signed_sabrina | (no subject)

Once a month, Sabrina sleeps at Leviathan, for her turn on the weekly overnight shift. It usually falls on a weekend, but she's leveraged her assigned shift last Friday night for tonight, a Tuesday. She expects no trouble; winter break has already started, and the solstice has passed. Nothing in the store seems particularly likely to escape; nothing has tasted human flesh so far as she knows.

When she bundles herself onto the air mattress in the back, after setting out all of those little projects that require someone to be here overnight-- some of them, she suspects, needing a magical presence nearby to develop-- Sabrina really, truly thinks that the worst of her problems is that she has to be awake at 5:30 for a morning shipment of particularly fragile teeth.

She falls asleep quickly, with Salem a warm and comforting weight against the small of her back.

Her phone alarm goes off at 5:30 as planned, but even as Sabrina rubs her eyes and reaches for it, something feels off. Why is it so far away? Is Salem feeling particularly large and lumpy beside her?

The next few observations come quick-quick-quick. Her phone is too big, and it doesn't recognize her face. The hoodie she's stolen from Charlie and the pajama bottoms she's stolen from Rosie are also too big, and she ends up in a tangled mess on the floor, panting and unsure.

Moments later, when she's keyed in her passcode and is using the camera to look at herself, it comes together. "Fuck," she says, and winces at the small, piping voice that comes out. "What am I, five?"

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"None of this is any more reassuring," she murmurs, but she's smiling just a little as she says it. She nods in response to whatever Salem tells her, understanding the tone of it even if the meaning isn't clear, and keeps a respectful distance from the box once both girl and cat are gone.

She remembers the frogs, along with all the other stories Sabrina's had to tell after a particularly difficult day at the shop, and she's not taking any chances.

The pleased, determined expression Sabrina's wearing when she gets back looks odd on that young of a face--but still right, somehow. "Sure," she says, going to the counter and gingerly opening a drawer, holding her breath as she sifts through the contents. The tape gun was knocked towards the back, and it's a minute or two before she's able to extract it. As quickly as she can, she tapes the box flaps back down, adding an extra layer once it's sealed just to be doubly certain.

Frogs and toads of all sorts really do seem to be a problem at Leviathan, though it's something management won't admit to, not to Sabrina.

Not yet.

Right now, Sabrina's focused on how strange it is that while she's certainly got the situation more under control, with Rosie's help-- she's starting to get a peculiar, anxious sensation. She knows she'd been a happy child, if prone to stubbornness and fits of pique, but sometimes the world around her had been just too strange to take.

Her stomach feels like it's flipping over and over and spinning, and she really hopes that the sudden sniffling sound is covered up by Rosie with the tape gun. "It looks good," she says, and unfortunately, her determination not to sound wavering just sounds little and unsure.

"Hopefully it holds," Rosie says, catching the waver in Sabrina's voice just a moment too late. She's seen her sad, and scared, and unsteady before--never mind the appearance she tries to put forth for everybody else--but somehow in this body it's even closer to the surface. Leaving the tape on the counter, Rosie goes to her, bending just far enough to put her arms around her.

"Oh, Sabrina. It's...you'll be alright."

"I know," says Sabrina, but her voice is still wobbly, and she absolutely burrows into Rosie's arms. "I'm sorry, this is probably really weird, and it screws up the holiday, and I'm still me, but I think maybe I feel younger on the inside too."

She sniffles.

"I want to go home, can you, can you help?"

And stay, she thinks, but she's not sure how hard to push there.

Sabrina presses closer, and Rosie holds her tight as she kneels there on the floor, running a hand down her back to soothe her. "It's weird," she says, because she won't pretend it isn't. "But you haven't ruined anything, and it's alright to feel younger than you know you really are." She can't and won't kiss her properly, not like this, but she lays something soft and chaste against Sabrina's cheek and judges it an appropriate substitute.

"Of course I'll help get you home," she says, pulling back to look at her. "We'll get a taxi, and I'll let Charlie know on the way so he doesn't come here and worry."