Faye Valentine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flourish_or_perish) wrote2021-08-23 10:12 am
flourish_or_perish) wrote2021-08-23 10:12 am
MHA #7 | Monday Morning
So, Faye had spent a weekend in space.
She'd hopped from Mars to Ganymede and back again, looking for something that would make all of this feel better and -- unsurprisingly -- coming up empty.
Didn't mean she didn't try, though. Even if it did mean that 'trying' had looked like getting absolutely shitfaced and sleeping in her ship.
Monday morning found her winding her way through Fandom, still a little wobbly on her feet. Given how few unfamiliar faces she encountered as she stumbled her way towards her own apartment, she was fairly confident that whatever the hell had happened, it was over, now. Over enough that she could go back to her own apartment without worry of running into anyone. Especially if she was sneaky about it.
Granted, 'sneaky' and 'still drunk' did not go together great, so she was certainly not being quiet as she tried to fish out her keys from her pocket to get in. The fact that she was holding a flask in one hand and had a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth probably didn't help any, but you know what, Faye was in too much personal pain to pick a lane right now, thanks. Rude of you to ask, narrative.
[for one specifically but it's not like they're the only ones who live in the building if you want to object to the noise or the indoor smoking.]
She'd hopped from Mars to Ganymede and back again, looking for something that would make all of this feel better and -- unsurprisingly -- coming up empty.
Didn't mean she didn't try, though. Even if it did mean that 'trying' had looked like getting absolutely shitfaced and sleeping in her ship.
Monday morning found her winding her way through Fandom, still a little wobbly on her feet. Given how few unfamiliar faces she encountered as she stumbled her way towards her own apartment, she was fairly confident that whatever the hell had happened, it was over, now. Over enough that she could go back to her own apartment without worry of running into anyone. Especially if she was sneaky about it.
Granted, 'sneaky' and 'still drunk' did not go together great, so she was certainly not being quiet as she tried to fish out her keys from her pocket to get in. The fact that she was holding a flask in one hand and had a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth probably didn't help any, but you know what, Faye was in too much personal pain to pick a lane right now, thanks. Rude of you to ask, narrative.
[for one specifically but it's not like they're the only ones who live in the building if you want to object to the noise or the indoor smoking.]