Dr. Wanda Langkowski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
soulthatwanders) wrote2013-05-18 11:58 pm
soulthatwanders) wrote2013-05-18 11:58 pm
Non, je ne regrette rien (I just don't know it yet)
She had options, Wanda knew, as she set out into the night at a brisk pace that only a few careful, rational thoughts were keeping from being a blind panic. Sure, she was probably going to completely lose it if she was left alone with herself for much longer, but she had options as to fix this immediate problem, so it really wasn't that much of a problem at all, was it?
There was Bruce, of course. Seeking him out was her first instinct, actually, and not only because it was late and she knew he kept weird hours. He'd proven himself pretty adept at making her forget the issues that plagued her, at least temporarily, and that was really all she needed just then. Considering the nature of what she'd just been through, though, she'd probably be better off avoiding him for a little while, lest she make certain unwitting connections in her mind.
She could go bother Peter instead, she supposed. It wasn't as if he had anyone else around to worry about waking up these days, and the thought was such a randomly cruel one that Wanda had to physically clap her hands over her mouth to hold back a peal of likely-hysterical laughter. Of course, then she'd probably have to end up explaining just why this was all so significant, and while she still wasn't 100% certain of the answer herself, she knew it probably involved certain revelations about the turns her private life had taken of late that she was not in any shape to tackle.
There was always the Compound. There were always people in the Compound, and she suspected a shoulder to lean on wasn't what she needed, anyway, just the simple reassurance that came with not being completely isolated with her increasingly anxious, circling thoughts. Even a book to distract herself and a total stranger sitting on the opposite end of the room would do the trick, in that case.
It was a combination of factors that made up her mind in the end. Mostly she just acknowledged one, though: she was tired, and he was close. Besides, maybe there was something to be said for first instincts.
When she got to Bruce's place, out of breath and slightly disheveled (she was getting pretty sure that the t-shirt she'd hastily pulled on was actually inside-out), she finally hesitated. Honestly unable to decide whether this was a bad idea or not, she knocked only lightly, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear it, wouldn't answer, solving the dilemma for her. And then what? Maybe she'd just sit on the damn ground outside his house and wrack her brain about why this was hitting her so hard until the sun came up.
Yeah, that'll do it.
There was Bruce, of course. Seeking him out was her first instinct, actually, and not only because it was late and she knew he kept weird hours. He'd proven himself pretty adept at making her forget the issues that plagued her, at least temporarily, and that was really all she needed just then. Considering the nature of what she'd just been through, though, she'd probably be better off avoiding him for a little while, lest she make certain unwitting connections in her mind.
She could go bother Peter instead, she supposed. It wasn't as if he had anyone else around to worry about waking up these days, and the thought was such a randomly cruel one that Wanda had to physically clap her hands over her mouth to hold back a peal of likely-hysterical laughter. Of course, then she'd probably have to end up explaining just why this was all so significant, and while she still wasn't 100% certain of the answer herself, she knew it probably involved certain revelations about the turns her private life had taken of late that she was not in any shape to tackle.
There was always the Compound. There were always people in the Compound, and she suspected a shoulder to lean on wasn't what she needed, anyway, just the simple reassurance that came with not being completely isolated with her increasingly anxious, circling thoughts. Even a book to distract herself and a total stranger sitting on the opposite end of the room would do the trick, in that case.
It was a combination of factors that made up her mind in the end. Mostly she just acknowledged one, though: she was tired, and he was close. Besides, maybe there was something to be said for first instincts.
When she got to Bruce's place, out of breath and slightly disheveled (she was getting pretty sure that the t-shirt she'd hastily pulled on was actually inside-out), she finally hesitated. Honestly unable to decide whether this was a bad idea or not, she knocked only lightly, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear it, wouldn't answer, solving the dilemma for her. And then what? Maybe she'd just sit on the damn ground outside his house and wrack her brain about why this was hitting her so hard until the sun came up.
Yeah, that'll do it.