looks like a girl but she's a flame

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

Who: J and the people of Moira!
When: 5/2 - 5/8
Where: Mostly J's room at Mero Deck.
What: Catch all for J's post resurge + cryo-time!
Warnings: Talk/mentions of character death, violence, depressive behaviour



OPEN - 5/3 - 5/8

The following days were covered in a thick, dreamlike yet numbing haze. Days were either agonisingly long and slow or then confusingly short and quick, either way it was difficult to take a grasp of them as the daytime and night melted into together. J spent most of the time in bed, swaying between the state of sleep and awake. There's moments when she gets up, sits in front of her make up table and starts to prepare her face but never gets too far before giving up and moving back to the bed.

Leaving the room became more seldom for her as the days went by and soon the only time she actually could force herself to go out was when she couldn't ignore the hunger any longer. It wasn't exactly the fear that made her stay inside the four walls (even though it definitely lingered in the air each time she opens the door) but rather suffocating feeling of frustration. She's frustrated and angry with herself for feeling so helpless and lost, for not being able to break through the mute spell the same way she had done many years ago.

Of course, her current situation is nothing like the one she had back in the orphanage and there's no need for her to isolate herself like this. It's not like she had completely lost her ability to communicate, after all she still could write and send messages with her MID. On top of that, there's two jobs waiting for her to return and she actually did feel little bad for leaving Miles to deal with bar all by himself. But still, none of that was enough to silence the voice in her mind that's constantly telling her not to bother.

(will match either to prose or action tags!)

Comments

Bruce - cryo

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[J wakes up feeling exhausted like never before, her every muscle in body felt stiff and sore, weighing a ton, making it difficult to move. At first, she thinks of just staying still, doze off ans let the sleep claim her once again-- but she knew that wouldn't do. She's had enough sleep and that it was now time to get up.

With clumsy and awkward movements she sits up and blinks her eyes open. For a moment, looks around her surroundings, feeling confused and lost as all the disjointed memories and thoughts stormed through her mind, each piece trying to find their rightful places and links to create a full picture of what was going on. For a while, she could only remember the faces of the captains, the one woman who was always around the Medbay and the only male Captain, the one who looked always either scared or sick.

However, (un)fortunately it doesn't take a long until it all comes crashing back to her. The fight on observation deck. The blood. Peter getting stabbed, dying. And then-- Oh.

Yes, that's right. She had died there.

Carefully, J moves her shaking hand to touch her side, where the killing blow had landed. There's nothing. She's alright.

J takes another moment, her breathing heavy and slow, before she stands up, deciding to deal this the same way she's always dealt with hardships in her life: by brushing them under the rug. There's no need to let it hurt you more than it already has. Her first steps are a little shaky, but she manages to gain the control over her stiff limbs quickly and walks out. However, she doesn't get too far before she comes across the first familiar face. ]

[hyperkinesia]

[ Bruce is a rational person. He doesn't often give into fancies of emotion, luck, or hope, but sometimes hope is all he has. And it's a stupid thing, probably, when rationally he's already told himself that J's not coming back after so long being gone, but every day, every single time he checks up on the cryo units for whatever maintenance and repairs he needs to help with, he can't help but shoot a hopeful glance at them in hopes of finding her there.

It's no use, he tells himself. He knew the chances of revival before, so he knew this was a possibility, that her death would be permanent. He's gone back to his routine with that in mind, trying not to expect a miracle because miracles don't happen. He's starting to think that the few revivals in the past had only been a fluke, and he may as well accept that it's not going to happen again.

So he thinks, anyway.

So that day, when he steps into the medbay and makes his way to the cryo units, the last thing he expects is to find J awake and up, if looking slightly unsteady on her feet. Despite the hope a small part of him had been holding onto, shock takes him completely now, his eyes wide and mouth hanging a little open like he's not really sure this is real or his eyes are just tricking him.

His feet move on their own eventually, and he steps closer to her, already within reach by the time he manages to speak up. ] J? My God, you're... you're here.

[ Uncharacteristically so, he reaches out to touch her, settling a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling like he's making sure she's real and solid. He smiles and breathes out a chuckle, still tainted with disbelief. ]

We thought you were... [ Dead. But he chokes on the word before he gets to say it. And she was dead, after all, even if it was temporary. ] You weren't coming back. It looked like it. I'm... Jesus. I'm so happy to see you.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[It takes a moment for her to process all of what's happening. Bruce approaching, the strange astounded yet relieved on his face, his words and the careful touch on her shoulder.

