Mab tapped a pen against the long mahogany conference table in impatient irritation, following along with the tempo of only two bars of music running on a loop in her head. She tapped the screen of her phone to check the time and sighed as it read 9:47.
If she could spend forty minutes coordinating subway and bus rides to be at the office on-time, why couldn't anyone else manage to run even close to that?
Smart flats slapped against the thin office carpet in the hallway and a barking voice overpowered the ambient noise, preceding the arrival of Mab's boss. Mariah looked for all the world like someone's fun-loving, sock-knitting, cat-hoarding aunt. Plump and adorned in all of the kitschy crocheted accouterment of an older childless woman, the resemblance stopped short at her face and recoiled in fear at her voice.
"How've you been, Mab?" she asked, sweeping into the room with a clatter of heavy jewelry, giving a brief glance at Mab's wheelchair as she passed. Her brow showed she wanted to ask, but the pursed shape of her lips showed she knew better.
"Peachy." Mab's attention moved briefly to the wide bay of windows, appraising the low-hanging clouds threatening rain. "So what didn't you want to say over the phone?"
Mariah pushed a plate of muffins closer to Mab, who shook her head at the offer. "Mab honey, you've more than proved yourself to be a great editor since your uncle convinced us to take you on, and I'm glad you were able to make working from home work so well with all of the… everything." Mariah cleared her throat. "Look, I'm not saying you're not a great editor, because you are, I'm just saying that you need to learn to be nicer."
"Nicer." Mab repeated the word as if that would make it sound less ridiculous.
Mariah nodded, and her glasses slipped down her nose a little, disturbing the beaded lanyard keeping them from getting lost. "Yeah; nicer. Terry called after he got his manuscript back and he didn't appreciate all of your notes."
Mab chewed on her lower lip briefly, restraining a sharp retort. "Which notes exactly?"
Mariah waffled. "All of them."
"So," Mab spoke carefully, setting down her pen and lacing her fingers together, "he would prefer that notes in the vein of 'new paragraph' and 'spelling error' and 'capitalize' read as… what?"
Mariah leaned back in her chair, some part squeaking in protest. "This is his fifth book with us; can't you just write over the text with the changes instead of adding notes?"
"This is his fifth book with us, Mariah!" Mab's voice rose a little higher than she'd intended. "Can't he just learn to capitalize his character's names and spell them consistently on his own?"
Mariah leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Mab threateningly. "Your job is to edit, not to try to teach him some kind of lesson! He wants you fired, Mab! This is the third-"
"What?" Mab interrupted, her voice shaky.
Mariah breathed deeply, reigning in the fire that had risen to match Mab's frustration. "I'm not going to fire you; you're too good for that. I am saying that I can't keep pulling you from projects because you can't get along with the authors. Don't make me choose between you and the money again, you understand?"
"Yes." Mab lowered her head, clenching her fists in her lap. "I understand."
Mariah sighed, pushing her glasses further up her face. "Since we don't know if you're going to be back here before your birthday, take this." She retrieved a small package wrapped in newspaper from her tote bag and slid it across the table.
"What is it?" Mab asked suspiciously.
"A box of scorpions," Mariah deadpanned. "It's a birthday present; take it."
Mab accepted the package, putting it away in her bag at Mariah's further prompting. Mab checked her phone. "I'm running late; I have to go." She pushed her wheelchair back from the conference table and hastily swung her bag around to the back. It caught against her shoulder and scratched deeply.
Mariah seemed concerned. "Are you okay on the bus with that? Should I call you a cab?"
"I got here fine, I'll get back fine." Mab didn't mean for the tone to be so sharp - she was on thin ice already - but her boss seemed to understand. Or, at the very least, gave her a little more leeway to be cranky at the moment. "See you next time," she added, offering a warm smile.
Mariah held the glass door open for Mab to retreat. "You'll get it right. It just takes work."
Mab could feel a scream building inside her as she rolled down the long hallway and people jumped out of her way like they were a hero in their minds. Impulsively she took a left when the elevators required a right turn, retreating to the company bathrooms. It was a little difficult to wrangle the heavy door but she managed, swiftly locking it to secure her alcove of sanity against any intruders.
Smooth tile surfaces and humming overhead lights welcomed her with broad arms, inviting her to roll far from the door and skin across pristine reflective surfaces. Mab raised her hands, trembling, and pressed both tightly against her mouth, trapping all the anger and frustration inside her body.
