We're the children of the summer, but the winter came so fast...

[feedislive]

who ; Georgia Mason; OPEN
what ; Because things spattered with your own blood are the best Christmas gift.
where ; Outside George and Shaun's apartment in Doctorow
when ; Christmas day
warning(s); None yet; prose and action are both okay

Comments

[usavatar]

Steve is in uniform. Not his red, white, and blue, but an appropriately formal army uniform, badges of office and medals pinned neatly in place. He stops at a distance when he sees George, not sure he wants to get closer and risk a repeat of the week before.

But she's clearly not well and he can't just ignore that. He clasps his hands behind his back and calls out, "Miss Mason?"

[feedislive]

She jerks a little at the sound of his voice, pushes her glasses up, and stares at him for a second before her brain clicks into gear and she figures out why he's standing so far away and looking at her like that.

"The street's clear," she says, her voice dull and emotionless. "Of mistletoe. So as long as you're clean, you don't have to stand all the way over there."

[usavatar]

Steve comes over at once. He doesn't sit, doesn't crowd, but he does lean just a little sideways to try and get a better look at her face.

He noticed the destruction, certainly.

Very gently, with a neutrality that manages not to sound tired itself: "What is it?"

[feedislive]

Georgia shrugs, and glances up at the hole in the apartment so she doesn't have to look at Steve.

"We got our van. For Christmas, I guess. There was a Christmas tree on top of it, at least." She swallows hard. "The station AI is a real bitch, you know that?"

[usavatar]

He doesn't even frown at the language. Just sits down next to her, leaving a couple of feet of space between them.

"I'd been getting that impression. And I'm guessing... it's not because she put a hole in your apartment wall?"

[feedislive]

"No," she snorts, almost a laugh if you're not paying too much attention. "Though I'm pissed about that too, trust me."

She goes quiet for a second or two, her eyes on the ground in front of her feet. When she finds her voice again, it's flat and calm, detached as if she were talking about the weather. Just the facts, free of emotion or opinion or... She can do that.

"We were running for the van when I got shot. I guess I didn't notice the dart until after we made it, so that's where Shaun... That's where I died."

Her hands are shaking. She glares at them for a moment, clenching them tight together until they stop.

"Shaun's cleaning up m- the blood."