[ Action | Closed | Early morning ] [ It was just past the crack of dawn when Ashton left the shelter, making a beeline for the building Conrad said he had set aside for Diva. That sounded a bit much, because surely no one needed that much space... right?
He didn't question it, and his steps carried him straight to the front door with an urgency he couldn't place. This went beyond just thanking her for helping him-- no, for saving his life. Ashton genuinely wanted to see Diva. As a bonus, he thought, he'd like to know if she was happy to see him doing well. If that pleased her, it would be enough for him... ] Diva, are you home? [ He called out as he knocked. ] It's me, Ashton.
[ Action | Open | Midday and onward ] [ Ashton needs to pack. His apartment in Sector 2 has a lot of tiny things strewn all about, and he doesn't have many clothes. He won't need the furniture -- his "workshop" will come later. He will be making periodic trips to the store for boxes, tape, and... a microwave burger dinner or two ( because everything in his fridge expired). Strangely? The food does little to sate his hunger, but it is at least does its best to fill him up.
He pauses by the mailbox in front of his apartment complex. Ashton stares at it, unable to reconcile the image of the bent-and-broken mailbox with the now fully repaired one. There is no stain on the grass or the sidewalk -- where his blood had been spilled. And yet he still knows. He knows exactly (what he's been told) happened on that spot, and he can feel the memories somewhere in his mind. Then he glances up at the third floor balcony, a chill running down his spine at the thought that his hands slipping from that railing was all it took to--
No. Best to forget that. He has two years of new memories to sort through; surely one traumatizing evening in Marina can wait until later... ]