(no subject)
WHO: Echo (numberonedoll) and Whiskey (was_sleeping)
WHERE: The Clinic
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WARNINGS: Probably none
SUMMARY: After this, Echo visits Whiskey at the Clinic
FORMAT: Whatever
Echo arrived at the Clinic shortly after lunchtime, finding her way there with the aid of Connor’s map. She had dressed casually for the meeting, even though it was more of a business meeting than a get-together between friends (and from when she had been taken from the timeline, she and Whiskey hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms - she still had the bruises from her fight with Clyde to prove it).
And now, she stood in the office she had been directed to when she had asked the Clinic’s receptionist for their resident Dr. Saunders, pacing the length of the room as she waited for Whiskey. She was also wringing her hands - a nervous habit of one of her many personalities, because, despite herself, she was somewhat nervous. Nervous and wary, she amended as she instinctively brought the self-defence skills many of her personalities possessed to the forefront of her brain, so they were ready to be plucked from their dormant state at a moment’s notice and put into action, just in case things took an unprecedented turn for the worst.
This was the first person from her world whom she was meeting face-to-face, rather than over the network, and, despite how much she tried, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she had willingly walked into a trap and Whiskey would turn her over to Topher or Boyd to be wiped and made more… agreeable to whatever they were plotting. But curiosity had driven her to agreeing to meet Whiskey at this Clinic where she worked and, she supposed, it might even be nice to see a familiar face again, should things stay relatively civil and calm between them.
She heaved a deep sigh and ceased her pacing, planting her hands on her hips as she watched the door through which she presumed Whiskey would soon enter. Watching, waiting and wondering… wondering how the hell this meeting would go. The air was already thick with tension; would the tension dissolve as soon as Whiskey arrived or would it become thicker still, to the point where it could no longer be stood by either of them?
Only time would tell.