J blinks her eyes few times and slightly parts her lips then closing her mouth again as his words registers, sinking in and for a brief beat, she's left speechless. She's not exactly surprised to find out that Bruce heard about her death or that it had affected him. After all she did like him very much and could tell that her feelings of camaraderie was returned by him. But still, there was the part in her that had (and still was) always told her that in the long-run people would only brush off her death and move on with their lives, eventually forgetting that she had existed.

I'm so happy to see you. Such a simple sentence alone is enough to spark something warm inside her, making her curve her lips up into a small, clumsy smile.

"Bruce". she says, intending to call out his name to let him know that she's happy to see him too.

But as she moves her mouth there's no voice coming out.]

[hyperkinesia]

[ She would, of course. Even after everything, she still would think her friendship wouldn't mean that much, or her absence wouldn't be felt so deeply among the ones who care about her. But even knowing (or hoping) she could come back, Bruce still missed her, still worried, and still mourned, if nothing else then for the way she died.

And he wasn't the only one. He knows Peter mourned as much as he blamed himself, and it's likely his reaction will be even more intense than Bruce's. But he doesn't think of that much right now— he doesn't even think about whether or not he should let others know she's back yet.

He's smiling again, happier when she smiles too, and he almost leans in and wraps his arms around her in a hug, but then she opens her mouth to say his name (it's clear that she's mouthing it, too), and no sound comes out. His expression shifts into a small frown, and he looks a little more concerned when he steps closer. ]

What's wrong? [ He gestures at her throat as a request to take a look. ] Does it hurt?

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[When J sees Bruce's expression to turn from relieved to more worried and surprised one, J also knits her brows in a confusion, mimicking him. The lack of her own voice had completely past her. Everything's still covered in a jarring haze, making all her senses blurry and disoriented.

She watches carefully as his lips move, sound of his words reaching to her ears but the meaning behind not quite registering. Hesitantly, she reaches to place hand on top of his on her shoulder, tilting her head slightly as she tries to read him. Only when he starts to gesture at her throat she seems to understand what he's trying to tell her.

"What--?"

Her lips move once again without making any kind of sound -- but this time the realization of that reaches J, making her stomach drop and body freezing still, eyes widening in a shock and the gentle touch of her hand turning into more harsh grip.

This can't be happening.]

Miles - Nomo Deck

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[She doesn't even realize that she's in the wrong deck before she's standing in front of her previous room's door on Nomo Deck. She had been so lost in her thoughts and hadn't paid much attention to where she was going, trusting her feet to take her back to room on Mero Deck. Old habits die hard, it seems.

Curiously, she testes the door and gives it a push, finding out that it's indeed open. Really, Sans and others really should be more careful with locking their door. She steps inside, quickly scanning the room, mainly the part used to be 'her side.' Her bed is neatly made and most of her stuff was gone, save for the some make up that on the table that she hadn't yet moved. And then there was still the full-body mirror set to rest against the wall next to the bed.

Without any hesitation, she moves to stand in front of the mirror, taking a long good look at herself. She looks a bit tired with her eyes lazy and groggy, hair lacking the shine, curls falling flat on her shoulders. She didn't have any make up on her face and she was wearing the Moira uniform instead of her usual "get up." But other than that? She looks about the same as always. Everything's fine and nothing has changed.

Except for her voice.

She pulls her lips back, drawing them into a thin, anxious line and she's just about to turn around and walk away when she sees them. A few extra fair hairs, growing right under her ear-- something that one wouldn't normally notice if they didn't know to look. Perfectly harmless yes, but at the same the last drop for her. J opens her mouth and begins to scream at her reflection in the mirror.

But no matter how much she screams and tries to force her voice out, there's nothing but silence. The misery, frustration and anger finally becomes too much for her to bear and the hot tears starts to fall from her eyes, stinging and burning her cheeks. After a minute or two, when her face is all red and messy from all the crying, J stops her screaming and grabs one of the containers from the table and throws it at her reflection. The container slams on the mirror's surface with a loud clang-sound, failing to break it.

Feeling absolutely defeated, she gives up and leaves the room, not bothering to close the door behind her, and rushes the hallways of the Nomo Deck.]

