#professoroutoftime

[heat-storm]

Text || Steve & Kebira

Kebira: You said to tell you when I was alone with Pietro.

Kebira: So here is a text.

[attemptx-23]

Texts || Steve and Laura

Laura: I am sorry.

Laura: I did not mean to fail.

Laura: I will improve immediately.

[heat-storm]

professoroutoftime replied to your post “Are your clothes flammable?”

you could possibly ask the science department for help with making a fire resistant under armor to put under your clothes.

As much as I appreciate the suggestion, I'm not wearing under armor. I'd rather end up nude.

[heat-storm]

Bunker || Steve & Kebira

Kebira's composure had lasted for hours. Pietro's threats(or promises as he'd likely say) meant very little to her initially, she'd even laughed when he first sent the messages. But then the sun began to fade away behind the trees and building and the texts she'd received quickly began clawing at the back of her mind. It really took no time at all for panic to set in.

She had to do something. Go somewhere. Hide.

The problem with being Kebira though was that there really weren't many places for her to go. With any sense of trust lost years ago and barely any friends(and even those she called friends she didn't highly regard, not enough to help and protect her) she paced around her room in a panic, hands tightly clasped behind her back and face tucked in between her arms. "Come on, come on..." She had urged herself as she paced, trying to come up with something. Somewhere. Someone. And just as she felt her throat tighten and eyes begin to burn with emerging tears of frustration, she stopped. It had been a good 20, maybe 30 minutes, since her panic set in and her heart had begun beating violently against her chest, threatening to break free of the ribs that encased it.

It had been 20 to 30 minutes and she'd only just realized her option and the tears of frustration that now lined her bottom lids quickly became tears of joy. Her eyes, now bloodshot(which provided a shocking, unsettling contrast against sea foam irises) locked on a dead rose, pinned upside down on her wall where it had been left to dry weeks ago. It was the last of its kind from a bouquet she'd received and the last reminder of the first and only real act of kindness she'd received at the school the far. And it was from Captain America nonetheless. Her scapegoat.

Kebira took no time at all in leaving. She gutted her backpack which had laid ready beside her door for summer session. Her charger, phone, clothes, toothbrush, whatever she honestly needed, she took and stuffed. Once again her hands were shaking, just as they had been when she'd last seen Pietro. She was terrified. Terrified of him. The words he said. Of herself. If he got to her, she didn't know what would happen. Running was her only option right now. And so she did. She ran from her room and ran from Stoner Hall. She ran to her car and from there, sped from the school.

She ran. Like a coward, she ran.

Similarly to Barney, Steve lived in an apartment and if Kebira was thinking clearly, she may have taken a moment to realize that was likely the norm of New York. But her mind was spinning and she realized how shitty it was that nobody ever informs you of how your mind works against you in moments of terror. As she drove, her eyes wavered, sure she saw Pietro on ever curb, bench, and stop sign. Sure that he was following after her speeding vehicle. She just needed to get inside. Inside with Steve. So she parked quickly and scurried from the jeep, hood pulled up and head tucked down. Anything to keep hiding.. just in case. 

It took an agonizing long time to find Steve's apartment door. It was hard for eyes to focus when they were searching for something - or better yet, someone - who could move at supersonic speeds. Eventually she found it though and quickly wiped her eyes and face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt in means of hiding her visibly signs of distress. Steve only knew her by her comments online and apparently admired that side of her. Kebira would be lying is she said she didn't feel grossly ashamed of appearing to him finally and looking the way she did. Disheveled, paranoid, and more than anything, scared. But she had no choice. So after she fixed her face to the best of her abilities, she knocked. "It's important." She called into the door as she began knocking again, more frantically this time.

[heat-storm]

Text || Steve & Kebira

Kebira: Guess who.

Kebira: Purple is a better color by the way. You can do a take 2 later if you find yourself swooning. Again.