Aug. 12th, 2010

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after this:

Carl's room is getting to be quite familiar, Trudy reflects as she helps him through the door. This isn't, she thinks, a bad thing.

Still, thank god for elevators. Just because she could, if needed, carry him up the stairs doesn't mean she ever wants to. Besides, there was a promise of something down in the bar, made with a kiss and all their glances, and she doesn't want that promise to be broken.

"Here we go," Trudy says, shutting the door behind them (and locking it) and watching him carefully. Despite the cheer, there is a genuine edge of worry to her gaze.

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Trudy Chacon

March 2020

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