Penelope's breath came in and out harshly with each of her step. Her glasses were tilting a bit on her nose bridge, threatening to fall onto the concrete sidewalk and smashed into millions of pieces under her unknowing step, while the strap of her postman bag repeatedly made painful sawing movements on her shoulder. She couldn't see what was in front of her clearly anymore, but at least she was already out of the busy downtown area. What are the odds, really, to get an emergency call right at the peak of the rush hour?
When she finally arrived at the HQ a minute later, the girl was so out of breath already that she couldn't even report to Gary immediately, who was already standing there waiting with a shotgun. She bent down with both hands on her knees and began to even out her breath. She thought that she ought to at least say something to their leader about her delayed arrival, so she briefly tilted her head up and blurted, "Had to run. Subway not running."
Actually, it wasn't really that the subway wasn't running. It was actually delayed for quite a bit of time, thanks to some jackass who decided it was a good day to end his own life on a dingy rail 50 feet under the ground. During a rush hour. When she thinks of it now, it was actually quite a feat running all the way to the HQ from her apartment; she was basically sprinting across half of the city in only six or seven minutes.
When Penelope finally straightened herself up and fixed her glasses, she couldn't help but notice the doodling carved onto the pillars, which were mostly done by Gary. Her OCD-ness was so far the only thing that made her recognize the fresh profanities that sometimes overlapped the older ones. "Did you just etch into the pillars again?" she asked, though not so much laced with surprise anymore. She'd spent it all on his first etchings. "That's vandalism, you know."