(no subject)
Date: Fall 2012
Characters: Lance Alvers, Candice Wilmer
Summary: Candice takes time off from filling in reports to go for a drink and accidentally stumbles over an old friend. Or perhaps not quite so accidentally.
Status: In progress...
Private but open to calls and such (hell, you want to crash, just ping us first)
She knew this dump better than she would've liked. It wasn't worse than most other bars, but that didn't make her recoil less from the grimy seats and tables and the equally grimy waiters. Still, it was dark inside in the middle of the day and they served cheap alcohol even if they knew what you were - which in her case, meant a government op.
Every week or so, she had this ritual. If she was alive and able, she'd come here, leaf through the same report over and over again and wait. If he showed up, they sometimes talked, other times they happily ignored each other. If he didn't, she'd down her drink and leave after half an hour or so.
Today's reading material of choice was one of the many briefs on Sylar. The only difference was that it was dated back to the bomb. She was pretty sure it was the sort of thing that was not meant to leave the office but she didn't care. She'd have it back before they knew it was missing. She'd done it before. Everything had back-ups of back-ups anyway. There was no danger.
The door swung briefly open letting a long strip of light cut through the gloom. She quirked a smile.
Characters: Lance Alvers, Candice Wilmer
Summary: Candice takes time off from filling in reports to go for a drink and accidentally stumbles over an old friend. Or perhaps not quite so accidentally.
Status: In progress...
Private but open to calls and such (hell, you want to crash, just ping us first)
She knew this dump better than she would've liked. It wasn't worse than most other bars, but that didn't make her recoil less from the grimy seats and tables and the equally grimy waiters. Still, it was dark inside in the middle of the day and they served cheap alcohol even if they knew what you were - which in her case, meant a government op.
Every week or so, she had this ritual. If she was alive and able, she'd come here, leaf through the same report over and over again and wait. If he showed up, they sometimes talked, other times they happily ignored each other. If he didn't, she'd down her drink and leave after half an hour or so.
Today's reading material of choice was one of the many briefs on Sylar. The only difference was that it was dated back to the bomb. She was pretty sure it was the sort of thing that was not meant to leave the office but she didn't care. She'd have it back before they knew it was missing. She'd done it before. Everything had back-ups of back-ups anyway. There was no danger.
The door swung briefly open letting a long strip of light cut through the gloom. She quirked a smile.