(no subject)

[ellectrical]

It's taken three days, but after getting to sleep at seven the previous night, Elle has managed to get up at an hour early enough to be in the kitchen before X.

It's still dark outside. She'd pulled herself up off the sofa in X's living room, where she'd been sleeping every night since crossing over to X's world. In bare feet, and as quietly as possible, she had crossed the room to the tile floor of the kitchen, and began to open cupboards and drawers. The cats, no longer wakened easily or rushing up to beg for food, made the whole process easier.

But –

Elle doesn't miss the cats. Not exactly. But X's silence seemed a whole lot louder now that it couldn't be broken by mewing and the shuffling of paws.

She moves to the refrigerator first, pulling out milk, a carton of eggs, and butter. The grocery shopping – she'd done the grocery shopping two days earlier. And X had said thank you.

Quietly.

From a cupboard, she pulls out a small mixing bowl and frying pan. A whisk comes out of a drawer. The pan is left on the top of the stove, while she takes the bowl and whisk to the table, and places them next to the eggs. They're cracked, one at a time, and emptied into the bowl – she doesn't use a smaller bowl to check that they're still good.

She's forgotten the salt, spatula, butter knife, and bread. It's not too bad, for her.




But the thing about keeping quiet, about trying to stay hidden from X-23, is that no matter how quiet you are, you can't do it forever.

Or even for very long.

Comments

[cutting_edgex23]

X says nothing as she emerges from her room, bare feet silent against the floorboards.

She makes one concession, and that is to move closer to the kitchen, poised halfway between the door and the table --

Waiting.

(Every line of egress is within visual distance.)