@lncendiaries || closed
𝔰 he lives on the move. none of her safehouses are lived-in enough to be homes; she still finds herself regularly getting ready for the day in a hotel room or (in this case) airport bathroom. that’s kind of fun in itself – ducking in as one woman and walking out another, her shades swapped for a warm cowl and her pencil skirt folded neatly in her bag, like a scene from a spy show. ada wong’s services aren’t needed tonight. that’s even more fun.
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 hails a cab and flattens out a crease in the soft fabric ( wine-red, long-sleeved and tied in the back under her short coat ) as she watches the virginia skyline roll by. her fingers drum on the door handle, and she keeps an eye on the time via the one cell phone she uses for personal business. all the others are silenced in her bag.
luckily, the cab drops her off seven minutes early – she passes the front of the apartment building and heads around to the back, hurrying to get out of the cold. she has to be careful not to slip on the icy metal of the fire escape, but soon enough she finds the window that’s been left unlocked for her and gladly climbs through. as she slides it closed, remembering that she doesn’t have to stay silent, she calls out: “hey, handsome.” next order of business is to step into the kitchen and try to get a glimpse of what he’s working on. “smells good in here. i’d offer to help cook, but…” mei laughs.
