Something close to happy is suddenly mine...
It should be said that there is never actually a quiet day in Chicago. Ever. Somewhere, always, something is happening, and invariably that something has to do with explosives. It is Chicago, after all.
But there are a lot of people in Chicago, and so specific people can have quiet days. Take Michael Vaughn for instance, currently out and about in a grocery store. He's not exactly the most domestic man that ever walked the earth, but he can pull off shopping, sure thing. Nothing major, just a few necessities. Like band-aids. And larger bandages. Because he would like to be able to just slink home whenever he gets injured, and not have to make a huge deal out of little things.
Meanwhile, Scout is sitting out by the pier, her legs hanging off the side as she stares into the water. She kicks the air every now and then, and hums to herself. She wipes her nose on her sleeve--she's not sick, nuh huh, nope, but her nose is still running. A little bit.
Gladys is carting around her now-empty wagon, smiling up at the buildings and totally ignoring everything around her. The city feels perfect today--there may be explosives somewhere, but Gladys could care less at this point. She feels at home right now, and it feels wonderful.
Chance Adams is sitting against a tree in Grant Park, her eyes closed as she just listens to the light sprinkling rain on the leaves. She's tired, but happily so. A little hungry, or rather, the normal level of hungry. That's okay too.
And finally, Trinity McFasater is having coffee (not spiked, for once,) at a cafe, sitting outside despite the rain and being... calm, for once. Quiet. Reflective, even. Or maybe not.
It's a calm day for some people. But Chicago's never quiet for long.
But there are a lot of people in Chicago, and so specific people can have quiet days. Take Michael Vaughn for instance, currently out and about in a grocery store. He's not exactly the most domestic man that ever walked the earth, but he can pull off shopping, sure thing. Nothing major, just a few necessities. Like band-aids. And larger bandages. Because he would like to be able to just slink home whenever he gets injured, and not have to make a huge deal out of little things.
Meanwhile, Scout is sitting out by the pier, her legs hanging off the side as she stares into the water. She kicks the air every now and then, and hums to herself. She wipes her nose on her sleeve--she's not sick, nuh huh, nope, but her nose is still running. A little bit.
Gladys is carting around her now-empty wagon, smiling up at the buildings and totally ignoring everything around her. The city feels perfect today--there may be explosives somewhere, but Gladys could care less at this point. She feels at home right now, and it feels wonderful.
Chance Adams is sitting against a tree in Grant Park, her eyes closed as she just listens to the light sprinkling rain on the leaves. She's tired, but happily so. A little hungry, or rather, the normal level of hungry. That's okay too.
And finally, Trinity McFasater is having coffee (not spiked, for once,) at a cafe, sitting outside despite the rain and being... calm, for once. Quiet. Reflective, even. Or maybe not.
It's a calm day for some people. But Chicago's never quiet for long.