![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oh good you're alive! 2.0
Dec. 1st, 2012 09:12 amAfter waking up at the Thanksgiving party, Sharon had tried like hell to keep it together, be useful, avoid feeling the panic that was probably the natural reaction to seeing the man you...someone you care about get stabbed in the chest and vanish in a cloud of knockout gas. After making sure everyone else in the room was unharmed or being looked after, she'd gone to her room for the guns. Not because she thought there'd be anything to shoot, for better or worse, but because they made her feel more in control. Then she'd started searching.
---
The guns sit untouched in the holster, her hands being full with the map on her communicator and her LED flashlight, held at a cop angle. She hates the dimmer lit places on the station with a passion, ever since the incident with the rats. Which of course makes her think of Steve, pulling her out of the wall even after she'd nearly taken his head off with a baseball bat. Well, he has to be around here somewhere, she reasons, without anything to back it up, really. Except that the station doesn't mind letting people die right in front of them, so whisking injured people away is probably a good sign.
Her search is methodical, but again, a little more based on feeling than logic; if she had been looking for anyone else, she might have started in the morgue rather than choose a path around the ship that avoided it until all other areas had been ruled out. She's spending a lot more time in unfamiliar places, since she's never seen evidence of a surgery or anything like that in her regular wanderings. But as much as she'd love to deny it, it's just something to distract herself with, and the chances of her finding Steve before the station decides to produce him are next to zero.
---
The guns sit untouched in the holster, her hands being full with the map on her communicator and her LED flashlight, held at a cop angle. She hates the dimmer lit places on the station with a passion, ever since the incident with the rats. Which of course makes her think of Steve, pulling her out of the wall even after she'd nearly taken his head off with a baseball bat. Well, he has to be around here somewhere, she reasons, without anything to back it up, really. Except that the station doesn't mind letting people die right in front of them, so whisking injured people away is probably a good sign.
Her search is methodical, but again, a little more based on feeling than logic; if she had been looking for anyone else, she might have started in the morgue rather than choose a path around the ship that avoided it until all other areas had been ruled out. She's spending a lot more time in unfamiliar places, since she's never seen evidence of a surgery or anything like that in her regular wanderings. But as much as she'd love to deny it, it's just something to distract herself with, and the chances of her finding Steve before the station decides to produce him are next to zero.
