"Very well. Holler out if your face is getting eaten by a mirror phantom." Doc's only half-joking. But actually do scream so he'll know to come running.
He'll take the room adjacent to Coulson so they're not splitting up too far away from each other. Even with barely any light filtering into the room, it's nigh impossible to ignore the mirror and the wispy spectre watching him move about the room but he's doing his best to keep his head turned away from it.
Eventually Doc makes his way into the bathroom and he's making do with unscrewing a towel rail after yanking and rattling on it, keeping his head down pointedly not looking at the mirror as he pries the rail off its holders. It's a lightweight hollow metal cylinder but it's better than nothing. Resisting the urge to swing it at the mirror, Doc returns to the corridor and ambles down the corridor slowly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He is renowned for being an ambidextrous gunfighter and no one's ever outdrawn him but it doesn't feel like it means shit right now.
"Mister Coulson?" he whisper-shouts, pausing in his step when the scratching resumes in the ceiling. An open door slams shut and he jumps, head whipping around at the noise.
"Coulson? This is not the time for modesty." Is he getting changed in there into his serial killer poncho or something? Jesus Christ.
no subject
He'll take the room adjacent to Coulson so they're not splitting up too far away from each other. Even with barely any light filtering into the room, it's nigh impossible to ignore the mirror and the wispy spectre watching him move about the room but he's doing his best to keep his head turned away from it.
Eventually Doc makes his way into the bathroom and he's making do with unscrewing a towel rail after yanking and rattling on it, keeping his head down pointedly not looking at the mirror as he pries the rail off its holders. It's a lightweight hollow metal cylinder but it's better than nothing. Resisting the urge to swing it at the mirror, Doc returns to the corridor and ambles down the corridor slowly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He is renowned for being an ambidextrous gunfighter and no one's ever outdrawn him but it doesn't feel like it means shit right now.
"Mister Coulson?" he whisper-shouts, pausing in his step when the scratching resumes in the ceiling. An open door slams shut and he jumps, head whipping around at the noise.
"Coulson? This is not the time for modesty." Is he getting changed in there into his serial killer poncho or something? Jesus Christ.