It's not his holiday, but Chase has made his way through a city smelling of roast bird and bright with apartment lights chasing out the early afternoon dark feeling something like one of the waifs from a Dickens' novel. He stopped off at one of the few stands open for trade and now hefts a paper bag with some kind of midwinter picnic under one arm, along with a few magazines to help the time go. Today was never going to be a day off, but there are other people for whom it should have been.
He's taking over the shift from one of them right now. And he still doesn't quite recognise her, watching from outside the glass of Wilson's private room (staff get all the perks). Her hair bright against the back of the chair, curling in a way he either never noticed before, or which used to be too dark to show.
The glass slides open quietly, his shoes as soft against the scrubbed and polished floor. Looks like Wilson's still out, and hopefully peaceful. No worry about disturbing him with the rustle of the bag of candy dropped into Cameron's lap as Chase passes her, then. He puts the rest of his wares on the trolley in the corner, glancing back to smile.
☞ and they won't pretend that they're too busy or that they're not alone
It's not his holiday, but Chase has made his way through a city smelling of roast bird and bright with apartment lights chasing out the early afternoon dark feeling something like one of the waifs from a Dickens' novel. He stopped off at one of the few stands open for trade and now hefts a paper bag with some kind of midwinter picnic under one arm, along with a few magazines to help the time go. Today was never going to be a day off, but there are other people for whom it should have been.
He's taking over the shift from one of them right now. And he still doesn't quite recognise her, watching from outside the glass of Wilson's private room (staff get all the perks). Her hair bright against the back of the chair, curling in a way he either never noticed before, or which used to be too dark to show.
The glass slides open quietly, his shoes as soft against the scrubbed and polished floor. Looks like Wilson's still out, and hopefully peaceful. No worry about disturbing him with the rustle of the bag of candy dropped into Cameron's lap as Chase passes her, then. He puts the rest of his wares on the trolley in the corner, glancing back to smile.
"Happy Thanksgiving."