[She hadn't been doing much in particular, perched on the roof and bundled up to ward against the cold, having helped herself to a spot that Billy had shown her early on during her stay. It was an ideal place to come and think, to come and try to shut out the muddled thoughts of those who lived in the mansion, to find a bit of peace for herself-- but even as inwardly-focused as she had become, there was no ignoring the that seemed to come and go within an instant, catching a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye before it's gone again.
Her heart leaps into her throat. No, it couldn't be, and yet--
She swallows hard as she pushes herself to her feet, scanning the horizon for any sign of whoever it was that had streaked past. A fast and almost frenzied thought pattern draws her attention towards the beach, a brief tug that vanishes just as quickly as the blur itself had, and yet she cannot bring herself to ignore it. She forgoes the stairs, levitating herself to the ground rather than returning inside to make her way down by more conventional means, pulling her coat closed around herself more tightly as she begins to walk towards the coastline, her strides long, purposeful.
She turns on her heel just as he stops behind her, sensing him a split-second before he speaks, and while he's too blurry to make out clearly--
It's not Pietro. Nor is it Tommy-- it's no one who belongs to her, and her heart sinks.]
If you do not want to be followed, then you should do a better job of sneaking.
The Flash!
Her heart leaps into her throat. No, it couldn't be, and yet--
She swallows hard as she pushes herself to her feet, scanning the horizon for any sign of whoever it was that had streaked past. A fast and almost frenzied thought pattern draws her attention towards the beach, a brief tug that vanishes just as quickly as the blur itself had, and yet she cannot bring herself to ignore it. She forgoes the stairs, levitating herself to the ground rather than returning inside to make her way down by more conventional means, pulling her coat closed around herself more tightly as she begins to walk towards the coastline, her strides long, purposeful.
She turns on her heel just as he stops behind her, sensing him a split-second before he speaks, and while he's too blurry to make out clearly--
It's not Pietro. Nor is it Tommy-- it's no one who belongs to her, and her heart sinks.]
If you do not want to be followed, then you should do a better job of sneaking.