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[brobeforehos]

nick.ryves@compass.net (4) (no subject) D12 63:19PM whatshername.mcirishton@compass.net (6) Re: Hairdye D11 8:01PM lastly.firstenton@compass.net (12) [text] D10 9:35AM

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<span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">TO:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">BCC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net, firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">FROM:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">DATE/TIME:</span> Day Twelve, Night. 63:19PM <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">SUBJECT:</span> (no subject) <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> No message.

<span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CONTACT:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> <span style="font-family:courier; color:#000000;">text</span>

Comments

[brobeforehos]

Alright. I could stretch my legs a bit, and it's good to know these things, right?

[indecadence]

Of course. I'll meet you in front of the dormitories.

[brobeforehos]

In about ten minutes?

[indecadence]

All right. Ten minutes.

[brobeforehos]

[And behold! Not ten minutes later, she's in front of the dormitories, looking relatively cleaned up. Button-up shirt taken during a raid a week ago thrown on top of her jeans, and her hair pulled up and held by a piece of fabric which once belonged to a flapper dress.

So she's got some vanity left. She's also got some sanity left, therefore the knife is still with her, just in case. Not that Cas has given her any indications that he's - well, anything else other than weary, weird, and possibly a little bit lost and lonely.

Then again, with her track records. It does occur to her to tell Nick about it, but she doesn't know what 'it' is. Going out is an ambiguous term, and she might not exactly get approval in return.

Besides, they both...have their own lives, sort of. Nick's got the train tracks thing, Mae's got the books thing. It's not like they're together, they're just - she does what she wants.]

[indecadence]

[ He's waiting for her the same as he always waits for anyone he meets, dressed for colder conditions than is current and a rifle slung over his back. It's reckless and idiotic to wander about this place without any sort of weapon, and it's out of habit, out of learning from Dean and the others in camp, to always have a back-up plan. He has several, in fact, but those are need-to-know only. Still, he looks fairly better than the first time she'd seen him, and there's a note of happiness in the look he gives her when she approaches.

A tilt of his head, giving himself a moment to get a better look at her in the daylight, and he offers her a smile. ]

I'm glad you came. [ And then he turns just enough to indicate that they're going to start walking. No use lingering around. ] This way.

[brobeforehos]

[Look at that rifle on his back, it's like they're in some zombie horror au here, off on an adventure but keeping it safe. How many times has she ventured into the more dangerous parts of the city with nothing but Nick's knife? What happens if she needs more - she can't think of whether or not she'd be able to use a gun, though occasionally she wakes up after a nightmare in which she shoots her mother's killer with one. In cold blood. But that's not her.

The survivor with a smile hiding at the corner of her mouth, that's her. The dumb optimist with a plan up her sleeve, that's her. Smiling at this virtual stranger because he doesn't look as lost right now which is a good thing, that's her.]

So where are we going?