Re: Miles - Nomo Deck

[forwardmomentum]

[ miles is just coming back to the vorkabin from his office, not hideously overworked for a change, but he somehow still doesn't see J coming before she just about collides with him. he manages only a glancing blow of his shoulder against her before he manages to dodge sideways out of a full-on collision, but he stops there, looking at her in shock. not quite like he's seen a ghost -- he knew she'd come back -- but his eyes are still wide, and then immensely relieved. ]

J! [ it comes out startled, and then miles lets out a breath. ] I didn't know you were -- I didn't know you were back.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[J's feeling too upset and her eyes are too full of tears that she barely registers him even as they nearly collide, shoulders gracing against each other. Only after he calls her by name does she stop, all of her muscles freezing still. Then, with uncertain movements, she turns around to look at him. At first her eyes are wide and gaze unseeing but they slowly turn more clear, as if she's waking up from a dream.

Face red and smeared in tears and snot she takes a moment to just stare at him. Normally, having someone to see in her such devastated and messy state of mind would have made her feel embarrassed, or angry. But not with Mr. Miles. Seeing him standing there right in front of him makes her feel warm and simply glad.

She wants to call out his name, too. She wants so desperately answer him but she knows she can't and it suddenly weighs heavily on her, almost crushing.

Taking a deep breath, J takes few quick steps closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck, crouching a little as she rests her head on top of his shoulder.]

[forwardmomentum]

[ miles, taken aback, staggers back a step, but his arms go around her just as soon in support. he and J are friends now, of a sort, but he still wasn't expecting this kind of reception. a joke in poor taste, maybe a smile -- but it occurs to him belatedly that before she'd thrown himself at him, she'd looked like she'd been crying. ]

Um, hello, J... [ a slightly breathy laugh escapes him, more a startled reaction than anything, and he pulls back, hands on her upper arms, to look at her in mildly bemused concern. his brow knits. ] Are you alright? What happened?

Peter - Mero Deck

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[After her blazing indignation has been subdued and she's calmed down, J decides to take a look at the network to see what had happened while she was gone. However, she couldn't quite focus on reading the posts but instead pays more attention to the dates. She goes through the network until she comes across her own post from the night when the fight happened, suddenly feeling very cold.

Three weeks. She's lost almost three weeks from her life.

She starts going through the posts again, this time really trying to read some of them. Most of them seem to be pretty normal to her there's lot of talk about usual foolery and confusion about the mail delivery. But among them, there's few posts that catches her attention, ones where she sees words such as 'programs' and 'rinzler ' getting dropped quite often, strangely enough always more or less in the context of human rights. Maybe it's the morbid curiosity that makes her to open the directory and enters the word "Rinzler" to the search. When the imagine of familiar dark figure with bright orange lights appears on the screen J freezes, feeling a cold shiver run through her back.

There's a brief moment when she just stands stills and does nothing but stares at the screen, expression completely blank. Then, after a minute or two, she closes her MID with a shaky breath escaping between her lips. She's not exactly sure what she had expected the crew to do with him, as so far all murderers have pretty much just gotten a slap on a wrist and then let to continue their everyday living like nothing happened.

Not wanting to give any more room for the anxiety or fear, J gives herself a mental push-- forcing herself to continue moving.]

this is so long, I'm sorry for the novel

[takeitslow]

[Everything about the month before has been tearing at him, turning him from someone sarcastic and light to just tired, bitter. The fallout from his and Alice's plan had hurt more than he could expect, forcing him to face the reality of his own mistakes and feel the disappointment of the few people here he really loved. And then he'd tried to fix it, to do better and make up for his failure. To make them proud.

He'd screwed that up too.

He didn't make anything right, he set the crew on fire. Everyone was angry and wanted someone to blame, and of course Peter made himself an easy target, too upset with the hypocrisy to realize he was fanning flames. It didn't matter. The ship had long since begun to lose it's shine, and this was just another layer of filth to add to it. No one had ever cared about his kind, he shouldn't be so bitter that remained true.

But none of that was weighing on him quite so much as she was. His hand in what happened to her was a constant thought, always at the back of his mind and waiting to stab at his heart if he lingered on it too much. He kept looking for her, wanting so bad to believe Sans was right and she really would return. That he'd turn a corner and there she'd be, dressed to kill and a tease ready at her lips. He kept turning up at the bar every night, sticking by the door and watching the counter. Hoping against all common sense she'd be there.

