, too?
ii. the police station.
[ Her belongings hit the waiting area floor with a loud clatter.
Walking here in this real winter with her ass hanging out of a flimsy hospital gown has not helped anything. She's got real clothes on, finally, but she's not sure she trusts that her stuff's been handled well. Time for an inventory!
She picks up items one by one--hair brush, reporter's notebooks, pens, pepper spray, etc etc--organizing everything neatly in her leather messenger bag. Everything's here, but nothing seems to explain what's going on or what happened to her.
Eventually all her things are back in her bag, which she closes securely. She's still cross-legged on the floor. She reaches up, her hand crossing her forehead, one thumb at her temple and her fingers rubbing the other one. ]
iii. main street.
[ Main Street. The center of her town. It's familiar enough, she supposes.
But she has this odd sense of not quite belonging. It's weird. She doesn't know what to do about it.
She walks slowly along the sidewalk, pausing at every window, peering in, reading the lettering on the glass or above the doors. Her arms are folded across her chest, not from closing herself off, but to ward off the chill--her jacket isn't really much of a barrier, it's meant for warmer weather.
Maybe she needs more rest. Maybe she should go home--she has the key, inexplicably given to her at the police station. Or maybe she'll just keep examining storefronts, hoping one of them gives her a clue or shakes something loose. ]
Rachel Conway | Original
[ She stalks onto the elevator, hugging herself tightly, shivering. It's too cold for this shit. It's too cold for any shit, really, since she's apparently somewhere with real winter, but she's particularly not impressed with this specific shit, namely, waking up in the hospital with a faint black eye and bruises she can't explain and generally being sore all over.
Rachel starts to reach for the panel, for the button for the lobby, but it's already pressed. She spares a glance at the elevator's other occupant, nodding politely. ]
Getting the hell out of here, too?
ii. the police station.
[ Her belongings hit the waiting area floor with a loud clatter.
Walking here in this real winter with her ass hanging out of a flimsy hospital gown has not helped anything. She's got real clothes on, finally, but she's not sure she trusts that her stuff's been handled well. Time for an inventory!
She picks up items one by one--hair brush, reporter's notebooks, pens, pepper spray, etc etc--organizing everything neatly in her leather messenger bag. Everything's here, but nothing seems to explain what's going on or what happened to her.
Eventually all her things are back in her bag, which she closes securely. She's still cross-legged on the floor. She reaches up, her hand crossing her forehead, one thumb at her temple and her fingers rubbing the other one. ]
iii. main street.
[ Main Street. The center of her town. It's familiar enough, she supposes.
But she has this odd sense of not quite belonging. It's weird. She doesn't know what to do about it.
She walks slowly along the sidewalk, pausing at every window, peering in, reading the lettering on the glass or above the doors. Her arms are folded across her chest, not from closing herself off, but to ward off the chill--her jacket isn't really much of a barrier, it's meant for warmer weather.
Maybe she needs more rest. Maybe she should go home--she has the key, inexplicably given to her at the police station. Or maybe she'll just keep examining storefronts, hoping one of them gives her a clue or shakes something loose. ]