Mab screamed into her hands. The breath ran out of her, bending her at the waist and bowing her head to scatter her tears into her lap. She could feel the gaping maw of her scream pulling down on her jaw; a painful force trying to claw its way out of her and raze the earth bare.
Mab locked her wheels, kicked the foot pedals out of the way, and savored the act of standing. Blood rushed from her head as she rose and static filled her vision. A quick grab for the sink saved her from teetering over and breaking into a thousand pieces on the floor. Gripping the artificial porcelain with shaking hands she looked in the slightly crooked bathroom mirror.
Eyes puffy and red, and a feeble attempt at professional makeup had smudged all over. Mab splashed water on her face and couldn't worry about the waste of mascara.
A memory of a soft touch caressed the back of her head. "Oh honey… are you not feeling well? Do you want something to settle your stomach?"
Mab remembered crying in a different bathroom, not so long ago. "I just can't handle it - I can't handle one more thing being wrong."
Her mother's strong voice denied her anguish. "Yes you can. You can and you will, and you'll handle the next thing and the next. You're a Dumont, and Dumont women are fearless."
"Just let me be upset about this!" She'd smacked her mom's hand away, too tired of the coddling and gentle touches. She didn't want to be yet more breakable and another rung down the ladder. But her mom had stayed, still within reach and still embracing with gentle hands.
Now Mab was alone, in such a similar moment that she could almost smell her mother's perfume or feel the caress of her hands on her hair. Mab closed her eyes and lowered her head, taking shaky but deep breaths to steady her frustrated emotions.
The dizziness was catching up and Mab retreated to her chair. It waited with open arms as she eased down into it and unlocked her wheels.
Someone banged on the locked bathroom door. "Hurry up in there!"
As Mab took her time ensuring she was good to go, the person outside grew more agitated, banging harder as Mab rolled up to the door and unlocked it.
The door-banger, a tall man in a loose suit, drew down his gaze from the height of an ordinary person to Mab's much lower level. He flushed a deep embarrassed purple and spluttered an apology. "Oh! I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't…"
Mab beamed with her best fake smile. "It's fine." She ran over the edge of his shoe as she passed, and though he hissed in pain he clearly didn't dare yell anymore.
She could feel that scream growing inside her again as she descended in the elevator and multiple smiling faces offered to take the next elevator as if her disability might be contagious or otherwise required a safe distance.
The scream inside her bounced around her tightly-closed mouth as she waited for the bus under a faintly-raining sky, as she boarded the bus on a shaky lift, as she was locked down into place, as she was released and the process reversed.
The scream clawed inside her like hunger, demanding sacrifice every time she smiled and was so far from meaning it. She beat it back as she skimmed up the accessible ramp and the auto-switch opened the door for her. The silence of the library threw a weighted blanket over her anger and her shoulders began to relax.
In search of a hero, for a figure he could never hope to properly disguise under fake glasses and a baseball cap - not to anyone really looking, anyway, the scream inside her began to fade. The hungry, furious, screaming demon inside her chest cackled as a long-abandoned door creaked open just a little wider than before.
Mab spotted him examining science fiction novels and she grinned without meaning to. She stopped one aisle over and pulled out her phone, thumbs hesitating over the screen before texting a single word.
"Do I want to know?" the librarian asked, raising an eyebrow at the poor condition of the book Steve was trying to return. Waterlogged and generally bedraggled, he'd somehow forgotten the little novel was in his pocket on his last trip to the Raft and it had been utterly ruined.
Steve hunched lower as he tried to appear even more apologetic. "I'm so sorry; I thought I'd kept it well enough out of the rain, but…"
The librarian sighed, peeling open the back cover to scan the barcode inside. "These things happen, but I am going to have to fine you the cost of the book."
"Of course, yes, thank you." Steve pulled out his wallet and happily paid the twenty-dollar fine.
"I am going to have to ask you to be more careful in the future," the librarian advised as she returned his library card and a small amount of change. "No more drowning borrowed books."
"Of course," Steve agreed emphatically, "and before I forget - could you point me towards the self-help books?" He checked his watch, confirming he still had a little time to set up his joke before he was due to meet Mab.
"Second sublevel, follow the signs."
"Thank you."
