Chapter Text
Leaving the Vee tower filming studio floor in tears was apparently not a unique experience here because no one stopped Charlie nor seemed to give her more than a vague glance when she fled down the corridors and through the door to the elevator.
It allowed her a brief spot of privacy since no one else was in the car. That was a small solace because the tears didn't stop. They only poured forth all the more once she was stationary. She put her face into her hands as the elevator dropped down, feeling the wetness that had already slipped down her cheeks and the droplets that welled and fell to follow those traced riverluts, now interrupted by her palms.
She sniffled heavily in-between each hitched breath, trying to breathe through the want to sob outrightly. Unable to stem the flow of her tears, she attempted to wipe away the evidence with her sleeves, but her eyes refused to cooperate and the tear stains renewed themselves as more teardrops slid down her face.
Her heart didn't want to release its hold over her emotions. For it ached at the trouble she had caused for Angel. The way she had come to try to help but only made it worse for him. That served to have her eyes welling once again. Stinging and weeping fresh tears. It had her sniffling again, her nose beginning to run at how very hard she was trying not to cry.
Breaths choked and vision blurred by the moisture that welled along the rims of her eyes and burdened her lashes. She was barely aware of the elevator coming to a stop and the doors parting open when it reached the ground floor. The cheerful ding was all that alerted her to draw her head up out of her hands and she didn't waste a second to flee out into the lobby.
Trying to be as unassuming as she could when it was chalk full of people, she wiped at her eyes quickly again and kept her head down as she hurried. But yet again, no one seemed to care nor notice her and she made her way out the ornate rotating doors. Bumping into one, then two other sinners, she garbled an apology without looking back and continued on.
Charlie didn't stop until she was down the street and Vee Tower was blocked from her sight by another tall building. Her crying hadn't lessened, although the snotty mess it was making out of her was nearly embarrassing enough for her to focus on that momentarily and helped calm her a bit when she stopped to pull out a few tissues to fix it. Blowing her nose and using a clean one to wipe her eyes seemed to help her breathe easier.
Although it didn't remove the regret and sadness she felt. In the effort to try not to think about it so she could walk back to the hotel only had her thinking about it more. Her mind ran over what she had said and done wrong, how she should have better approached it, or perhaps have left it alone? Maybe use other means to communicate with Angel’s boss? How stupid she had been to try to talk to Valentino when they were both obviously working.
Even though she wasn't at all partial to porn, it was still a massive industry in Hell. And Angel did seem to like the work, it was simply his boss and the schedule he was forced to keep, along with some of the ‘scenes’ he was made to do that Angel hated, but who was she to interrupt them when it was contractually bound work?
Sure, she was the princess of Hell, but when had throwing one’s weight around ever done anything productive in a way she could be proud of? Besides, she was just the princess. It was her father and mother who held abilities to break Deals or amend them. And then, only under very specific circumstances.
She truly hadn't been thinking when she left to go talk to Angel’s boss. Or well she had, but only about the hotel and her dream. She hadn’t been thinking of Angel at all...
Feeling a wave of nausea wash over her frame, coiling thickly within her stomach and tugging on something deep within. It had her stumbling to a stop. Swaying with the dizziness that followed the sweeping of nausea to the point her footing became all the more unsteady and she lurched wildly, seeking the brick of the alleyway to her left side to lean against.
She took a few slow breaths, deep and measured, figuring she was simply a slight overwrought from angering Angel. Angering him to the degree that he had vehemently kicked her out. And the inflictions she had seen upon Angel form what her visit had brought upon him from his boss. His soul-owner, Charlie now knew.
It made her feel sick and devastated that she had made things so much worse for Angel, one of her friends, when she had intended to try to make things better. Or at least easier in giving Angel more time at the hotel rather than working so much.
… She had been selfish. Was it really her intent to get time off for Angel or for her itinerary to help the hotel? Because in hindsight, she was seeing exactly how terrible she had planned this in her desperation to keep working at her dream for the hotel, thus backwardly forcing Angel into a terrible scenario.
Charlie swallowed heavily, feeling her knees grow weak and hands shaky at those thoughts. Even as she pressed both palms flat against the brick and leant against the wall. Avoiding the gum collection stuck on it and the faded poster advertising someone wearing very little, she tried to ground herself.
Several slow, deep breaths later, she didn't feel anymore steady than before she started. Even trying a few mental exercises to distract herself long enough to be able to think past the bad feelings and guilt didn't work. She couldn't concentrate in order to complete them. Her thoughts felt sluggish and fogged over, whilst her vision remained blurred despite the tears having lessened.
This felt worse than being upset to the point of panic or even so guilty it sickened her. Although the mounting panic over something being seriously wrong with her was quickly replacing the guilt in what was making her upset, which wasn't helping her focus and find a way to better help herself than walking back to the hotel via the streets of Hell when appearing vulnerable. She knew she could be naive at times, but not that severely.
Working to still take slow, measured breaths despite the way her throat felt tight with the urge to sob and the dizziness continued to make her feel sick to her stomach. The ground felt like it was shifting and dipping or pitching up oddly, which didn't help the odd heaviness she could feel pulling at her limbs. Weighted and uncoordinated they were.
It was becoming increasingly apparent that she needed some help.
Which was okay to ask for, she reminded herself. She wouldn't be able to apologise and make it up to Angel if she didn't get a bit of help herself. She wanted Vaggie and to be back at the hotel. That would make things easier, she would be able to breathe there without feeling stared at and sick. She could re-centre herself with Vaggie at her side and make things right again. Yes, yes that's what she needed.
She fumbled her phone out of her pocket, the display blurring before her eyes as she tried to open it several times. Succeeding on the sixth try, then working to get her trembling fingers to call Vaggie. It was increasingly difficult given how everything dipped and smeared out of focus. The shaking was spreading too and it made her all the more uncoordinated.
A swooping within her belly had the phone slipped from her grasp when she swayed sharply to the side and her shoulder crashed harshly against the brick wall. She gave a small, involuntary cry at the impact and the way the rough stone scraped through her suit jacket and into the thin fabric of her button-up shirt beneath.
It didn't feel as if it drew blood, but it had hurt. The first layer of skin having been scratched, enough to peel up curls of white skin without causing any bleeding. She blinked sluggishly at the torn clothing and the very minor injury under it, wondering why she could feel tears pooling within her eyes at such an insufficient injury. It wasn't as if she couldn't replace her jacket and shirt, she had plenty to wear back at the hotel.
Yet she found herself shakily breathing, trying to fight back a rush of tears that brimmed along her lashes and tipped over to slide trails down her pale cheeks. Sniffling, she rubbed her sleeve under her eyes with a trembling hand to attempt at clearing her already compromised vision.
She needed to find her phone. She needed to get back home. She needed Vaggie.