“I'll email you while I'm waiting, might as well send one while you're expecting it.” Rick's description of himself prompted an amused little snort, and he'd hear Sam's smile in her “See you soon.” It wasn't even a real chuckle, but the momentary amusement was a welcome one.
10/10 cliche use. But a jacket over a pullover? It's only spring, sure, but how is he not baking in a bunnyhug and coat? A trivial question, especially in comparison to the long list of very pressing questions (was Noemi going to be okay? What the fuck had snatched her away? Why? Where was it now? Did it have a face to break? How would they find it? How would they get Noemi grabbed away from it? She'd used magic to make the wraithlike Alister-amalgamation solid enough to seize beneath her hands, could she haul Noemi to safety the same way?) but it wasn't like Sam could keep a thought from occurring to her. If she could... she wouldn't. A moment of 'wait, what?' was still a brief break from being worried. That worry would be plain on her face when Rick found her; a woman, his own age or a little older, with pretty features and ink everywhere. Neck down, one elbow up, one elbow out, lots on both legs, if the limited view her torn and run-riddled jeans afforded was an indication. She stood on seeing Rick, certain of him with the flash of what looked like recognition in his aura, and moved to meet him. She had a hitch in her step, present but not terribly pronounced, but walked without wincing.
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10/10 cliche use. But a jacket over a pullover? It's only spring, sure, but how is he not baking in a bunnyhug and coat? A trivial question, especially in comparison to the long list of very pressing questions (was Noemi going to be okay? What the fuck had snatched her away? Why? Where was it now? Did it have a face to break? How would they find it? How would they get Noemi grabbed away from it? She'd used magic to make the wraithlike Alister-amalgamation solid enough to seize beneath her hands, could she haul Noemi to safety the same way?) but it wasn't like Sam could keep a thought from occurring to her. If she could... she wouldn't. A moment of 'wait, what?' was still a brief break from being worried. That worry would be plain on her face when Rick found her; a woman, his own age or a little older, with pretty features and ink everywhere. Neck down, one elbow up, one elbow out, lots on both legs, if the limited view her torn and run-riddled jeans afforded was an indication. She stood on seeing Rick, certain of him with the flash of what looked like recognition in his aura, and moved to meet him. She had a hitch in her step, present but not terribly pronounced, but walked without wincing.
“Hi.”