It didn't take too long checking the shelves with his head at an uncomfortable angle, reading titles and mulling over his options before Steve found the perfect book. He hesitated a moment, though, wondering if maybe he shouldn't. Sure, she'd laid a funny trap for his antiquated chivalrous nature, but was it alright to play one in return?
He didn't have a lot of experience to draw on. Natasha was more of a conversational wit than an outright prankster, he hadn't spoken to Sharon since she'd lost her cover as his neighbor, and Alice was usually too busy to dedicate her time to jokes. And Peggy… Steve's heart sunk and regret chewed at him. He grabbed the book from the shelf and headed for the elevators, going down.
What am I even doing here? Steve thought, watching the elevator's little digital screen confirm his descent. He was just playing pretend at some version of history where he got to be normal; to obsess over whether his words might make a lady upset and not over whether they might ignite a war.
Steve had started to believe that the guy who wanted stability, a family, and life beyond conflict had gone into the ice seventy years ago and someone else had come out. He'd started to believe, he realized, that he'd volunteered to be a tool of the government; that he still owed them something after all this time.
But I do, he thought sourly. He'd signed the Accords to give Bucky his freedom and legitimize Wanda, Vision, and Sam. To keep the family together. They also seemed to be collecting new members faster than Steve could keep track - they had an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man now as well. Did they understand what they were signing on to, or did they just trust that the Avengers wouldn't direct them into a storm?
He turned down an aisle, following call numbers to find his other books and increase the stack. Just to be safe, he planned to bring four books with him on his next outing - just in case either he ruined another one or Mrs. Ellis had made another friend. He'd be safe either way.
Steve lost track of time as he found his books and reading the backs to try and get an idea of what he was collecting, Steve absently pulled his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed.
Peekaboo, the text read. Eight letters and no punctuation and the world slipped away. A small amount of eager anticipation caught up as his head jerked up, searching only briefly until a familiar set of wheels breached the end of the aisle, followed by a sly smiling Mab.
"Hey, stranger. Branching out, are we?" she asked, eyeing the section.
Steve shrugged, adding another book to his stack. "You could say I'm starting something of a book club at… work."
The corners of her lips quirked up in a smile. "Mmn, cryptic. Very classified military contractor work, book clubs are. Everything went okay with your assignment yesterday?"
Mild panic coursed through him. "Well, I really can't talk about it."
"I know," she folded her hands in her lap, "but I can still ask if you're ok, right? You and your - what would it be: your team? Squad?"
Her concern was touching, and her understanding a relief. "Everyone's fine."
"Good." Mab held out her arms for the stack of books. "Give them here."
Steve surrendered them without protest. "There's one for you in there."
"For me? Which - oh haha." She threw the book at his chest and he caught it easily, poorly stifling his laughter. How to Make Friends and Influence People. "You're hilarious."
She was still smiling, and the new sparkle to her eyes said he'd done the right thing by returning her practical joke. "Well if you don't like my suggestions, what are you here for instead?"
"I have a confession." She looked guilty. "I called you yesterday because it was raining, not because I was really planning on going to the library. It's just…!" She made a distressed noise. "When we talked the other week, you said 'next time it rains I expect a phone call', and I thought if it rained and I didn't call that you might think I was ignoring you or something, and I would never-"
Steve waved his hands, hoping to interrupt the quick rambling panic she'd descended into. "Whoah, slow down!"
She huffed, a little cough accompanying it as she tried to compose herself. "It meant a lot to me that you were… you know… not a dick. So I wanted to make sure you knew that I knew you meant it." Her brows knitted together in a sincere frown.
Steve could have laughed but he thought that might be a little too mean. It was too much of a relief that she worried about the little things just as much as he'd agonized over whether it was appropriate to play a practical joke. "So here we are."
"Yep. Here we are." She glanced at the aisle. "I guess I could do worse than science fiction for casual reading." She trailed her fingers over the spines. "What are you reading these days, Steve?"
"Mostly briefings from… from work." Why did he always stumble over the easy questions?
She examined him carefully. "Open to suggestions?"
"I don't think I have the spare time," he admitted.
"Okay." She let it drop without further comment. "Well, you're in front of the section I want to peruse, so unless you want me to roll over your feet…"
Steve obligingly moved out of her way, managing to keep himself from apologizing. The broadening of Mab's smile indicated that she noticed, and appreciated it.
Even though she let it go so quickly, Steve's mind continued to dwell on it. He spent all of his free time working on reviewing Raft documents, on training, on helping others train. In reality, he didn't actually have free time.
