[ to his credit, karen doesn't really give him much time to process. she's quick to realize how awkward it might be that she's just thrown his arms around this man's shoulders, but at the same time, the relief makes it worth it. karen understands that she is the sort to jump to that kind of physical contact, and that is not always something others respond to in kind. and more often than not she's okay with that - as long as there isn't a recoil, as long as she hasn't crossed some terrible boundary without knowing it, she'll be okay. they'll be okay. it's also part of the reason she draws back as quickly as she does - it's obvious he isn't the sort to hug, obvious that he's not really sure what to do with the fact she's just gone and hugged him, so she pulls back away. is more than happy to move on. she feels... giddy, almost, with the next piece of the puzzle. with another step towards survival, away from the crushing dread that she's been trying to swallow back. she's been trying to find this very thing since those windows closed and the water started rising, and now...
it's only one step, they're not out of the woods yet, but it's better than standing still.
but just as quickly as the relief and hope comes, the next hurdle makes itself clear. a hurdle that is officially, almost entirely, out of their control. maybe that's why the drop is so quick to come to her, a heaviness that she is usually much better about keeping out of her voice. after all this searching, after all of this work, all this luck, now... they have to wait.
the message got posted around he says, and Karen looks over to him. while he may not sound all that experienced in words of comfort, there is somehow something inherently calming about it. because he is right- the message did get posted around. and if he didn't actually believe they had a chance for someone to show up, she has a gut feeling he wouldn't have said anything at all. so that leaves them here, standing next to these windows, hoping to see movement, hoping to see someone else. were they back in new york, were she home, she wouldn't be worried - people are around every corner, down every hall, for better or for worse. here? here karen quite escape this feeling of emptiness, like they could be stuck here, in this room, and no one will know, or come for them.
it does not escape her that the only reason she doesn't spiral down into those thoughts is because he's here with her. that, at the very least, she's not alone as the water starts to rise, as she closes her eyes because there is that feeling again, of something watching. of something in the water, watching them just out of reach. the sound of the keys rattling catches her attention again, and when she looks, she notices him dangling the metal near the window, trying to catch light. smart. really smart. she exhales, not having realized she'd been holding her breath. ]
Hmm? Oh. [ he was asking her a question, and her eyes open a little further - her car. he's asking about her car. she points off a bit to the left, though because of the lighting and the rain, the most they can make out is a silhouette, about 70 years away. ] It's an old pickup with a truck cap, but I didn't recognize the make or model, but it looks like a F-250, older. Maybe '80s? [ it has been....some time since she's really thought about cars, but the knowledge comes back to her, unbidden. she never really considered herself a car person, either, but these kinds of things were important back in vermot, when your car (or, really, your mom or dad's car that you either got to use or 'borrowed') was your only means of transportation.
she takes a breath in, and then one out, steadying herself. realizing, in some distant part of her, that this is all they can really do right now. ] Yours?
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it's only one step, they're not out of the woods yet, but it's better than standing still.
but just as quickly as the relief and hope comes, the next hurdle makes itself clear. a hurdle that is officially, almost entirely, out of their control. maybe that's why the drop is so quick to come to her, a heaviness that she is usually much better about keeping out of her voice. after all this searching, after all of this work, all this luck, now... they have to wait.
the message got posted around he says, and Karen looks over to him. while he may not sound all that experienced in words of comfort, there is somehow something inherently calming about it. because he is right- the message did get posted around. and if he didn't actually believe they had a chance for someone to show up, she has a gut feeling he wouldn't have said anything at all. so that leaves them here, standing next to these windows, hoping to see movement, hoping to see someone else. were they back in new york, were she home, she wouldn't be worried - people are around every corner, down every hall, for better or for worse. here? here karen quite escape this feeling of emptiness, like they could be stuck here, in this room, and no one will know, or come for them.
it does not escape her that the only reason she doesn't spiral down into those thoughts is because he's here with her. that, at the very least, she's not alone as the water starts to rise, as she closes her eyes because there is that feeling again, of something watching. of something in the water, watching them just out of reach. the sound of the keys rattling catches her attention again, and when she looks, she notices him dangling the metal near the window, trying to catch light. smart. really smart. she exhales, not having realized she'd been holding her breath. ]
Hmm? Oh. [ he was asking her a question, and her eyes open a little further - her car. he's asking about her car. she points off a bit to the left, though because of the lighting and the rain, the most they can make out is a silhouette, about 70 years away. ] It's an old pickup with a truck cap, but I didn't recognize the make or model, but it looks like a F-250, older. Maybe '80s? [ it has been....some time since she's really thought about cars, but the knowledge comes back to her, unbidden. she never really considered herself a car person, either, but these kinds of things were important back in vermot, when your car (or, really, your mom or dad's car that you either got to use or 'borrowed') was your only means of transportation.
she takes a breath in, and then one out, steadying herself. realizing, in some distant part of her, that this is all they can really do right now. ] Yours?