Wild axe murderer would be unpleasant, but she could deal with it.
Norman Bates was, if anything, less what she wanted to see open that door. Much less.
Cooper opens the door on a lanky teenage girl with a tense posture, straggly hair and shadows under her eyes that are the same sickly shade of purplish-yellowgray as a gathering thunderstorm. With her jeans and ratty hoodie, she looks terribly out of place standing on the front porch of a house like this.
She doesn't return the greeting right off the bat-- instead she stares balefully up at him for a moment. Because while she knows good and well that it's all more complicated than this, for the time being Cooper is the face of this whole ordeal. And she wants her glare to make what she thinks of it all perfectly clear.
After a few seconds, she says, "Yeah, hey."
The driver of the car sets the last box (there weren't many-- just three, plus one suitcase) down on the step and straightens up, nodding. "Agent Cooper. Miss Mason, do you have anything else in the car?"
no subject
Norman Bates was, if anything, less what she wanted to see open that door. Much less.
Cooper opens the door on a lanky teenage girl with a tense posture, straggly hair and shadows under her eyes that are the same sickly shade of purplish-yellowgray as a gathering thunderstorm. With her jeans and ratty hoodie, she looks terribly out of place standing on the front porch of a house like this.
She doesn't return the greeting right off the bat-- instead she stares balefully up at him for a moment. Because while she knows good and well that it's all more complicated than this, for the time being Cooper is the face of this whole ordeal. And she wants her glare to make what she thinks of it all perfectly clear.
After a few seconds, she says, "Yeah, hey."
The driver of the car sets the last box (there weren't many-- just three, plus one suitcase) down on the step and straightens up, nodding. "Agent Cooper. Miss Mason, do you have anything else in the car?"
"No, that's it."