Lydia had woken that morning in a cold sweat, barely managing to hold back the scream in the back of her throat as she did so. She thought she woke quietly; Bucky and Dick hadn't seemed to notice, at least, and that was what was important. It was awkward enough being the only girl in her suite, she didn't need them worrying about her on top of it. All day, she'd felt distracted, the mess of images and sensations still in her mind and on her skin. All day, she'd been self-consciously touching her throat as if to hide fingerprints and garrote marks from the world, in spite of the fact that she'd looked in the mirror that morning and there hadn't been any there.
Always her intellect coming to the forefront; Lydia was a genius and she knew that, but there was a difference between using her intelligence to save her friends the way the glitch would have suggested — not that she had been successful; she remembered clutching at her chest that morning, too, like her heart had stopped for just a moment when the loss of life had squeezed against it to make her aware — and using it to save a whole city. Science. It seemed to be a common theme to her. In the glitch, she remembered making self-igniting molotov cocktails like it was second nature to her. In her dream, there were concept she didn't fully understand, but at least grapsed; white star matter. Plasma. In this compound, she had been assigned to forensics and there had to be a reason for that.
Lydia walks through the halls on her way to the TopWare party just for a reason to get out of the room, but her heart isn't in it. She's still trying to sort out dreams from memories from glitch residual and she's so lost in it, eyes on the floor and body moving on autopilot, that she doesn't see the man coming until his feet reach her peripheral and it's too late then because the momentum of both of their forward movements is too much for her to stop short enough. Lydia bumps right into him.
"Oh, God...I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly, looking sheepishly up at him; he's tall. Taller than her, anyway. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I'm really sorry."
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Always her intellect coming to the forefront; Lydia was a genius and she knew that, but there was a difference between using her intelligence to save her friends the way the glitch would have suggested — not that she had been successful; she remembered clutching at her chest that morning, too, like her heart had stopped for just a moment when the loss of life had squeezed against it to make her aware — and using it to save a whole city. Science. It seemed to be a common theme to her. In the glitch, she remembered making self-igniting molotov cocktails like it was second nature to her. In her dream, there were concept she didn't fully understand, but at least grapsed; white star matter. Plasma. In this compound, she had been assigned to forensics and there had to be a reason for that.
Lydia walks through the halls on her way to the TopWare party just for a reason to get out of the room, but her heart isn't in it. She's still trying to sort out dreams from memories from glitch residual and she's so lost in it, eyes on the floor and body moving on autopilot, that she doesn't see the man coming until his feet reach her peripheral and it's too late then because the momentum of both of their forward movements is too much for her to stop short enough. Lydia bumps right into him.
"Oh, God...I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly, looking sheepishly up at him; he's tall. Taller than her, anyway. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I'm really sorry."