A long climb, but no plateau awaits
Methos wasn't the only one who could decide to be antisocial. At least Zuko did more then eat the food-- he got the party started, and then took his leave. Was getting to be a pattern, he realized: Getting things going... but the follow through was getting damned hard.
He hobbles up the stairs in the silence; the building is safe now, most people are down in the lower levels, so he is alone for his trek-- something he's thankful for when the ache in his legs make him stop on the eighth floor and pant for breath. But he presses on, till he's walking the fifteenth floor...
And stops and opens the door to 1505.
It's Mel's space; really, he knows it. It's why he's up here. Nobody would think he'd hide in her cubbyhole, really. But there is a hammock, and Harth's comics, and the smell of rainwater eating at the glass...
Dropping into the hammock, he lays there, eyes on the window-- seemingly entranced by the the patter of droplets again the window.
His mind is a thousand miles away.
He hobbles up the stairs in the silence; the building is safe now, most people are down in the lower levels, so he is alone for his trek-- something he's thankful for when the ache in his legs make him stop on the eighth floor and pant for breath. But he presses on, till he's walking the fifteenth floor...
And stops and opens the door to 1505.
It's Mel's space; really, he knows it. It's why he's up here. Nobody would think he'd hide in her cubbyhole, really. But there is a hammock, and Harth's comics, and the smell of rainwater eating at the glass...
Dropping into the hammock, he lays there, eyes on the window-- seemingly entranced by the the patter of droplets again the window.
His mind is a thousand miles away.