So would it be so wrong or too selfish to carve out time for himself? Wasn't that what he was doing at that exact moment? Offering to wait in the rain with this stranger - less strange every time they crossed paths - wasn't going to prevent any wars, but he'd done it anyway. He'd done it because at that moment he'd felt the most like his old self.
"Mab?" he broached quietly.
"Hmmn?" she asked idly, her brow furrowing as she made some very serious decision between the two books.
He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If I did have the time, sometimes, what would you recommend?"
She glanced up at him, seemingly judging his sincerity before answering. "Well… for military contractors with very little time on their hands, possibly in need of a bit of escapism?" Mab paused too long, stared up at him too carefully. "The Martian Chronicles. It's a collection of short stories from 1950, so no one bit will take up too much of your time."
She leaned down, grabbing a book from the bottom row, but as she sat up her eyes lost focus and she dropped the book into her lap. She flailed a little, grabbing the handrail on one tire but missing the other, knocking into the bookshelf instead.
"Mab!?" Steve asked, crouching quickly and grabbing her flailing hand to keep her from hurting herself.
"I'm okay," she answered in a slightly dreamy voice, squeezing his hand, "just… got a little dizzy." She blinked rapidly, letting go of the tire rail to rub at her eyes. "I made the mistake of wondering what it might be like to be your height and I got vertigo."
"Look at me," Steve ordered, not liking the shaky wobble he could still feel through her hand.
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"Sure you are; look at me." He held up one finger with his free hand and Mab's eyes lagged in focusing on it. Crouched down so he was level with her face the color of her eyes jumped out at him for the first time. Blue pouring into green, water nourishing a spring garden, diving into an emerald abyss.
She protested and her voice grounded him again, drawing him out of his distraction. "I didn't hit my head on anything; it's just my meds."
"Follow my finger, Mab," he ordered, watching her eyes twitch side-to-side as she followed the path of his hand. Blue, blue forgetting that it was blue and transforming to green, green like life waving at the shore from tumbling ocean waves. The call of the dark heart of her eyes grew stronger the longer he stared; promising rest, promising peace.
"Do I pass muster?" she asked, squeezing his hand.
Steve coughed as he let go of her hand, aware that he had held on and stared far longer than was polite. He stood, brushing some floor lint from his knees. "You look okay to me."
"Well, thank you, Doctor Steve; I'll be sure to let my medical team know I have your stamp of approval." Mab fiddled with the crooked stack of books in her lap. "That's more than enough excitement for one day; shall we?" she invited him to follow her with a wave of her hand.
Steve surrendered. "Well, you've got my books so I guess I'm at your disposal."
"Such power!" she declared with an excited whisper, taking off down the aisle towards the elevators.
He didn't need to measure his steps to make sure his companion could keep up. She skimmed along at a brisk pace, the motion of air around her forcing bits of bark-brown hair to flutter in the artificial breeze. It was easy, easier than any part of the last week. Talking like normal people, doing normal things, enjoying interactions not colored by an omnipresent dread of forced action or inaction.
She waited patiently as he checked out and made no comment about the additional warning he received about not getting his books wet. He returned the favor, waiting as she exchanged mild pleasantries with the librarian who seemed intent on asking multiple questions about Mab's uncle.
Like the time before, Mab handed him her green umbrella as she opened the automatic door, but paused as soon as she rolled out onto the ramp. "Oh," she said softly, holding a hand up to the sky, "it stopped raining."
"I guess we don't need this," he said, giving back the umbrella as she reached the bottom of the ramp and turned out on clear concrete.
"No," her face fell and her smile turned sad, "I suppose not."
Steve instantly understood the meaning of her sadly soft words. That was supposed to mean he didn't have to be there. It meant that she felt poorly for imposing on his time.
"Come on," Steve said, turning the opposite direction as the bus stop.
Mab followed, keeping up easily with his long strides. He normally made an effort to move with crowds and not be the rude guy who made others move out of his way. But with Mab in tow, he held his ground, and people moved easily out of his way, clearing the way for her to have an easier time of it.
The tables in Bryant Park - a refuge of greenery tucked away behind the library - were mostly unoccupied as it had only just stopped raining. Steve picked a spot set back from the sidewalk and moved one of the pair of chairs out of the way so Mab could take its place.
Steve leaned back in the second metal chair gently, testing its sturdiness before relaxing into it. "I like sitting out here."
