fandomhigh | BWI Airport, Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

So everyone else had, like, dramatic backstories and reasons to show up here and stuff. Which was fine, you know, if you were emotionally in the zone enough to go to those kinda lengths. Denise had just been, you know, chilling with her dad last night watching some hockey guys really pound in on each other - no, seriously, really get into it. One of them broke a rib or something, which was kinda cool.

Then she'd been dropped off at the airport, gotten a ticket stuffed into her hands, and that was that. No reason to get all dramatic and touchy-feely about it.

And now it was Saturday morning and she was on the airport. Sitting around. Chugging water and listening to her discman while watching the kids down the hall, trying to figure out how they were gonna croak. Sure, there was some kind of shuttle supposed to show up, but it wasn't there yet. A girl had to keep herself busy.

She figured the dweebs starting to mill around the terminal were probably classmates or something. Lame.

[[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up! ]]

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...

"... I'll second that," she agreed, after a moment of pure horrified realization that it might just be like that. "I'd have to request permission to leave in that case."

Or hide. Very very well.

Scully contemplated that and realized she really wouldn't put it past Frohike and Langley to think they were funny that way.

"If it is, someone is getting kicked," she said in dire tones. "Very hard and personally."

"Kicking would get me nowhere," Rosalind said, resigned. "I would have to settle for e-mailing repeated requests."

Over and over and over. It was vaguely amusing to her that Reno might approve of her persistence in that case. Tseng would not.

And what a reversal that would be.

"Would the parties receiving them do anything? Or are they more likely to sent back notes about how it's for your own good?"

Could you strangle someone through the internet?

"For my own good." Rosalind held up one finger. "And 'you know the reasons'. I do, which is why I came but there are limits."

"Severe limits," Scully agreed. She grimaced. "My other options were even less attractive. But if this becomes too problematic--"

If there was a Talking Stick Circle, she was so swimming back.

"--I will drive home and stay there until other arrangements are made."

...except for how she didn't have a legal driver's license any more. Damnit.

"That would be quite the conversation if I tried that."

No, really.

"Perhaps if things are as bad as we suppose hiding elsewhere on the island may be more feasible?"

"It didn't look like a tiny island, from the map," Scully said, attempting to sound optimistic it. Somehow it was reassuring that at least one other person wasn't entirely thrilled to be here. "There was a forest." God, she hated Nature. "And a town. I think we'd be resourceful enough to elude forced socialization at least until they brought out the marshmallows."

...Yeah. Forest. Rosalind was a City Girl and happy to be so.

"There's got to be a hotel," she said hopefully. "That might make for a good place to hide."

"I am very much in favor of good hotels," Scully said determinedly. And she had Agent Dana Scully's Visa card. That would help. She quirked a smile at Rosalind. "So. Do we have an escape plan?"

And Rosalind still had her pay cheques from work. Quite hefty ones. Being a Turk paid very well.

(For good reason.)

"We'll need to hammer out the details," she mentioned, "but I think we've the basics of one."

BWI Airport, Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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Re: Waiting for the Shuttle

Re: Waiting for the Shuttle

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Re: Waiting for the Shuttle

Re: Waiting for the Shuttle