Sirina, trapped in an elevator AU, for megan-the-magical on tumblr.
She should have known when she heard the noise the elevator made as it stopped. It was the grinding, rattling groan of an ancient half-dead thing, just waiting to give up the ghost.
But the stairs went past the apartments of people she'd rather stay as far away from as possible, and the nice-looking girl with the basket of cookies was already stepping onto the rickety elevator; so on she went as well.
The other girl smiled shyly at her as she entered. Her hair was long and dark, fading to a caramel shade at the edges, and she fiddled at the hem of her prim, blue-and-white blouse with the hand that wasn't holding the basket.
"Hi," said Maren, awkwardly, flashing a quick smile back as she settled into her corner of the elevator.
The elevator dinged, and started to rise; and, about three seconds after it started moving, it jerked and ground to a halt.
Maren grimaced, rubbing the back of her head where she'd bumped it against the wall, and sighed. "Shit."
They stood there in silence for several minutes before the other girl spoke up. "So who are you visiting?" A Spanish accent tugged at the edges of her words, lifting up the t's and r's like the high point of a check mark.
That sealed it in her mind: they were going to be here for a while. She sat crosslegged on the floor, leaning back against the wall. Might as well get comfortable.
"A friend," she said. And then, because just leaving it at that felt a little curt, she added, "Well. Ex-boyfriend. But John's still a friend."
The girl seemed to take her sitting down as an invitation—which she supposed it was, come to think of it—and sat next to her. "You must be good friends, then," she said, setting the basket between them.
Maren smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. What about you?"
"Here to visit a friend too," said the girl. "Hector Ricardo. Have you met him?"
Maren shook her head.
"He's a good friend, too. Today's his birthday." She hefted the basket of cookies, dropped it again. "Want some of these? He'll eat all of them by himself if I let him. I would have gotten a smaller one, but the others in the store were even bigger."
Maren hesistated a moment, and then shrugged. "Sure. Thanks."
She reached for a cookie at the same time that the girl did—probably to hand it to her, she seemed that ridiculously polite—and their hands brushed. She half-expected the girl to jump, or jerk her hand away, but she didn't. In fact, her brown eyes sparkled, and her smile widened a little.
"My name's Marina, by the way," said the girl, and Maren tried not to stare, because that would be rude and then she'd have to explain that it was just an amazing coincidence to run into a girl whose name was two letters away from her own, and who also happened to be able to make her chest squeeze tighter with a smile. "What's yours?"
"Maren Elizabeth," she replied, after a moment, and took a bite of her cookie. "Nice to meet you."
