Got a two-way ticket (open)
Karolina woke up the morning after her coffee with Mac and decided she needed a break. New York was weighing her down like the proverbial world, something she hadn't realized until she'd removed the inhibitor bracelet the previous afternoon. She hated the oppressive gray of the city's slate sky, hated the way it grew up instead of out, hated the perpetual miasma of imminent crime. But most of all she hated being surrounded by people who seemed to do nothing but feel sorry for themselves. Self pity and self imposed isolation rolled off practically everybody she passed on the street. It was alternately depressing and frustrating, and she could feel it eating away at her usual good mood. Been there, done that, grew up. She had to get away from the cloying basement-coffee-shop angst that was New York before it drove her nutty.
She'd never been to Grand Central Station before, but then she hadn't come to see the sights or do the tourist thang. Fortunately the cabbie knew exactly which way to go which, she supposed, he'd have to. Grand Central was a major hub, and every cab company probably ran lines to and from it.
Even a devout West-coast girl like Karolina had to admit that the terminal was impressive. She shouldered her backpack and set her jaw, determined not to gawk like a total townie. Her warm weather clothes already screamed 'tourist!' in bright yellows and blues. She climbed the steps and squeezed her way through the outbound rivers of morning commuters. Though buffeted about by the crowd, she eventually managed to swim upstream to the ticket windows. Her elbows weren't as pointy as they had been a few years ago, but she bumped through with grim determination. Not even this temporary sabbatical was for pleasure.
"I'd like one for the twelve-forty train to North Salem, Westchester county," she said, quickly sliding her charge card under the window so that grasping fingers might not snag it on the way; she'd felt several tugs at her backpack as she'd fought the crowd. The cashier handed over her ticket and her card, which she hastily stowed away in a buttoned and velcroed pocket. Karolina clutched her pack to her chest and sidled along a wall to reach the escalators, doublechecking her ticket as she went.
The plan, such that it was, was to walk right up to the gates of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and inquire as to the whereabouts of one Molly Hayes. As the youngest of the runaways, it was entirely possible that Molly had gone back to normal life at some point. Though, as a mutant, 'normal' for her was limited almost exclusively to Xavier's establishments. Gert had busted her out of one of those dorms before, and Karolina had no doubt that any of them could have done it a second time, but maybe Molly had decided she'd wanted a real home, with real parents, not a bunch of clueless teenagers and a lair under the LaBrea tar pits. And even if not, the smallest chance existed that she might convince the Professor to use his Psychic-Helmet to search her out.
"That's assuming I can even get past the front gate," Karolina slumped on a hard wooden bench and propped her chin atop her backpack. Her train wouldn't arrive for another half hour, which gave her only too much time to contemplate all the holes in her 'plan'. But visits to the police hadn't turned up anything (except a lingering warrant for her own arrest), and she was going stir crazy here. She needed some sunlight and open sky, and at the very least she'd find that in Westchester.
She'd never been to Grand Central Station before, but then she hadn't come to see the sights or do the tourist thang. Fortunately the cabbie knew exactly which way to go which, she supposed, he'd have to. Grand Central was a major hub, and every cab company probably ran lines to and from it.
Even a devout West-coast girl like Karolina had to admit that the terminal was impressive. She shouldered her backpack and set her jaw, determined not to gawk like a total townie. Her warm weather clothes already screamed 'tourist!' in bright yellows and blues. She climbed the steps and squeezed her way through the outbound rivers of morning commuters. Though buffeted about by the crowd, she eventually managed to swim upstream to the ticket windows. Her elbows weren't as pointy as they had been a few years ago, but she bumped through with grim determination. Not even this temporary sabbatical was for pleasure.
"I'd like one for the twelve-forty train to North Salem, Westchester county," she said, quickly sliding her charge card under the window so that grasping fingers might not snag it on the way; she'd felt several tugs at her backpack as she'd fought the crowd. The cashier handed over her ticket and her card, which she hastily stowed away in a buttoned and velcroed pocket. Karolina clutched her pack to her chest and sidled along a wall to reach the escalators, doublechecking her ticket as she went.
The plan, such that it was, was to walk right up to the gates of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and inquire as to the whereabouts of one Molly Hayes. As the youngest of the runaways, it was entirely possible that Molly had gone back to normal life at some point. Though, as a mutant, 'normal' for her was limited almost exclusively to Xavier's establishments. Gert had busted her out of one of those dorms before, and Karolina had no doubt that any of them could have done it a second time, but maybe Molly had decided she'd wanted a real home, with real parents, not a bunch of clueless teenagers and a lair under the LaBrea tar pits. And even if not, the smallest chance existed that she might convince the Professor to use his Psychic-Helmet to search her out.
"That's assuming I can even get past the front gate," Karolina slumped on a hard wooden bench and propped her chin atop her backpack. Her train wouldn't arrive for another half hour, which gave her only too much time to contemplate all the holes in her 'plan'. But visits to the police hadn't turned up anything (except a lingering warrant for her own arrest), and she was going stir crazy here. She needed some sunlight and open sky, and at the very least she'd find that in Westchester.