Depending on how many reviews I get I could update tomorrow, but if I only get a few I'll do it some time later this week.
Sam was entirely in the dark as to how it was humanly possible for both Jazz and Tucker to sleep on the cafeteria tables comfortably, while her body simply screamed for the comforts of the mattress both she and Tim shared. The small woolen blanket covered no more than her midsection as the vent ahead blew out cold air. After two sleepless hours had passed she ultimately decided to get up and look for herself, a ruse that not even she could entirely believe.
Once in the depths of the darkened hallway and out of earshot, she whipped out her life support- the cell phone. He was number three on her speed-dial, only shortly after her boss and voicemail. She knew it was late just as well as she knew that he was not yet asleep. Impatiently he lifted the phone up after the second ring, a habitual routine. "Hello?" He said gruffly, his worry shining through.
"We have caller ID, you know it's me." She said tiredly, raking her unpolished fingernails through dark hair. "I'm fine, and I've just been able to get away. It's worse than we thought, Jazz-" She no longer had to lie about her involvement, "Has told me that it's much worse than we thought, and I can only talk for a minute. Everyone else is asleep." She quickly, explained, furtively glancing over her shoulder.
Tim seemed to take this in for a moment before speaking, obviously controlling the impulse to overreact. "So, everything's okay? Nothing's going on that I can help with?" He asked, already knowing the intrepid response.
"Yeah, it's all fine." She said nervously, twiddling her earrings briefly before sighing. "Just-be safe, alright? I'll be home in a few weeks." She promised tentatively, not quite sure whether this was fact or fiction.
"A few weeks? I'm not sure your editor will be kosher with that…" The projection was obvious and slightly admirable. It was not 'her editor' he was worried with, but it was himself. She noted this and smiled nervously. "I'm going to miss you. Call when you can, alright?" He questioned nervously, and she could picture him plucking at his fingernails.
"I'll miss you too, okay? I've just got to go." She said, quickly slapping the lid of her flip phone down before anything else could be said that might tempt her to reveal her true reason for travel to him.
"Was that the boyfriend?" She tensed slightly at the sound of Tucker's soft voice and she nodded accordingly.
"He was nervous, obviously I couldn't just tell him that I was off ghost hunting, be back when my old best friend is done attempting to rule the world." She wondered how he would react to such information, whether or not he was laugh nervously or just gape in silence.
"Why does he think you're here?" He asked, walking her back to the cafeteria.
"He really doesn't know, I told him that Jazz asked for my help and that I'd be back later. He trusts me enough to believe what I tell him." Her stomach did a belly flop as she realized that she did not truly deserve this trust, but she swallowed the realization as quickly as it had surfaced.
Tucker nodded, evidently still exhausted from lack of sleep. "Does your back ever get stiff, sleeping on that?" She asked without thinking, and he seemed mildly surprised by the question.
"Yeah, it does. Usually I go to my place but I thought it was better that I lay low until I'm sure he doesn't know that you're here. If I go out they could…get the information, whether I want them to or not." The insinuation was crystal clear and Sam required no more knowledge.
"I'm not sure how long I can keep telling him that everything's okay and that I'll be back in a few weeks before he gets his butt on a plane and zooms down to Amity Park and becomes the damsel in distress." She savored the image for but an image before wrapping the woolen blanket around her.
Tucker observed her belongings and, in shock, dropped the suitcase and scattered her clothing. "Tuck!" She exclaimed in exasperation, scooping up the clothes by the armful. "Be careful-" He cut her off, a bemused sort of uncertainty washed over him like a wave.
"Dear God is that leather?" He questioned, poking at the bag tentatively, as though fearing his own demise if he were to anger the blasted thing. Sam's face contorted into an angry shock, as though offended by the surmise.
"Oh, no! How could you…you ever think that I would…ugh?" She exclaimed, barely able to look at the device without flinching. "It's textured pleather, I thought you knew me." He released his breath, relieved that she had not so fixedly altered in their years apart. "Just for that you get to sleep under the vent." She huffed, snatching her blanket and stomping (it was not so easy without her combat boots) off to his designated area.
He muttered, but made no further objection before sinking down onto the glorified table and shivering for a few moments before resigning to the ground.
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A booming resonated on the metallic and unfeeling walls, moments later spreading open to welcome whoever dared enter his 'lair'. Danny cherished the word as something every James Bond villain needed to be any sort of a threat, an area where no one should enter unless they were entirely brave or entirely stupid.
Skulker kneeled before him as though Danny were on a throne of some sorts, while he was simply resigned to a high-tech computer chair along with thousands of scattered papers. "Have the rumors been proven false, or is it necessary we take definite action?" His deep and now masculine voice reverberated off of every corner, his green eyes glowing expectantly.
"Sir, it appears to be true that one Samantha Manson-" at that moment her face appeared on a cloth-covered wall, just as it always did in any decent spy thrillers. "Has definitely infiltrated AP, alongside a neutral." Danny frowned in dismay, wondering how such a major event could occur without his knowing.
"Which neutral wishes to give up his or her amnesty?" The thought of his sister immediately sprung to mind, but he dismissed that notion as soon as it came. In no universe would she be considered technically nonaligned.
"T. Foley." The words were spoken with ominous precaution, the grave information driving Danny to finally express some sort of interest in the subject matter.
"Tucker Foley has at long last entered? Hmm, I thought him too much of a coward to do such a daring move. He could be a puppet." It was not a suggestion, though he seemed to think better of it. "Wait, why would his master send him out to pick up a potential ally? It would be best for anyone, despite their plan of action, to keep Tucker out of the line of fire." He thought aloud, turning to the picture of Sam broodingly. "You are dismissed." He stated carelessly, his eyes boring into hers as he ignored Skulker easily. The instant the door had shut Danny came to his feet, approaching the projection cautiously.
"Oh, Sam, oh, Sam, what are we to do with you?" He already had an idea or two.
It's shortish but still over 1,000 words so…I hope u enjoyed! Give me positive and negative feedback and to Leppers, I corrected the error in the previous chapter, thank you for pointing out the inconsistency.