Doors

[locked to jack c.]

Hey.

[locked to max m.]

So, because I like my job and kind of don't want to get my ass fired, I'll do the liaison thing.

[locked to adam w.]

Hey, Adam. How are things?

[After talking to Wren.]

[locked to sebastian v-p.]

[...] I know this is kind of random, but Wren told me but I thought you might want to talk.

( cut for creepy imagery )

[Text to Nell, sometime during the weekend.]

How's your father doing?

[Locked to Wren H]

When you've a moment, could I speak with you?

[She wakes up the morning after with her head on something not a pillow, light filtering in at the wrong angle. Tension is her first response, holding still with eyes closed until memory catches up to her sleep-fogged brain. She didn't have nearly enough to drink the night before to steal her awareness of what had happened; she'd been nearly sober by the time she and Gabe fell into bed together.

Opening eyes reveals that her unusual pillow is his shoulder, and her sigh moves over the skin of his chest before she freezes again. Close to her face, visible in the morning light and now that she's focusing, are scars on his skin. Not the simple scars of general living, but long cuts of a knife, gashes healed over, bullet wounds. Seeing the marks makes her realize that her scars are equally on display, and there are too many questions there. It makes her heart and stomach fight for space behind her ribs, and ends with the imperative need to flee.

She doesn't expect to get out of the house without him waking, but she does. Though where her underpants are is anyone's guess. In her racing-heart reactions, she leaves them behind along with a scrawled note about needing to leave (but after a moment, she adds to call her). She can't get home to the townhouse fast enough, finding it empty when she gets there.]

[Max M]
[Handwriting still a little shaky:]

Sneaking out in the morning before someone wakes up: valid reaction or social faux pas?

[Gabe R.]
[Much later, afternoon/evening, on Max's command recommendation, she calls. It goes to voicemail.]

[Pause.] It's Laura. I'm just... checking in. Okay. Hope you're having a good day. ...Bye.

[Left for Luke H]
[The card, which is unbelievably simple, is left on the driver's side seat of his car, while he's getting dressed to go pick Gus up. Inside the card, there's an old, touch-worn photo of Gus in park at about the age of two. The little boy is playing with a ball in the picture, and he's looking right toward the camera. The note on the inside of the card is obviously hastily written, since she didn't have much time, with them just getting home.]

Bonne fête des pères. Vous êtes merveilleux.

[Public]

[After a glass or two of whiskey.] Dont seem right, the whole world reminding folks of things they dont feel like remembering.

[Delivered by his assistant and left on his desk at Wayne Enterprises is a completely non-descript envelope of a vague off white color. This holiday comes with no decorations, no defacing of the Cave or Tumblers. Inside the envelope is a simple card, with no Hallmark moments, only the words: Happy Fathers Day written in elegant gold script.

The inside is signed very simply: Helena.]