Outside MHA #8 | Late Saturday Morning

It was a little weird how little time it had taken Faye to pack up everything important enough to take with her; she'd been here for a year, now, but there still wasn't all that much. A few odds and ends -- gifts she'd been given, dresses she'd worn to parties that she wanted to remember. A betamax tape, which was the whole reason she was even packing up her things.

It had been a good year. She'd needed a year like this, and she could admit that to herself, now -- but she could also acknowledge that it had been like hiding. An okay sort of hiding. An allowed, necessary kind of hiding. She'd needed this time -- and, fine, these people -- in order to get to...here.

But on that note, as tempted as she was to simply throw her bag over her shoulder and sneak off to her ship, her year of -- getting to here (what other, more willingly introspective people might call growth) meant that she didn't and, moreover, couldn't.

So here she was, knocking lightly on Stark's door, half-hoping that he wasn't home, and half-knowing that even if he wasn't she'd go find him to say goodbye properly.

[for the alien mentioned and, yes, this is Faye's last post in Fandom!]