But time kept moving on and even his desperate desire to believe in Sans couldn't hold on against facts. J was gone and it was Peter's fault. And he's not been taking it well.

So when he sees a familiar figure in the distance, his first thought it that he's honestly starting to lose it.

He stops, stills in a way he very rarely ever does. Breath frozen in his lungs, muscles locked in place. It feels like dream, it he moves he'll wake up and she'll disappear. If he moves, it'll become the nightmares he refuses to tell anyone he's been having. If he moves, she'll be gone and he's so tired of seeing her go.

She moves first and it kicks him back into gear, stumbling forward in some blind panic to keep track of her. He follows her at an entirely human pace, letting the pit in his stomach grow and grow until it starts to get hard to breathe. Even trying to match her steps, he can't and he's getting too close and he's reaching out for her without conscious thought and-]


J?

[It comes out weak, a whisper of a frightened child in the dark. Too loud and he'll break the moment. He doesn't quite touch her, can't bring himself too. His hand falls back to his side and he waits.

This is going to turn back into a nightmare. She'll turn to him bloody, casting blame. Or he'll wake up, mind too cruel in it's guilt to let him have this.

He still wants to see her.]

Noooo I love it.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[The voice makes J jump forward almost stumbling on her feet, feeling the unsettling panic quickly running through her, making each of muscle stiffen and eyes widening. There would be a cry if she had a voice. She had been so sure that there she was alone just a moment ago. With a rash and swift movements she spins around on her heels to see who the approacher was, her golden locks swaying in the air.

And the moment she sees Peter's face all the worry, terror, confusion and anger disappears are all washed away from her by a warm wave of relief.

Peter had been the constantly in her mind ever since her wake up. He was both the person she both wanted to see the most and the one who she wanted to avoid the most. First one because of the obvious worry and concern about his well being. She had heard that he survived from the fight and was now recovered from his injuries, and even though she didn't doubt her sources, it wasn't the same as seeing it for yourself. The latter, however, was because of this inexplicable and childish fear about what would happen if she were to meet him. The wake up, remembering the events from her death, voice lost-- all that had left her feeling lost about everything, including herself, and she feared that she wouldn't be strong enough to keep herself together for him.

But now that he's standing here, right before her, none of that mattered and J can only feel relief and comfort when looking at him, like a huge weight had been lifted from her heart.

However, even though he's alive and uninjured J can see that he's not okay. He's pale like a sheet and his expression can only be described as haunted. And it's not like she can exactly blame him for not jumping from excitement upon seeing her again. Thing's must've been rough for him with dealing with the aftermath of the fight and recovering from the injuries-- and of course, witnessing her death. She knows from experience that nothing is the same after seeing someone they know to die in front of them.

For the first time ever in her life, J feels actually glad for not being able to speak. There are just way too many things she needs and wants to say to him but all the words are disjointed in her mind, brain unable to form sentences around them.

So, as using words isn't applicable for her she takes steps closer to him, slowly raises her hand to touch his cheek gently, her own expression softening]

[takeitslow]

[That first half second of watching her turn makes him feel like someone's ground up glass into his lungs. She looks so upset. So angry and he's so stupid. Of course she's upset, of course she's angry. He has no right to come near her after what he's caused. Nightmare or reality, he should know to stay away.

She's going to hate him, she already hates him. It's all one and the same.

When she reaches out, Peter expects to be slapped. To be punched or kicked or screamed at. It's no less than he deserves. It's why he stays still; he'll let her have whatever revenge she wants. He owes her that. He owes her so much.

But she doesn't hit him, she just touches him. Soft, gentle. Almost hesitant. She touches him like he's not the worst thing that ever happened to her, like he's not a screw up who taken so much from her aready. Like they're still okay, like they're still intact. Like maybe he hasn't ruined this.

He can't keep still anymore, he can't just stand there when J's right in front of him and maybe still his whatever-they-been. Quickly, but with a practiced carefulness -because she's special and important and he physically can't bring himself to hurt her anymore than he has- he pulls her into his arms. He pulls her as close as he can without crushing her, one arm around the small of her back and the other hand cupping the back of her head. He presses his face against her hair and slowly finds the ability to breath again.

Peter can feel the minute rise and fall of her chest, he can feel the warmth in her skin. She's alive.

