chasingangela: (adult mad)
For what she almost dares to hope is the last time, Angela runs up the stairs to the little apartment over Luke's, followed by Marty, who is sporting a serious bruise and carrying a small black leather satchel.

"Alanna tried a spell today and it didn't work," she warns him, jiggling the key in the lock. "What do you have in mind?"
chasingangela: (adult holidays)
Home shopping. Christmas in Disneyland, It's A Wonderful Life. A Christmas Story.

Angela is very, very grateful the apartment has a TV, because Christmas on your own sucks and the familiar blue glow is a distraction.

She hopes the younger version of herself -- the one who belongs here -- is warm and safe, wherever she is.

In late afternoon, as a dense fog drops over Fandom, she finds her way to the convenience store and gets a quart of eggnog and a fifth of rum.

Before long, she abandons the pretense of the eggnog, and simply drinks the rum straight, and gets very drunk alone for the first time in her life.
chasingangela: (adult complicated)
Angela paced back and forth as she lead Marty up the stairs to the apartment she was borrowing for what she hoped was a short stay.

"Say I'm sick. Say I have laryngitis. Say I'm vomiting every 30 seconds. Whatever. Oh, but say that I'm under excellent medical care," she instructs. "And -- tell her Merry Christmas. If this call even goes through."

She might possibly be praying.

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Angela Chase

May 2015

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