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Sep. 19th, 2012 02:29 pmAfter she sees Russell, Molly goes back to her apartment and she doesn't leave. She calls out of work, tells them that she isn't feeling well and that, no, it isn't what's going around, promises to keep up with whatever she can over her laptop. Just the fact of doing so makes her feel like shit, but she would anyway. She hears about quarantines and wonders if maybe she should go to the hospital and get checked out, but the only kind of sick she feels is with worry and residual panic, so it doesn't seem worth it to brave what's out there if she doesn't have to, to have to walk around wearing the signs of what Russell did to her. It makes her no less terrified, but better to be here on her own and scared than out there where the real danger is. She really doesn't want to wind up like that. More than that, she doesn't want to be the next fatality, either from the illness itself or someone's violent outburst, having already come too close already, and with the bruises to show for it. That just isn't a risk worth taking, not when this is all she's got.
When she goes out again, it's days later, something she doesn't actually pay any attention to until after the fact. They've come up with a cure, she's been told about it and seen it on TV; people are still sick, some still going untreated, but a lot of the immediate reasons to worry are gone, and that's enough for her. By now, it's been long enough that she knows she didn't contract the virus, too, which is just as important. She wouldn't want to have given it to anyone else, wouldn't want to have ended up like Russell and hurt anyone without knowing what she was doing.
Now, she can act like it's normal, covers her bruises with makeup, puts on a skirt and a blazer and heads out to a bar like she's done so many times. It's a step. She'll go back to work, too, now that she looks a little better, the swelling around her eye gone down, after making sure that there's no one around still displaying symptoms. For the time being, she thinks she needs this; she keeps alcohol in her apartment, but she's wanted to stay clear-headed, just in case, where she isn't concerned about that now. After days of freaking the fuck out, a drink is, she thinks, definitely deserved.
She doesn't intend on striking up conversation. Though she's out, this really doesn't seem like the time to find someone to go home with, having no way of knowing who's been around what. It isn't a guy sitting next to her anyway, and as she sips her gin and tonic, she realizes the woman isn't wholly unfamiliar. Before all this shit started going down, she meant to seek out the people behind the news show who came from her own world. In all the chaos, she forgot, making now seem like as good a time as any.
"Excuse me," she says, hopefully not so loud as to startle. "You're Mackenzie McHale, aren't you?"
When she goes out again, it's days later, something she doesn't actually pay any attention to until after the fact. They've come up with a cure, she's been told about it and seen it on TV; people are still sick, some still going untreated, but a lot of the immediate reasons to worry are gone, and that's enough for her. By now, it's been long enough that she knows she didn't contract the virus, too, which is just as important. She wouldn't want to have given it to anyone else, wouldn't want to have ended up like Russell and hurt anyone without knowing what she was doing.
Now, she can act like it's normal, covers her bruises with makeup, puts on a skirt and a blazer and heads out to a bar like she's done so many times. It's a step. She'll go back to work, too, now that she looks a little better, the swelling around her eye gone down, after making sure that there's no one around still displaying symptoms. For the time being, she thinks she needs this; she keeps alcohol in her apartment, but she's wanted to stay clear-headed, just in case, where she isn't concerned about that now. After days of freaking the fuck out, a drink is, she thinks, definitely deserved.
She doesn't intend on striking up conversation. Though she's out, this really doesn't seem like the time to find someone to go home with, having no way of knowing who's been around what. It isn't a guy sitting next to her anyway, and as she sips her gin and tonic, she realizes the woman isn't wholly unfamiliar. Before all this shit started going down, she meant to seek out the people behind the news show who came from her own world. In all the chaos, she forgot, making now seem like as good a time as any.
"Excuse me," she says, hopefully not so loud as to startle. "You're Mackenzie McHale, aren't you?"
