𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.
Somewhere far, far away from home. Not what it was. Not a normal afternoon with nothing to do.
And still we fight.
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THERE ARE TWO options Ellie-Marie faces now.
She mulled them over the entire ride here. Rory was reluctant the second Ellie told her where she needed to go, grumbling something about Gale-Fucking-Weathers under her breath, but the firm promise of a spa day combined with the cross-fingered agreement to “make a fucking move on Tara, like you should have done five years ago” helped the scales weigh in Ellie's factor.
After that compromise was met, it became time to worry once more.
Option number one: Mom actually texted and was only being short out of urgency. It being out of actual danger or pure suspicion is neither here nor there, just it being her on the other end is what's important.
Ellie would prefer option number one.
Option number two: Mom didn't text. Whoever used her phone either has her or hurt her (any other option will make her sick), which means she still needs help. Even if it kills Ellie in the process.
Ellie would not prefer option number two.
From the way her day has been going, she's thinking it's going to be option number two.
With her bag still slung over her shoulder and her gun tucked against her hip in a way that's comfortingly familiar, Ellie-Marie makes her way through the lobby, smiling at the bellhop whose name she knows rhymes with bead. His affinity for never wearing a name tag created a running joke between Ellie and Buffy. There's something hopeful in the way it still makes her smile now.
