Ivory Hill had spent the majority of her adult life running. Throughout her twenties and the first part of her thirties it was from bombs and bullets. Now, at thirty six years old Ivory was running from something that she could never truly escape fr...
Ivory stood in the laboratory of Site Twenty Six, moving Grace's stack of notes off of her desk.
"What're you doing with that?" Grace asked, taking the armful of paper off Ivory.
"Your crap was all over my desk and I need to do some research."
"It isn't crap it's the outline for my next book." Grace grumbled. "Speaking of which, I brought something back from Hell's Gate for you. I'll be back in a minute." She deposited her work on the other desk and left the room.
Ivory flopped down into her chair, opening her notebook and fishing a pen out of the pocket of her combat trousers. She yawned and flipped through the book that she had left on the desk, starting to make notes. As usual Tigger leapt onto the desk and settled himself directly on top of what Ivory was trying to read. "Scoot Tiggy."
Grace reentered the lab and rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder you can get any work done with that cat about." She smiled slightly. "Here. I thought you might want to read this." Grace said clumsily, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain. She put a copy of The Catcher In The Rye down on the desk.
"Thank you." The dark haired woman looked down at the book as though she wasn't sure what to make of it.
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Ivory struggled to focus on one thing at once at the best of times but she was determined to at least make a start on the book that Grace had given her. She picked it up off of her desk and left the lab, pausing to take her exopack from its hook. The woman left through the airlock, climbing down the steps.
The sun was still out even though it was early evening and it was shining insistently on the long green grass which appeared to be rippling in the gentle breeze. Ivory only walked for about ten minutes before she sat down in the grass next to the edge of the forest, opening The Catcher In The Rye. The sun shone through the leaves, gently dappling the pages of the book. Ivory undid her plaits and let her hair swing forward like a curtain, shading the pages. She lay down flat on her stomach, stretching out in a long line, listening to the distant cries of animals that were erupting from the forest.
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Grace was in the kitchen wolfing down a rehydrated burrito when Ivory finally returned, the book still in her hand.
"Coffee?" Grace asked, pushing the last piece of her burrito into her mouth.
Ivory put the book down on the edge of the table and put her arms around Grace's waist, giving her an awkward hug from behind. "Thank you." She pulled away, stopping the hug as quickly as it had started. "Coffee sounds good."
Grace got up, her brow slanted in confusion. "Two sugars?"
"Please." Ivory sat down at the table, rubbing her eyes.
"Are you tired already?" The redhead asked in surprise, fiddling with the coffee maker.
"Mmm. I was running earlier."
Grace set a mug down on the table.
"Thanks," Ivory picked the coffee up immediately, ignoring how hot the cup was.
Grace sat back down cradling her own mug, a pensive expression on her face. "You should go to bed."
"I'm fine here." The dark haired woman drained her coffee and shut her eyes, leaning against Grace, her head already drooping.
