learnyourplace: (you've my attention)
[personal profile] learnyourplace
[It's an accidental broadcast; Rachel has the NV in hand, having intending only to listen to whatever might be new as she walked through the city. (In no particular hurry to go anywhere in particular, walking seemed the way to go. She may have been wrong.) The audio clicks on mid-sentence, triggered by a restless and angry grip on the device.]

--aside. Move or I will move you. [There's more than simple frustration in her voice; she's angry. The audio is muffled, but it's clear she's not alone. There's raised voices, demands for information, insults hurled. She could just leave, but mulishness is apparently a family trait.

It may be clear that she might not handle this well without a little intervention, despite what she's told others about not provoking those who would confront them.]
learnyourplace: (have a bead on you)
[personal profile] learnyourplace
[Rachel looks a little pale, but her expression is level and gaze clear. She's sick, but not terribly so. She's not disheveled, but her breath is occasionally labored, as if she's fighting back a deep cough.]

I am obviously not as sick as many others in the city. I'm offering my services to those who might need my help. [She pauses, caught as if she wishes to say more, but looks away from the NV and coughs a few times.] Excuse me. Obviously, there is no worry of infecting me.

[Helpful angel is helpful. Hopefully.]
learnyourplace: (angelic head tilt... almost)
[personal profile] learnyourplace
[Rachel manages to startle herself while poking around at the appliances in her small, starter apartment. With her NV in one hand as she does, it comes as no surprise that she turns it on as she backs away from an exploding toaster.

Obviously, she shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen. It's probably a good thing she doesn't need to eat. There's a moment of her just looking at the counter top -- then at the NV and her head tilts a bit to the side.

It probably shouldn't be on.]
Oh. [She fumbles with it, trying to turn off the feed and finally, fed up, tries to turn it off via angel mojo. She only succeeds in blowing up a lightbulb. She looks very put-upon, very frustrated, hiding a thread of fear underneath it. She is not ready to let other know she's here. That choice has been taken from her, because of her own carelessness.

... She still can't find the right button to push.]

Tags