Mab backed into the open spot left by the absent chair and crossed her arms tightly around her middle, trying to keep a little heat from escaping. "I do too when it's not forty degrees."
He honestly hadn't noticed that autumn had arrived so briskly and that it might be a little too cold for others. Steve shrugged off his jacket without really thinking about it. He froze halfway through offering it to Mab. His brain stumbled over the presumptive gesture, and he found he didn't know whether or not that was still something that was a nice gesture or now too antiquated to be mentioned.
Mab saved him, reaching out the rest of the way and taking the proffered jacket. "Thanks." She smiled as she draped it around her shoulders. It wasn't the broad and beaming smile that she showed to fill the awkward social moments but failed to reach her eyes. This smile started behind her eyes and spread like a heavy morning mist rising from the cold ground.
She turned her attention away from him and out at the mostly-empty park. The city hadn't completely emerged from the storm yet. There was the usual rattle of tires over manhole covers and honking of irritated drivers, but the air still smelled clear.
It felt like an appropriate time to talk; to ask questions or share stories, but Steve didn't feel the need. It felt okay to sit in silence, appreciating the silence. A mild breeze shook the trees, scattering heavy remnants of rain on their heads.
"So," Mab broke the silence, "if you had a million dollars, but you had to spend it making something on your own, what would it be?"
Steve wondered if maybe he had missed a conversational segue. "Wh… what?"
"I despise small talk. What would you make?"
Thrown for a loop couldn't begin to describe Steve's thought process at that moment. "I'm gonna need some time to think about that one."
Mab chuffed with laughter. "We can try normal small talk if you prefer; the weather, work, weddings…"
Steve leaped on that. "My best friend is getting married next month."
"Oh? Are you invited?" she asked with a sly smile.
Steve made an offended noise. "Yes, I'm invited - why wouldn't I be?"
Mab shrugged slowly, not meeting his eyes. "Well, if the groom isn't the most handsome, he might not want you giving the bride second thoughts," she whispered conspiratorially.
"They waited a long time for this; the time for second thoughts has passed," he assured.
Mab shivered, adjusting Steve's jacket around her shoulders. "I wouldn't get married in early winter in New York if you paid me."
He hummed. "They'd probably agree because it's in Santa Barbara."
"California!?" Mab gasped. "I'm jealous! It's supposed to start snowing soon. You'll miss out on all the great sledding, though. That hill between 102nd and 103rd is amazing."
"I grew up in Brooklyn, so Miller Hill was my favorite." He paused, thinking back. "Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure I broke my arm on that hill when I was ten."
Mab laughed as she pulled the collar of his jacket higher to protect against a chilling breeze.
"Coffee?" Steve offered, starting to stand.
"Oh, I'd love some!"
"Don't go anywhere."
"I'll break out the wheel chocks," she replied.
A contented grin stayed on his face as he stood in line at the pop-up coffee shop on the far corner of the park. It moved quickly, and the barista seemed bored at his simple order of two plain coffees. They were dispensed from little better than a vat and handed over with little ceremony after he paid.
"Do you have cream?" he asked as an afterthought.
The barista jerked her head to the left. "Around the corner."
Doing his best to remember the exact color of Mab's coffee from before, Steve took his time adding cream to her cup and stirring it with a little plastic stick. When he was fairly certain he'd gotten it just right - or as good as it was going to get - he put the lid back on and retraced his steps through the park.
True to her word, Mab hadn't moved an inch in his absence. She looked out at the open park space, fingers plucking along the sleeves of his borrowed jacket.
"I hope I got the ratio right.," he said as he handed her the coffee.
She sipped at it delicately. "It's perfect. What do I owe you?"
"Don't worry about it."
"That's two for two," Mab said, pointing at him threateningly. "Next time it's on me."
Steve changed the subject. "Do you know your socks don't match?" He wasn't certain in the dim lighting of the library's stacks, but in the outdoors, he was certain that she was wearing one navy sock and one purple.
"I'm aware." She shot him an amused sidelong glance. "I wanted both colors, so I wore both." Her phone rang and she jumped slightly, pulling it out of her pocket and sighing at the screen. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."
"David?" she answered. She jerked the phone away from her ear as a loud voice streamed through the other end. She held it a few inches away from her ear to be safe as she tried to interject. "Slow down, what came in the-" she paused, listening. "So it's-" she sighed. "You know what, I'm headed home. Try not to panic before I get back. We'll figure it out."
