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___________ c h a p t e r f o u r t y - t h r e e
"Robin," Nancy whispers, waking the blonde up.
She'd spent the entire night going over a plan to find out more about Vecna, even going as far as to keep her newspaper minions on standby in case she needed their skills today.
She groggily responds, obviously not all the way there yet. "Hm?"
"I have an idea, wake up," she taps her repeatedly, forcing her to get up.
"It's..." she glances at her watch, groaning at the time. "7 in the morning, you psycho."
"We have lives to save," Nancy brushes her off, starting to walk upstairs.
"What about Sam?" she points to the girl softly snoring on Steve's chest.
"What about her?"
"Whatever weird rivalry thing you've got going on, set it aside. We're not doing this without her, whatever your plan is."
"We're gonna talk to Victor Creel. But first, we have to pretend to be Psychology students at a university. As in, scholarly individuals."
"Not seeing how excluding Sam fits in here."
"She'd-"
"I can hear you, Nancy," Sam opens her eyes, sitting up. "I'm sleeping, not dead."
"Just what? Please inform me as to why you think I can't be scholarly," she crosses her arms.
"It's not that. Let's go upstairs."
"Fine," she narrows her eyes, following the brunette and Robin to her room.
____
"Okay, we're upstairs. So explain," Sam leans against the door.
"It's nothing personal, Samantha," she shrugs as she begins to write a rough draft of the girls' resumes.
"Sounds pretty personal," Robin grimaces.
"We need to appear like well-mannered, scholarly, university students. Respectable."
"She's on the honor roll," Robin furrows her eyebrows.
"It's not about whether you're intelligent or not. You just... You look like a cheerleader. And you're not interested in anything scholarly. I mean, you're going to art school- Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's not exactly Harvard."
"You're not even going to Harvard," Sam narrows her eyes, a chuckle leaving her mouth. "Sorry, I forgot you think I'm a bimbo."