She's alive.

His eyes burn with tears that he doesn't know how long he can old back. She might still try to slap him, might still push him away. But in the space of seconds he has before that, he presses a kiss to her temple and relishes that some higher force has enough kindness to give him the chance to do this again.

J's alive, and, oh hell, has he missed her.]

Sans - J's room

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[The day's been the longest one of her entire life, not to mention emotionally taxing. All the fear, anger, frustration, relief and misery that J had experienced within a very short time had left her feeling numb and empty. She didn't have any more tears left either. So, when she's finally alone in her room she falls on her bed, not even bothering to change out of her clothes.

Burying her face in the pillow, she closes her eyes and waits for the sleep to come. Funny how someone who's just spent three weeks in a cryo chamber could feel this inclined to go back to sleep right away.

When she next time opens her eyes there's a brief moment when she wonders how long had she been out of it, as she didn't remember falling asleep. She quickly shrugs those thoughts off and J turns to face the wall in her bed, intending to continue her sleep. But, when shifting on the bed she feels a familiar weight on the mattress,one that certainly wasn't there before. J doesn't even need to raise her head to look at it to know what-- no, who it was. And for the first time during the whole day, J feels content and safe. That the things truly were okay now.]

[skelepun]

[J's return swept through the ship in whispers and hushed conversations, set alongside many similar conversations that occurred since her death. Paired against names like Rinzler and words like recoding, she became a figure in a debate. A martyr or a misdirection, depending on who you talked to.

For Sans, she was simply missing. A hole in his life that he would need to wait before it could fill in once more; a feeling he knows all too well. And when mentions of her return reach Sans, he doesn't break stride right then and there and go running. Her time is about to be very in demand, of that Sans is sure, and fighting for a piece of it goes against his instinct.

Instead, Sans lets the flow of the day carry him through like a river. He works, he gets some dinner, he accustoms himself to the feeling of emptiness slowly wearing in again. Maybe the choice to wait was as much for his own benefit as it was for hers.

With a breath, he scrapes the remains of his tray out into the trash, turns, and--

J's room is dark, but Sans can still make out the lines and shapes around him. There in bed, right where she should be, was J. And with that, Sans finally lets go of the breath he's been holding in for weeks.]

Two weeks wasn't enough of a nap for ya? Heh, and you call me lazy.

[It's a few hours before J stirs again, and Sans luckily had the foresight to bring along a crossword puzzle. The page is illuminated by his left eye, dim blue casting interesting shadows around the room. When the mattress stirs, Sans looks up, deep bags under his eye sockets receding slightly.

He sets the crossword down, eye dimming back to a friendly and familiar white light.]

Hey, sweetheart.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[She doesn't response to him right away, but instead let's her mind go back to the events when their positions were switched. Sans had had just came back from the death and she had hauled him violently off his bed to the floor and closed him to embrace-- finally allowing him inside to her heart. It feels like that had happened a lifetime ago, instead of just few months. That was also when he gave her the rarely used 'sweetheart.'

That event had been defining point in their relationship, giving them a direction where to continue going.

Part of her wondered whether things were to remain the same or what happened to her would open yet another door for them.

Then, slowly, J gets up and moves to sit next to him, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her legs. There's a trace of a smile on her lips, one that doesn't even come close in reaching her eyes.]

[skelepun]

Whoa, hey, don't get up on my account. [He reminds her gently, voice equal parts apologetic and fond. He's tired too, but nowhere near as tired as she still looks.

There's something different about her, but he can hardly blame her. Resurgence is... well, it's a process. There are the things you learn, sure, but in Sans' opinion it's the things you gain that change you the most. Knowing death, knowing it intimately...

A younger him might wish he could take that knowledge away from her, but wishing the past away was something he weened himself off long ago.]

You should get your rest.

[niffin]

"Hey,"

Alice taps at the door around midday, hesitates a moment (listening) before quietly spelling the lock. It slides open before her, but she still lingers in the doorway, eyes drifting to find J, head tipping to the side.

"Sorry for the door. I wasn't sure if —" You could walk yet. "I mean, I'm not going to come in unless it's okay."

There's something under her arm, a small, wrapped bundle. The paper looks like it was torn out of a notebook, stippled with small pink lines and flowers. A long, sparkly bottle pokes out of her jacket pocket, clearly filched from the bar.