She hung up even as the speaker continued, effectively cutting them off. "I have to go. Either my uncle is on fire or his computer is; I can't be certain." She shrugged off Steve's jacket and tossed it over the table. "Thank you for letting me borrow that."
"Should I-?" he was halfway through standing when Mab pointed at him threateningly, so he sat back down.
"You stay and enjoy the park, sir!" she ordered. "It's a wonderful day now, and you have a book to enjoy."
"Yes, ma'am," Steve answered with a smile.
She nodded decisively, working her way back onto concrete and making her way back to the bus stop. She waved idly before turning the last corner like she wasn't sure how else to say goodbye.
He could feel the noise of the world pressing in again, the thoughts of his responsibilities crowding to the forefront of his mind. He just wanted one more minute of peace.
A question suddenly occurred to Steve and he, for some reason, didn't feel like it could wait. He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, indecision holding him back for a moment. But as he tapped Mab's number and lifted the phone to his ear his chest was filled with a tender eagerness and not weighty dread.
"Miss me already?" she answered.
"What would you make?" he asked.
"The million?" she asked, picking up on the question's meaning. "I'd learn to forge blades, buy a bunch of meteors, and make a sword of star-steel."
"That's…" he paused, "a really good answer."
"Thanks," she laughed. The faint whine of brakes cut through the call. "My bus is here," she said.
"I guess I should let you go," he added.
"Probably. I can't drive this thing one-handed. Listen," her end crackled as she adjusted the phone, "let me know when you've got an answer, okay? I want to hear what you come up with."
"Okay," he agreed, leaning back in the park's metal chair.
"Okay," she repeated. "Bye, Steve."
"Bye, Mab." He lowered the phone, pressing the red indicator to hang up the call. He set the phone on his stack of books on the table and looked out at the city.
He couldn't think of a single thing. He'd spent a lot of time on the internet catching up with the world, learning about leaps and bounds accomplished by the generations that had followed him. They'd figured out solutions to problems he'd never considered to be issues, only annoyances. They'd made new problems and solved those, too.
But it didn't have to be for the whole world, he thought suddenly. Mab's answer had been purely selfish - something that she wanted for herself and wanted to learn to make. What did he want?
Steve's phone rang, derailing the train of thought. The caller ID read Compound. He stood, gathering his books and his jacket as he held the phone to his ear. "Rogers," he barked into the phone, all moments of peace left behind, sitting alone at a table with only one chair and looking out on a storm-washed park.
Paul stared down at the pink slip under the empty glass on the bar. A ring of condensation was slowly turning it into a pulpy mess, tearing the middle out as he lifted the glass for a refill. The buzz of alcohol wasn't helping to dim the anger and the fear he felt about being fired.
Destruction of City Property, the slip still sort of read. Wanton disregard for training practices, resulting in damage of equipment, his boss had yelled, waving the slip in his face.
Amber filled his glass and the bartender eyed him carefully, judging whether or not it was time to cut him off. But Paul wasn't ready to go home yet. How would he face his wife? She'd be furious at the news; how would they pay the mortgage? Their home-equity loan payment was due in two weeks, too. Would the electric get cut off the second they missed a payment, or would they be able to keep things running a little longer?
Paul downed the glass and the heat of the bourbon filled the fearfully cold place in his chest. He couldn't tell Janice; he'd just have to figure out a plan on his own.
A/N: Hey friends! I figured out what I wanted to do with my last loose plot point for this story, so hopefully, that'll make it a little easier to write. This chapter is a BEAST but I really didn't want to break it up. Mab and Steve are both incredibly complicated, and I wanted to give them time to have a long interaction that clearly lends itself to them both deciding they want to choose to meet again.
My thoughts on reviews: I've been having a hard time finding the motivation to write, so I actually went back through WIAS and RITD and reread all the old reviews. I loved seeing your support through the last few years - people you loved and people you hated, your reactions to the twists and turns and fluff and angst, your favorite lines and shocked betrayal. So - if you're ever wondering whether or not to ramble along for a sentence or a paragraph in that reviews box, please do. When motivation is low I often go back and re-read, and it helps.
I love my reviewers! Nekokairi, cameron1812, huffle-bibin, K Lynx, xEarthAlchemistx, Flours, and LucyBlue!
PLEASE REVIEW!