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would i run off the world someday
Jan. 18th, 2019 11:04 pmNot even forty eight hours have passed for Lisbeth Salander since her bloody and confusing arrival to Darrow.
She'd debated with herself for quite a while about whether she'd go collect her envelope with its money and access to housing. In fact, some of the very little sleep she'd managed to find had been wrapped around her computer bag in a corner of the train station. After about an hour of dozing had led her to investigating the possibility of something softer and warmer, she set up watch outside the apartment building to which she'd been assigned, possibly by some sort of mythological creature, or worse, some sort of welfare fuck.
High Gate Terrace contains less menace and sits far less ominously than she'd imagined, but she's not about to just give in and go sit in her cell.
She blames what happens next on friendly handsome bigfoots and her own complete exhaustion; apparently Sam lives in this building too, and rather than the suspicion she knows she ought to be searching for, she feels relief. From there, she's not even quite sure how she's done it, but his apartment doesn't manage to keep her out, and she's got Pop Tarts from her supply run at a convenience store to offer to the two dogs. She'd been mildly concerned when she'd first identified them being walked by a girl who went in and out of Sam's apartment, but the dogs at least tolerate her presence. "It's been a very long two days. Look," she says, and after peeling off her outer jacket, she sets her stun gun on the nearest flat surface. "I'm just here to sleep. Don't ask why."
It takes only a minute or two, curling up more and more tightly under her jacket, for her to be asleep in the only place she's sure she can trust now-- the couch in Sam's living room.
She'd debated with herself for quite a while about whether she'd go collect her envelope with its money and access to housing. In fact, some of the very little sleep she'd managed to find had been wrapped around her computer bag in a corner of the train station. After about an hour of dozing had led her to investigating the possibility of something softer and warmer, she set up watch outside the apartment building to which she'd been assigned, possibly by some sort of mythological creature, or worse, some sort of welfare fuck.
High Gate Terrace contains less menace and sits far less ominously than she'd imagined, but she's not about to just give in and go sit in her cell.
She blames what happens next on friendly handsome bigfoots and her own complete exhaustion; apparently Sam lives in this building too, and rather than the suspicion she knows she ought to be searching for, she feels relief. From there, she's not even quite sure how she's done it, but his apartment doesn't manage to keep her out, and she's got Pop Tarts from her supply run at a convenience store to offer to the two dogs. She'd been mildly concerned when she'd first identified them being walked by a girl who went in and out of Sam's apartment, but the dogs at least tolerate her presence. "It's been a very long two days. Look," she says, and after peeling off her outer jacket, she sets her stun gun on the nearest flat surface. "I'm just here to sleep. Don't ask why."
It takes only a minute or two, curling up more and more tightly under her jacket, for her to be asleep in the only place she's sure she can trust now-- the couch in Sam's living room.