"But I brought something for you."

She's trying not to show the trepidation she feels. It's not what needs focus now. But her voice is still breathy, uncertain.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

J's half awake when Alice's calls for her outside of the door, the voice barely making it to her consciousness, only making her stir a little on the bed. However, the sound of the lock opening on its own is something that's enough to break her frail dream-like state. J's eyes snap wide open and she hurries to sit up on the bed, feeling the cold shiver running through her back.

Although all reminiscences of panic fades away immediately and is replaced by the confusion when J sees who's standing in her doorway. She somewhat remembers Alice as the woman whose mouth seemed to run faster than her brain, the first person who came to get a haircut from her. She also remembers how Alice had looked simply awful to her eyes with her messy and chipped hair. Funny how their roles were reserved now, as J's own hair is simply out of control, her golden curls tangled into a mess, her skin pale that it only highlands the dark bags under her eyes.

Now, what in the Earth brings her here?

Her eyes are focused to under her arm as she examines the colorful paper, arching her eyebrow up a little, before moving back to up meet hers. A long and deep sigh escapes from between her lips and the tension from her shoulders eases, making her relax a bit more. She doesn't exactly invite her inside but doesn't really look like she's going to chase her away either.

TEXT - 5/3

[squadgoals]

[At a reasonable hour, around noonish, J receives a text from a person whose name she has never seen before.]

Hi there,

We've never met before, but my name is Shepard, and I saw your network post on the night you passed away. I heard you'd been re-surged, and wanted to get in touch. I was too late to save you from what happened, and I wanted to apologize for that. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

All the best,
Shepard

[She looks the message over, and sends it out. Knowing that you've died is a weird feeling. Might even help to talk to someone who's been through it.]

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[The sound of the MID informing from a new message is enough to disturb J and shake her awake from her half-asleep state. Lazily, she shifts on the bed and opens her MID intending to give the unread message a look. But when her eyes settles upon on the name of the sender, reading "Shepard", she ends up closing her inbox -- not being able to muster up enough interest to see what a stranger has to say to her. And so, she turns on the bed and falls asleep once again.

The day goes by and the Shepard's message stays untouched and ignored in J's inbox, as she's being distracted by the other visitors that drops by on the same day.

Only when it's late to the evening, nearly a night, she remembers the forgotten message and gives it a second look, this time opening. She really appreciates that this Shepard person had enough tact and used the text function instead of sending an awkward video or voice mail. She might not be the best speller out there but this really saves her lot of trouble. After reading the message she first thinks of not replying to it. She didn't know this person and didn't have anything to say to her. Why should she care about her stupid guilt for not making it in time?

However, after thinking about it for a while she types her reply and presses send]

its fine.

[There. Short and sweet.]

[squadgoals]

[Despite the time, a message pings back almost instantly.]

Alright. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

[There's a pause, then another message comes through.]

If you ever want to talk to someone who went through something similar, I'm a text away, and I bring enough alcohol to share.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

[No, she doesn't want to talk about what she went through with anyone, especially not with some stranger. The death, resurgence. All of it feels way too personal.

Again, she's about to leave it at that but then gives her suggestion a second thought. ]

you can bring the alcohol.

05/03

[beautifulspaceraptor]

The footsteps outside the door aren't human. There's the distinctive clicks of what sounded like claws against metal. They stop in front of her door and there's a long pause. Then they move away again before coming back, closer and stopping again.

This time, there's a muffled shuffle and very quiet thump of something being placed down followed by a long stretch of silence.

The clicks start up again, moving away once more.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

When J hears the eerie sound, that she believes to be footsteps, coming closer she stops everything she was doing and turns her head to stare the closed door while listening carefully each click. As the steps eventually stops in front of her doorway her body tenses up a little, waiting rather nervously what's going to happen next, sort of expecting the creature to whom the footsteps belonged to knock on her door.

However, the knock doesn't come and the sound starts again, this time moving away. J lets out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and relaxes, slumping back on the bed. But before she has time to even shut her eyes she hears them returning once again, stopping right in front of her doorway -- this time dropping something.

Without being able to control her curiosity she gets up and walks to the door, grabbing on the handle but doesn't dare to open it just yet. She presses her ear against the door and listens as the creature leaves.

After a minute or two, when she's sure that she's alone, J slowly pushes her door open and casts her glance right down on her doorstep.