The Causeway, Late Friday Morning
May. 10th, 2007 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
screwyoumarvelSteve wasn't sure what story had been fed to the nervous young guy driving him from the airport to the island, and frankly he didn't care. He gazed out the window at the water as they drove across the causeway, which was why it took him a moment after they parked to notice-- "What the..."
The school had still been standing in the surveillance photos. So that was different.
"Is there a problem, sir?" the kid asked.
"No. I just didn't have all of the information." Now he did, and he was going to kill Fury. How was he supposed to teach art in a school that had fallen down? He sighed, opened the door, and got out of the car. Carefully. His right knee was still in a brace for a week or two, while his left arm was in a sling 'until you're ready to remove it,' which meant it was going away as soon as he got to his new home. Those two wounds were going to be more of a pain in the ass than the gut shots that had killed him--those were mostly healed by now, thanks to all that time in a coma. "Better get on with it," he sighed.
"I'm supposed to carry your bags to your room, sir--I mean, sir that I of course have no idea who you are, nor do I care."
Steve grinned a little. Smart kid. "Well, come on, then, son. I'm not going to slow down for you."
"Of course not, sir. I wouldn't expect you to."
The school had still been standing in the surveillance photos. So that was different.
"Is there a problem, sir?" the kid asked.
"No. I just didn't have all of the information." Now he did, and he was going to kill Fury. How was he supposed to teach art in a school that had fallen down? He sighed, opened the door, and got out of the car. Carefully. His right knee was still in a brace for a week or two, while his left arm was in a sling 'until you're ready to remove it,' which meant it was going away as soon as he got to his new home. Those two wounds were going to be more of a pain in the ass than the gut shots that had killed him--those were mostly healed by now, thanks to all that time in a coma. "Better get on with it," he sighed.
"I'm supposed to carry your bags to your room, sir--I mean, sir that I of course have no idea who you are, nor do I care."
Steve grinned a little. Smart kid. "Well, come on, then, son. I'm not going to slow down for you."
"Of course not, sir. I wouldn't expect you to."
