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HOUSE #1470
mayo ✧ little shit ✧ loving daughter

"You've reached Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel. I'm not here, leave a message!

If it's urgent... uh. Leave it urgently."

speed dial
steve
sakamoto
gremlin

( call | text | voicemail | mail | action )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

i told you it wasnt dog shit its mud !

so anyway about your womb

My womb is none of your damn business.

cool keep it that way and itll be great ! except not really b/c we're still kidnapped

Nothing gets past your keen powers of observation does it

hes better

Who, the shithead?

that is pretty not specific but yeah people like that dont have to be good just good at what they do

I'm still not clear on what exactly it is he does
Aside from being a shithead

infohound most of them are shitty

No wait doesn't he play football or something

he does both ! can you breathe n walk at the same time

No
It's a very sensitive issue for me how dare you bring this up
I'm gonna cry

banshees can cry ?

[attachment: sad.jpg]

[it's a photo of carol wearing THE MOST TRAGIC EXPRESSION, with tears (water) streaking down her face]

LOL

Laughing at my pain, I see how it is

[watching a teenager eat doritos is not an experience she would've ever thought of chalking up under "fascinating scientific processes", but that's kind of what it is. she regards badou sidelong as he stuffs them into his maw, carol herself taking it a lot slower with her pretzels.

is he gonna choke? she wonders idly.

she can handle it if he chokes. she knows first aid.

is he gonna slow down, though, is the next question that pops up in her head while the kid chatters away in that way that kids have, and that one she's not so sure about.]

They do it with hot rocks, I'm pretty sure.

[--when he takes a break from his spiel.]

But I don't think I've seen that one. Then again I haven't even seen Ghostbusters 2 yet, so.

[it's a point of contention between her and some friends. but who's got time to keep up with movies when you're out saving the world? seriously.]

Hi, Mr. Hijikata!! I wish to formally invite you to my birthday party!! 🎉
It is going to be Sunday, July 21st, at House 1475.
Make sure you come with an appetite at 5 o'clock, because there will be some yummy
appetizers, and even YUMMIER food for dinner! (╯°□°）╯
The theme is casual chic, so dress nice and comfortably
since the weather tells me that it is going to be cooler than it's been lately. Yay!
Please respond back with your confirmation if you are/are not going
by Friday, July 19th. Thank you and have a good day! (っ◕‿◕)っ ♥

You may join if you want.

Is that from the girl who dropped off the food that time?

[carol got home after she'd already left but DAMN THAT STICKY BREAD WAS GOOD]

As long as it's ok with her I'll go

Edited 2013-07-17 10:48 (UTC)

[it's dark in the LEU, most of the employees having gone home for the day (it's not like there was a lot of crime that needed tending to, not really -- it was a city that could sleep at night)]

[but one boy isn't sleeping, isn't dark; he's burning, furious, in a break room with motion-sensor fluorescent lights flickering wildly to life overhead]

[the small machine lies on its side, glass shattered around it. it's not as big as the vending machines, no, but a slip of a fucking urchin like Badou shouldn't have been able to push it over]

[but the crime is impossible not to solve to that conclusion; the culprit's curled up right next to it, knees drawn high, head buried against the pointy angles (not comfortable, just hiding). there's no IV in sight, there's no doctor]

[there's only a broken cigarettes dispenser and a boy who's narrow shoulders shake with something too heavy for them to carry]

[she's staying late tonight, down in the archive room -- no rest for the wicked (or the painfully curious, or the righteously angry, single-minded tunnel vision like a dog with a bone--)

(and what the hell does the kid see in that guy anyway because this file is more incriminating than it is absolving--)

but carol has to come up for air sometime, take a step back and breathe and let her mind unblur. so she heads into the break room, chasing idle thoughts of probably-cold coffee and maybe checking her phone...

and then the file she's still carrying drops, flowering sheets of paper over the peeling lino floor, and she's moving, kicking aside as much of the glass as she can--]

Kid? Shit--

[her shoes crunch as her weight shifts and she crouches down beside him; but she doesn't touch him. doesn't try to touch him. she doesn't think he'd thank her for that.

(fear rises like bile in her throat)]

Badou.

[he's not crying. everything else is there but the waterworks -- he's flush, shaking, eye screwed up, his breath short and shallow, like he can't get enough oxygen. it's more alarming that his cheeks aren't wet than if they were]

[because close up, he smells like sweat and fear and blood and hate, the kind that makes you stronger than you should be (when you should feel weak and human, soft and needing). the flinch away from her, despite the lack of touch, is automatic, ingrained too deeply to be derailed, and glass scatters and glints beneath him with the movement]

[the blood, of course; a cut in those childish plaid pajama pants, at the top of his shin, just beneath his knee (such a pesky place to get a cut), a cut which he does not seem to notice]

[and despite all this, all he can mutter is a tight, guttural]

Th-they're out, they're f-f-fucking out. Fucking, they're...

[he can't breathe]

[the flinch is a kick in the gut for her, but she understands. not wanting to be touched, looked at, not wanting to even exist in a world with other people because it's their fault you're breaking down. it's a memory that's too sharp and too bitter whenever she digs it up, even after so long. even after she forgave them.

carol doesn't mention that he shouldn't be smoking, she doesn't even think twice about it, because she'll have time to worry about the kid's lungs later when it stops sounding like they've collapsed inside of him.

cigarettes can't fix whatever this is, she knows, and he probably knows it too, but right now she'd give them to him if she could. if there was even a chance of it working.]

Badou.

[she says again. it's not quite gentle -- more grounding, or trying to be.]

What happened.

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