She hadn't noticed. Alfred tried to shake the feeling off. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just being paranoid, after the weekend that he'd had. Maybe he was only noticing the difference in the air down here because he knew the ship, and it wasn't as profound as he thought it was.
"Just seems a little stuffier than usual, I guess," he said with a shrug. It was probably nothing. If she hadn't noticed, it couldn't be anything to do with the curse, anyway. Figuring out where the curse was and how it had attached to the various parts of the Voyager was literally her job, at the moment, so he had to presume that she had all of that under control. Besides, they hadn't passed by anything yet that would have had any reason to come in contact with the chest, unless whoever smuggled it on board had taken a very indirect route to the cargo hold.
Alfred turned and continued through the halls, hoping that getting away from this particular hallway would alleviate whatever it was that was making his lungs feel this way. As he moved towards midships, however, it only seemed to be getting worse, and soon he was feeling as though he might need to stop and catch his breath, even though they were just walking down a straight hallway. He glanced back at Zelda, who still didn't seem to have even noticed. How could she not have noticed? The air was unbearably thick here; even when he managed to catch a breath it seemed like it wasn't really going anywhere.
Alfred turned back towards the hallway ahead of them and reached up to muss his hair (one of many nervous habits), then saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him suddenly stop. Oh. That was why she hadn't noticed, because it very likely had nothing to do with the air down here at all and everything to do with the blue mark that had appeared on his palm. This was it. He was dying. This was what it felt like. How long had the mark been there? How much longer did he have? He didn't know how quickly it escalated, and already he was feeling like if the breathing situation got much worse he was doomed. It might only be minutes away now — maybe seconds, even.
"Zelda," he said, forgetting the flimsy courtesies he'd been trying to use for her sake as he turned to face her. He didn't have time for Miss Fisk now. He didn't know if he had time to explain, or to say anything at all, and he didn't want to waste what might very well be his last breath trying. Instead he met her eyes for a just a moment, leaned in, and kissed her.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER
"Just seems a little stuffier than usual, I guess," he said with a shrug. It was probably nothing. If she hadn't noticed, it couldn't be anything to do with the curse, anyway. Figuring out where the curse was and how it had attached to the various parts of the Voyager was literally her job, at the moment, so he had to presume that she had all of that under control. Besides, they hadn't passed by anything yet that would have had any reason to come in contact with the chest, unless whoever smuggled it on board had taken a very indirect route to the cargo hold.
Alfred turned and continued through the halls, hoping that getting away from this particular hallway would alleviate whatever it was that was making his lungs feel this way. As he moved towards midships, however, it only seemed to be getting worse, and soon he was feeling as though he might need to stop and catch his breath, even though they were just walking down a straight hallway. He glanced back at Zelda, who still didn't seem to have even noticed. How could she not have noticed? The air was unbearably thick here; even when he managed to catch a breath it seemed like it wasn't really going anywhere.
Alfred turned back towards the hallway ahead of them and reached up to muss his hair (one of many nervous habits), then saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him suddenly stop. Oh. That was why she hadn't noticed, because it very likely had nothing to do with the air down here at all and everything to do with the blue mark that had appeared on his palm. This was it. He was dying. This was what it felt like. How long had the mark been there? How much longer did he have? He didn't know how quickly it escalated, and already he was feeling like if the breathing situation got much worse he was doomed. It might only be minutes away now — maybe seconds, even.
"Zelda," he said, forgetting the flimsy courtesies he'd been trying to use for her sake as he turned to face her. He didn't have time for Miss Fisk now. He didn't know if he had time to explain, or to say anything at all, and he didn't want to waste what might very well be his last breath trying. Instead he met her eyes for a just a moment, leaned in, and kissed her.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER