In the back of my mind I know nothing will change

Jul 26, 2009 20:22

River is feeling agitated, like there's a splinter in her finger (in her brain) called 'Chicago shì fàngzòng fēngkuáng de jié' and it won't work itself out no matter what she tries. Sleep hasn't even been a terribly friendly option thus far, full of running (chassé échappé sauté but the moves are stiff and stolid leaving the review for this performance stuck on poor execution) and Simon's screams and gunshots while Jubal's laugh echos in the theater around it all...

So!

The receptionist's desk in the Conrad basement is under new, sleep deprived and manic management.

Said management probably does not care -- that is a huge lie, she definitely does not care -- about the duties and responsibilities sitting behind such a desk imbues her with. All that matters at the moment is that it was unattended, there is paper with words on it, and said paper makes comforting ksssshhhsshhshhcht noises when she rips it into tiny, tiny individual-word-sized pieces.

Ksshhhssshchtcht.

Kssshhshcht.

Kshhhsshhhchtssshcht.

Occasionally, she stops to write little notes on the pieces before she drops them into the pile, all the words held like hodgeberries in her skirt. Numbers and equations. It's anyone's guess as to what they're for, just now.

the other, river tam, babel, farley claymore, daniel faraday, annabelle durham

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