Touching down in San Francisco, Famine exited the plane as fast as she could, collected her bag, and raced towards the exit. There were a line of Ubers waiting to pick up fares, and she hopped into one, giving the address for the library. The drive seemed to take forever, even though in reality, they were making very good time.
Finally, they pulled up, and the driver glanced back at her, confused. "You sure this is where you wanna get out? It's closed."
"I'm sure," Famine answered, paying the man and adding a nice tip. It wasn't his fault she was so high-strung.
She watched the car drive off, before turning to face the dark, empty library. She spotted Patrick almost immediately, there really was no way to keep all that ginger hair hidden or contained. "Christ, Irish, one of these days you're gonna give me a heart attack and it'll stick," she joked. "Are you OK? Wrath sent some clothes with me, since we thought you probably didn't have much."