Who really knows best?

[bondedgryphon]

Who: Zhaneel and Rumlow
What: Zhaneel is going to make poor life choices
Where: Rumlow's Room
When: Early morning June 6th
Warnings: Let's say violence, because it might get there and quickly, lmao. ;__;



Zhaneel had been laying low in her room for several days, having discovered the disappearance of both Sam and Alec shortly after one another. She'd found them nowhere, checking any of the familiar locations that either frequented. She had been closer to Alec, but both men had understood aspects of her own world that she didn't feel the other residents did; mostly because she's not had prolonged conversation with any of them.

In that time, she's had plenty of time to mull over what Rumlow had said to her about finding someone to teach her how to 'straighten her spine.' She also knew perfectly well about both Coulson and Coraline, and while Coulson's death had been blamed on Rumlow, Cashmere had planted enough doubt as to Rumlow's guilt in Coraline's and the possibility that it had been the staff instead. While this didn't remove his guilt over Coulson's murder, she'd also seen quite a bit in the recent dream broadcasts to call some question over who was really guilty.

All in all, it was enough to confuse her and bring to question what she herself had been raised to believe.

It had been early when she'd gone down for breakfast; early enough that no one else was yet awake to see her come or go. No one that would see the extra portions she brought with her back from breakfast.

She navigates the halls, finding them all as empty as the buffet and lobby had been. She knew where Rumlow's room was, and for some reason she had chosen to keep this bit of information quiet. He terrified her, but there was more to it than that... she'd seen what he'd survived and come out on top of. He'd told her to find someone to train and toughen her up.

She shifts the plate and cup to one hand, lifting her now free one to knock on room 119. It's a tentative knock and when she quickly draws back her hand, it's shaking visibly.

"He-hello?" Her voice is low and as tentative as her knock had been, and it's possible he won't even answer the door. She glances up and down the hallway quickly, unsettled and a bundle of nerves.

Comments

[ukase]

The only reason that he had bothered to go back to his room for a few hours of shut-eye was because he hadn't found anywhere better and if he didn't want to open the door, no one was getting in as far as he could tell. He'd tried and failed to pick some locks on the other doors, and there weren't any particularly secure places for more than light dozing. He could play catch up in the room assigned to him, so he had taken the risk to sneak back to it for as much shut-eye as he could get.

Yet, he was up early in the morning, preparing to get himself a quick bite to eat if he could risk doing so before disappearing down stairs. He certainly wasn't staying in his room that was for sure; he'd go mental cooped up in a single room. Besides, he was not a man who hid from challenge, least of all in a crappy hotel. He had things to do and avenues to explore.

He paused in pulling a new clean shirt at the tentative knock, turning his head before he slowly approached to listen. Ah, he knew that small meek little voice, and he'd feel bad for her if he wasn't so tired of that kind of bullshit. Slowly he pulled open the door a crack, noting that she was the only one standing in front of it and held his only weapon at his side in case there was another out of his sight.

"Spilling popcorn or something again?"